A/N: So... I wrote this while I was supposed to be doing homework... the nightmare is one of my own... ugh. (Not hunger games people, my family and friends). Okay I was just thinking that it's really hard to go from suicidal to normal, so this is Katniss, adjusting after the war is over.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE HUNGER GAMES!
Alone. A terrible, overwhelming feeling of loneliness. I don't know how I knew, but it was certain. I was surrounded by emptiness, surrounded by no one. I stood in a large hall that had sunlight struggling to creep in. The hall had obviously once been grand, once seen woman twirling in bright dress, heard sweet music and the buzz of voices. Now, now there was just me, alone in a ruined hall. Curious, I walked around, until I saw a small passageway, leading away from the hall. My brain screamed not to go there, it was a trap, no, stay in safety of the hall. My legs, however, didn't obey. I found myself walking quickly down the dark hallway, away from the dim light of the hall. At the end of the corridor was a room. At first, it seemed a normal room, an innocent place. But, then, the door slammed behind me. Straining to open it, I discovered it was locked. Locked. The dark, velvet curtains lifted, revealing a dark glass case. One by one lights flickered on, showing what was housed in the cases. First, first was Glimmer, her green eyes staring, blonde hair limp and greasy. I choked, unable to pull my eyes away from her. That is, until the next set of lights flicked on. Clove, the bloodthirsty killer, her face in an expression of terror, dull green eyes wide, mouth silently screaming. I fought back the sick feeling in my throat. I would not cry over Glimmer and Clove, I would not. But, even as I thought this, the tears started to come. Next, Rue, a silver tear on her face, then Marvel, Thresh, Foxface and Cato, all frozen in positions of varying horror. A clanging sound came from behind me, causing me to spin on my heel. The final light was coming on, slower than the rest. Peeta.
"NO!" I screamed, slamming my fists on the glass. "No! Come back! PEETA!"
His face remained blank and uncaring. "Please. Please." I whispered, sinking to the floor.
I tried to wake up. But, when I tried, I just hovered in this half awake, half asleep place that was full of dead eyes and clammy hands.
"Wake up Katniss!" I yelled at myself into the mist. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to think. Why wasn't I able to wake up? I struggled to remember the night before. What happened? A couple snatches of memory came back, screaming, knives glinting in my hands, blood staining my kitchen floor. Who's blood was it? I put every fiber of my being into remembering. Then, the night started to return in shattered fragments. Me, screaming, hysterical. Peeta trying to calm me. Me running from the room, to the kitchen, pulling a knife out of the block. My arms, pale and white, then suddenly stained in blood, the knife dragging itself along the insides of my wrists, on my palms. Collapsing on the floor, sleeping pill forced into my mouth and then… blackness.
"Katniss!" a voice called as if far, far away. "Katniss!"
My misty, dream world started to disappear, around me. Maybe, maybe I was waking up.
I blinked in the bright sunlight. I was in my bed, and it was morning. I looked down at my hands and saw they were bandaged. So were my arms.
"Katniss?" A soft voice asked.
I turned quickly, too quickly. My vision blurred and pinpricks of darkness dotted it.
"Slow. Be careful." The voice continued. Then, I recognized it. The voice belonged to Peeta.
"Peeta?" I whispered. "What happened?"
He walked into my line of vision, and I saw that he looked exhausted, his face gray, dark circles under his eyes.
"Oh Katniss. Two nights ago, a replay of the 74th Hunger Games came on. Well, not a replay exactly. It was a program about rebellion. They showed Rue's death. You were… you were upset, but did nothing. Then, the program continued, and… and they showed the footage from…from the final part of the war. They showed Prim's death. You… you…" His voice broke and he shook his head, but continued. "You got up. I thought you were going to bed or something, but you started to scream. Before any of us could do much, you had run screaming to the kitchen, and locked yourself in. By the time we got through the door, you had… you had… already done this." He gently touched my arms. "You were surrounded by blood. Katniss, you terrified me."
Then, his voice finally broke, and he started to quietly cry. I was shocked. How could I have… have hurt myself and not remember it?
"Peeta?" I whisper, almost afraid. "Did I… hurt anyone else?"
He gives me a gentle smile and shakes his head. "You seriously damaged the kitchen table, though. It may be scarred for good."
His pathetic attempt at a joke causes me to laugh, probably too loudly. Peeta smiles at me and starts to laugh too. The awful funniness of the scene hits me then. Two kids, scarred and broken, laughing hysterically over a joke wasn't even funny. I think that's when I start to cry. Peeta looks confused for a second then holds my bandaged hand.
"Kat…Kat… don't cry."
I look at his hand in mine for a second. I try to stop crying, but it's impossible. Peeta starts to stroke my hand with his and murmur, "Kat…Kat…shhh… it's okay…" I let him hug me, hold me tightly. When his lips gently brushed my neck, I tensed for a minute.
"I'm sorry Katniss. I didn't mean to."
I made a quick decision there. "No. No, it's okay. Don't stop." Looking up, I see his eyes widened. Then, he gently kisses my forehead. I turn my head up, and, for the first time in forever, he kisses me. I had forgotten how soft his mouth was, how it fit perfectly against mine. I had forgotten how he always tasted of cinnamon. Forgotten how kissing him made me feel safe again. He broke away from the kiss and curled his hands around my waist. I put my head on his chest and, for the first time in forever, I felt safe.
A/N: Please review. I want to improve my writing, and the only way I can do that is if you all give me feedback! Thank you!