Katniss POV
Everyday is the same. I drag myself out of bed each day and slump down to the kitchen were Greasy Sea is cooking my breakfast. I never talk to her though. I talk to no one. It is not that I can't talk, it is that I have no need to talk anymore. I have nothing to say to these people. So I stay silent and keep my thoughts to myself. Each day the phone rings and rings and rings, but I never pick it up. I don't like talking about my problems to the doctor, because if he know what huts me, he could use it against me. I share no thoughts of hurt, miss, love, or confusion, because then it shows my weakness.
After Greasy Sea finishes cooking, she politely sets down the plate of eggs and toast in front of me. The toast is slightly burnt in the middle and creeps to the edge slightly. Just staring at it brings many images to my head. It reminds me of the other burnt bread I once had and who I shared it with. My stomach churns just by the sight of it. Greasy Sea sit next to me and watches me to be sure I eat, but I can't now. I have completely lost my appetite. I know she is here to watch over me, but I have been back for five months and I don't need her hovering over me like I'm some little child. I can eat by myself and clean for myself and shop for myself. I wish she would just leave. Her constant smile and greeting personality makes me feel like I have done every thing wrong. Why is she still here? She did her job for the first two months, but what keeps bringing back?
I sit there for a half hour playing with my food and it has gotten so cold that it wouldn't be enjoyable to eat if I was going to. Greasy Sea sits up and looks at me with concern. I can't even look her in the eye. This women who is so nice to me and I am such a broken person.
"You done with that. It looks like you ate nothing." she lets out a big sigh and continues "Alright I will be back to make you dinner." She washes my plate and then leaves.
I sit there for another ten minutes. Then I crawl back up the stairs to go get changed. It's an improvement from the first few months were I did nothing. I get changed, try to eat, shower, and give fail attempts of sleep. When I'm done, I go back down stairs. I sit at the table for a few minutes and take deep breaths. This is what I found out works the best when I feel myself slipping away. I stretch my finger out across the rough wood and remember countless dinners here. The sound of my mother cooking, Prim's laugh, Haymitch's glasses clinking and his drunk laugh. I also remember Peeta's voice. His poetic sentences and humble comments. He would always look at me particularly after saying something funny and smile. I miss the way my life was before the Quell. The house was the same as I left it and after all that has happened to me during the course of the past year, I was unrecognizable. I felt like an intruder.
Time gets by me too fast and when I come back to realization and hour has already passed. So I sit up and head to the door. Each day I tend to roam the streets of the District. They are staring to rebuild things and seeing the progress makes me feel like there is hope. But it is silly how will a new building help me. I will never step foot into any of them.
As I walk out into town, I can see the foundation of a school being built. Some how seeing a school getting built make me feel very lonely. Prim would still be there learning. It seems like I can't stop thinking about her today. The table and now here at the school. I see her each night in my nightmares and now haunts me in my walking hours.
I walk around town for another hour or so and start to head back to my house. On my way home, I past the fence leading into the woods and pause for a few moments. The woods. What I would do to be in peace laying in it's over grown grass, smelling the fresh flowers and flowing streams. I miss the countless hours of hunting with Gale here. Laughing and talking, but even hunting isn't the same anymore. It doesn't give me the relief it use too. The animals seem to give no care that I am there. Usually I am too tiered to go hunting all day and give in after an hour. Feeling hopeless, I slowly turn away from the fence and start to walk again.
I see him looking into a shop window. One hand placed on his chin and he looks like he could be thinking about something. I stop and stare at him for a few minutes and when he turns away from the window his piercing blue eyes meet mine for just a few seconds. I am careful and look away very fast. He continues to stare though. Feeling uncomfortable I start to walk away. This is the first time we have even made eye contact in months. I can't shake the feeling that he will go mutt and attack me. But I will admit, I do miss the old Peeta. The one I could tell him anything, but now I am terrified to even think about him.
It takes another ten minutes to get home and when I do I head straight upstairs to take a nap. I had little to no sleep again last night and with out naps I would not be able to stay standing. I burrow under the covers and close my eyes. The warm afternoon light hits my face and warms it slightly. And then I lose myself in comfort.
She is there standing in the new school yard. She is talking to a group of friends, laughing with them. Then all of the sudden she light up with tongs of fire. She doesn't seem to notice. She continues to laugh with her friends. I try screaming her name and she hears nothing. I can see her body start to burn away and I try bringing over buckets of water, but once I start to get close to her the water disappears. I am going insane screaming her name, but she does nothing. I can't save her.
"KATNISS! Get up!" I abruptly open my eyes. I realize it was just a dream. My little sister isn't her and isn't dying. Of course you would have to be alive to die, and that would be were the problem would start. "Are you alright? I was cooking down stairs and heard you screaming." Greasy Sea says. I sit up and notice I can't stop shaking, I can feel tears on my face, and I am sweating. I look up at Greasy and she looks horrified. Something in her look make me feel crazy. She has never been here when I had one of my nightmares. I usually am flipping through tv channels when she arrives.
"I am sorry I had a bad dream. I am fine this is usual. I didn't mean to scare you." I say. These are some of the first words I have spoken in about two months. Greasy Sea stares at me like she is amazed I am capable of speech and then sits down on the edge of my messy bed.
"Sweetie how long have you been having dreams like this?" she asks
I have to think about it for a second. When was the first time I woke up screaming in the night. "Ummm I think I has been about two and a half years from now. Not counting the few dreams I had about my dad before the Games" I answer back
This seems to melt her. Maybe it is the fact I am talking and having a conversation, or the fact I am plagued with livid nightmares each time close my eyes. I am still sacking when I finish this thought and don't think I will stop soon. She stares at me thinking hard about something. Probity debating if she should send me to some crazy institution, but settles with a phone call.
I don't want to talk to the doctor. Not to anyone about my dreams. I see her typing the number on the phone and she looks up at me while rings. "I am just going to make a quick phone call to someone I will be right in the hall if you need me." she says. I can hear a male voice pick up in surprise. And then Greasy starts to walk out of the room.
"Hello" Greasy says. the voice on the other line seems a little disappointed when he answers back.
"Oh hi Greasy" he says. That was the last I heard until she closed the door. I sit there on my bed thinking about my dream. I couldn't save her. She stood there dying why I was screaming. Then I think, I will never save her. She isn't coming back. I couldn't help my little sister from becoming a burning human torch. I watched her die right before my eyes.
Minutes past and Greasy must still be on the phone. Then I hear her raise her voice enough that I can hear through the door what she is saying. "I don't know what to do. You are the only person in this District or maybe even anywhere that knows her the way you do! Can you at least talk to her! She is obviously still a mess. She needs you. You were there!" She yells. She also seems like she is crying. I can't here what the person on the other line is saying, but when I here Greasy reply I know she is crying. "She was in her room by herself screaming her little dead sisters name! I saw her crying! You know as much as I do that you are the only one that helps her get through this stuff! Sending me her to do your work when you should be here!" And that's the last I hear. Who is she talking to. Can it be my mom? But that doesn't explain the voice. When she finely comes back I am more confused then ever.
"Who was that?" I ask
"No one, no one. You hungry. My guess is you haven't eaten anything today" I shake my head. "Well then why don't you take a nice hot shower while I finish cooking, alright." I nod and she leaves the room. I drag myself into the shower and start to think again about what she said. I need someone. Who has always been there for me? A few answers come to mind. My mom, Haymitch, Gale, Hazel, and it is hard to admit, but Peeta. The deep voice eliminates my mom and Hazel. That leaves a drunk man who has my same problem and washes it away with drink, Gale who was my best friend who I haven't seem in months, and Peeta my fellow tribute my fiancé, mutt, friend, lover, husband, ally. I feel like Peeta. Trying to find the right words to describe him, but never coming to a logical answer. I see him almost every day and I know he sees me, yet every time I think about him a mixture of feelings hit me. What I feel is hurt, longing, and caution. I know he couldn't help what happened to him and I keep blaming it on him. He seems to be getting better. But there are still times when I walk past his house and hear things being smashed. I tried to help him while I was in the Capitol with him, but I feel that any attempt I make here will end in failure. He looks like me though. We both have the scars from the fire. The intense heat of live fire burning away at my flesh.
When my shower is over I head down stairs and see Greasy just finishing dinner. She gives me a big smile as I sit down. "I hope you like it I made lamb stew with the dry plumbs. I heard you liked it." Then she sets down a big bowl of stew in front of me and I dig in. I haven't been hungry all day and seeing my favorite meal being placed in front of me tears me apart. I lift heaping spoonfuls into my mouth.
I finish the entire bowl and another one too. After Greasy has finished with the dishes she turns to me and says "Listen if you have anymore nightmares tonight you come right to my house and I will make you some nice warm milk. How does that sound?" I nod my head.
"Thanks Greasy. I will" I lie. I know I wont. Going to her would just make me look weak. I survived two Hunger Games and a war, I can handle nightmares easily. Greasy nods and leaves waving her hand as she walks out the door.
I check the time to see if I should go outside and it seems like I could. Every night I go outside to watch the sunset. There is something about the way the colors spread across the evening sky that make my feel whole. I have set up a little chair on my back porch and I go out to it and sit down. The sun will start to sink down in about another half hour. Without the sunsets every evening I don't think I would be able to keep going. It is something about the sinking sun that makes me rise. Each day I struggle. I want to be with Prim, but I can't bring myself to do it. The sunsets are what drags me out of bed. What makes me walk around, eat and live. They make each day worth living. It gives me something to look forward to. They help me not fall to pieces. Each night as I sit here I think of something Finnick Odar said. It wasn't cheesy, immature, or useless. Instead it was inspirational. He said something about not falling to pieces. That it take long to heal than to fall apart. It is this phrase that keeps my sanity. Poor Finnick had already fallen to pieces when he told me this and he was trying to comfort me.
The sky is a brilliant color orange. Peeta's favorite color is sunset orange. Peeta. Then it his me. Why I come out every night, why Finnick had to comfort me, why I can't sleep, why I catch my self staring at him. Its him. I need him. It took this long to realize. Greasy must already know. She said it earlier to him on the phone. I need the Boy with the Bread