Chapter 1
Right after I'm done with burning all the things that cradles that hideous smell, I feel liberated, like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I didn't kill him; he had died on his own or crushed by the crowd I never really knew, but this, by doing this I was killing what lingered of him in my life.
After a few days I venture outside, not so sure of my ability to face Peeta again just yet, but I think to myself that stalling the moment won't do any good either, I was never good making friends before being the mockingjay, and now, I certainly had no clue of how to start a conversation with him, it had taken a game meant to end our lives for us to talk in the first place and everyone knew words were his things, he needed no bow or arrows to kill, a single phrase had been enough, back on thirteen it was all that took to make me see what I had become or may be what I had been all along, and I had hated myself and him for pointing it out. I find myself with the patch of primroses, they are being carefully watched by Buttercup, he knows Peeta planted those for her, and he, just like me has come to pay tribute to her.
Talking to my mother had been exhausting, we were both broken, trying to mend. I had let all the tears I thought I had in me flow along with all the feelings trapped inside. I thought of how I wanted to punish the Capitol for her dead; I wanted one last chance for the Hunger Games, so at least for once Capitol and it's inhabitants could feel the fear, the dread of seeing their children and loved ones die in cruel ways. could they enjoy it still? When the children, ripping each other's heads, were their own? I had voted yes, I wanted them to suffer what I had gone through, but for that to be, Coin would have to remain, and the only thing I could think when I shoot that arrow, was my sweet little Prim out in flames. The girl on fire had burned everything on her way, friend and foe. And Prim, just like Rue, had paid the highest price for being near me, the end of her barely lived life.
Back in the house, Greasy Sae has left, but there is some food on the table and I feel my stomach rumble, the knot I felt a while ago is replaced by the grumbling growing louder. Not registering what I eat, but taking spoonful servings each time, I finish my meal and doze off on the couch, securing an old blanket around my shoulders that smells like cinnamon and dill.
When I wake up in the morning, the fresh loaf of bread sits on the table, Greasy Sae is making breakfast while Peeta sets down the dishes; this becomes a routine, he makes bread every day and Sae makes him stay for breakfast. I fall back on the routine as well, one that is old and familiar; I get up early, pack some food and take off for the woods, after my first forays fail, I find myself regaining my strength, until it all clicks back together my old boots, my father's hunting jacket, the bow and the sheath of arrows securely over my shoulder. The morning air feels incredible when I take deep breaths, being out here makes the numb pain I've been feeling seem a little less rooted in me. I walk past the remains of District 12 and see him there helping, keeping himself busy, following Dr. Aurelius orders too. I stop for a moment, wondering if he still has some flashes from the trackerjacker venom, I was always unable to tell when he was having a nightmare, but I had seen and known his attacks first hand, one had been aimed to end my life. I force myself to focus on moving to the meadow, there is no point in dueling here over what was it, after all, it haunts me every night whether I want or not.
Slowly the routine turns in to something I can handle, giving some sense to my days. I bring game and clean it, before Sae divides it between Haimytch, Peeta, me and herself, I eat breakfast in silence with Peeta and Sae, and stumble over the meadow in the afternoon, but the nightmares are just as constant as any routine. I wake up tangled in my covers, drenched in sweat, my throat rough from screaming, light peering over the windows.
One morning after having breakfast, I decide to go out to the patch of Primroses, I frown looking at the weeds growing among the beautiful flowers, and before I know it, I'm pulling out the weeds enjoying the feel of the warm summer wind, getting dirt under my nails. Time flies by and the morning soon becomes too hot to stay out. I clean my hands as best as I can and get up, happy with my work. I glance over to the other victors' houses, and walk up to Haimytch's front door, as always, is open. I let myself in, and the pungent odor of filth greets me
"Good to know some things never change" I murmur to his figure laying passed out on the couch, or so I think
"Look what the cat dragged in!" he seats looking over for a bottle of white liquor. "What can I do for you sweetheart? Are you playing the good neighbor now?" he's tone is not scorn full, just harsh.
Surprised I stumble a bit before getting some actual phrase out of my mouth "Have you talked to him?"
"He's still mad at me for all the right reasons, but comes more often than you" he points over to the clean space over his table, a loaf of bread sits over a plate. I nod, not knowing what else to do, the questions I had plan to ask, the things I wanted to say where now jammed in my head. We sat in silence for a bit. Before I get up to leave I offer him a spot in my table for breakfast "It would make things easier for Sae" I add, not wanting the invitation to sound condescending.
So many jammed thoughts are plaguing my mind, I seat on the ground, facing the primroses and holding my knees as close as possible to me, after a while there I hear his loud steps on the ground before I see his feet by my side. "I can take them away if you don't like having them here" His voice is neutral. I feel a knot forming in my stomach, but I force myself to talk "No. They are lovely. Thanks for thinking of it" I take a deep breath "She would have loved them" I try to hold back the sobs threatening to overcome my body by taking another gulp of air. We just sit there, silently, with a small distance between us that somehow feels like an abyss, each abandoning ourselves to some forgotten memory of the past.
My muscles feel stiff when I try to get up, the sun light almost faded by now, he sees me struggling and offers me a hand, I take it not think much till he is holding it, even with the patches of new skin, his hands are soft, with a firm grip, warm, they are the hands of baker, the boy with the bread, my Peeta. I shake the thought away. I have no right to hope or give room to these feelings, and I let go of his hand as soon as I have retrieved balance. He gives me an inquiring look but asks no questions, he simply turns around saying, "I'll see you tomorrow" and his gone.
The nightmare is the same again, I'm lying on the bottom of a grave, and ashes are being thrown at me, they fill my mouth, my nostrils, I can't scream for them to stop without getting my mouth full of them, I try to block the pouring ashes with my arms, to no good avail, the pile keeps rising, I want to scream, get up and run but it's impossible, I can't move an inch, and then I hear it, to the distance, growing louder and louder, they are calling for my blood, calling my name accusingly.