Six months. That's how long it's been. Since we've been here. The Victor's Village, where I am trying to find peace in myself, yet I am reminded. Through the mikado yellow eyes of Buttercup, that wretched creature, I see the injustice of my sister's death. That girl who was that constant, that gave me strength, for without her; how could I have valued my life above 23 other "children" in the 74th Hunger Games? One who was Peeta. The boy with the bread that gave me hope in humanity once again.
Haymitch and I started hunting, I quickly found the ropes again. Although it isn't the same – it never will be. Gale and I hunted because we had to. I felt enraptured in danger, climbing that high chain-link fence, topped with barbed wire loops, and I miss that feeling. I miss talking to Gale. How we had plans to escape, that would never have become a reality, but if they did—how would things be now? - Would the Hunger Games still be in play? And would my sister still be dead?
I throw away these thoughts when Peeta arrives at my bed-side, he presents me with a platter of breads buttered in fruity jam, and a glass of pure orange juice. He bakes the bread himself, every morning – what a delight to wake up to the aroma of Peeta's baking. It reminds me, everyday, how I felt when I walked past his family's bakery when we were just children. "Thank you" I whisper into his ear, he replies - "No problem at all darling". He sits on the bed, how he has, every morning, for the last six months, and we talk, about the small things. Greasy Sae's granddaughter's antics—the odd but amusing questions she asks. Haymitch's geese. Peeta's baking.
As I finish wiping bread crumbs from around my lips, the phone rings... I answer it, certain it would be Dr Aurelius. But a panicked Plutarch greeted me, "Katniss?!"... "Yes" I reply in lethargic tone as anyone else would so early in the morning. "Paylor just rung, alarmed she was, informed me that there have been supporters of Snow demonstrating an uprising. She tells me You, Peeta and Haymitch must expect a visit from her. Please keep yourself safe, stay in District 12"... My heart starts racing, just like it did when I jumped the high chain-link fence with Gale all those many moons ago.
This was inevitable, at some point or another. Perhaps Coin was right, a Hunger Games for the Capitol, our chance to give them a taste of their own medicine. Or was Peeta right? Has nothing changed? We could simply be those people, seventy-five years ago or so. That sat around initiating The Hunger Games.
Peeta asks me, "Are you okay?", "Who was on the phone?"...