AN: Hi everyone! This is my oneshot for Firebird128's SYOT prompt, so I hope you all like it!
Katniss POV
He was dead. She was dead. They were all dead. Now all that was left was me. And we all know that I'll be like them soon enough. Everyone that I loved was dead.
They were all killed the same way. In front of me. With an arrow to the head. One of my arrows. Shot with the bow my father made me. How ironic is it that the weapons if the face of the rebellion were used to end it.
He was the first to go. The Peacekeepers took him from our house in the Victor's Village to the market square. They took me with them. Five minutes and a scream from me later, there was a dead body on the ground and a hysterical sobbing girl being dragged back to her house. That girl was me. The so-called Mockingjay. The boy was him. Peeta Mellark.
Haymitch once told me that we could live a hundred lives and not deserve Peeta. The raw truth in that sentence didn't hit me until now. None of us deserved him. He died without crying out, but just stood there, held back by the Peacekeepers, not even trying to escape. He had a calm expression on his face. Like he knew this was going to happen. Peeta always wanted to die peacefully, but never got his wish. I guess we couldn't protect him after everything we tried.
LINE BREAK
Prim was next in line after Peeta. My mother and Haymitch already died. Haymitch in the rebellion, and my mother of old age. I was glad they weren't here to see all the damage done. They'd just be two more deaths I'd have to see. More blood on my hands. Blood that wasn't from my acts, but blood from the hands of others.
Prim never struggled against anyone. Never. So when they took her, she let them drag her. She knew that putting up a fight wouldn't do any good. Unlike me. I fought. I kicked. I screamed. But they still took her. They shot her quickly, though. One "I love you, Katniss" and she was dead. Just another body to be buried in one of the many graveyards you can find in District 12.
They say that time heals all sicknesses of the mind and heart. But I never really got over Prim's death. With Peeta gone, I didn't have anything to live for, but I kept on going because Prim needed me. When Prim died, I lost everything. There was nothing left to go back to. Nothing. I was just an empty shell. A living corpse. A slight bit more than the ones in graves. Not a zombie, or even the living dead. Just a body. Everything working, just no life in it. Prim would hate to see me like this. Peeta would try to make me feel better. Haymitch would come over with a bottle of liquor and talk. My mother would give me some soup and bread. But none of then are here. It's just me now. Me and that cat. Buttercup. If he wasn't the one thing that reminded me of Prim, he would've been long gone. I guess the cat's here for me and I'm here for him. Cats have feelings, right?
Every day, I walk by the market square where it all happened. Usually, I would be able to hold in the hysterics, but today I couldn't. They came out right when I walked by the post, and saw the blood splattered across the ground. The blood of all the deaths I had caused. On a regular day, seeing all the blood would just make me choke and I would run off and hide myself in a closet in my house. Today was the one-year mark of Prim's death, and yesterday was Peeta's. I could never keep in the sobs and shrieks on these days.
Reaping day came soon enough, and as the only Victor from District 12, I was the mentor. Now I knew how Haymitch felt, being the only Victor and mentor, and seeing two helpless kids fight to the death. Or starve, for that matter. Even being back in the Capitol brought back unwanted memories. The wedding dress, the clock, and the wire. And the failed rebellion that led to my current state. Effie was still the escort this year, and all through the train ride, she was giving me sympathetic looks. I was drowning in pity. Self-pity and the kind that others give you.
The two kids lasted long enough in the arena. But as nothing lasts forever, they died off. I did all that I could. And as the circle goes around again, it wasn't enough and I had more blood on my conscience.
LINE BREAK
Years have passed. Many years. And with all those years, come the Games. Although President Snow has died, the Games still continue. Two Quarter Quells have come and gone. One where the tributes were put in a Coliseum and forced to fight each other to the death. With weapons that were chosen by random. A boy from One won that year. Another Quell came that all the tributes fight duplicates of themselves. A girl from 6 won because she was so harmless her duplicate was also peaceful. Even so, I watched hundreds of tributes die.
One night, I fell asleep with Buttercup snoring on my chest. For the first time in a while, I didn't have a bad dream. I still had a dream, mind you. I wasn't all good yet.
In my dream, Prim and everyone who died because of me appeared, with Peeta at the front of the group. He told me that I could choose my fate. Now, choosing your fate isn't an easy thing. You just don't go and say "sure", and be done with it. You need a LOT of thinking. Going over the consequences. Because say the wrong thing, you could be stuck with the life you never wanted. So when they asked me if I wanted to stay here, in this dream, which was technically in heaven, or wherever spirits go, or wake up and keep on living my life, I was surprised. This was what I always wanted. To be with my friends and family. To stop being a living corpse. But now, there was Buttercup. The tributes without a mentor. I couldn't do it. I couldn't leave people helpless and stranded. It wouldn't do.
And I said no. I would wake up and keep living. I saw my friends and family once, and I will see them again. But now, I need to live my life. Go back to the district I left behind. And as I woke up, there was one thing on my mind.
I was back from the dead