Are you, Are you
Coming to the tree
Where they strung up a man they say murdered three
You hunt. Peeta paints. You drink. Mostly you pace your shared bedroom. Peeta sleeps. You shake him awake from his fits of thrashing; watch him get tangled in the sheets from your perch on the window. You drink long from a bottle of the white liquor. The burning forces you to feel something, until it hits your stomach and you feel nothing, numbed and fuzzy and mute.
Dawn comes. Peeta brushes his hand against your cheek as heads downstairs to bake. You know he will check on Haymitch- resident of the couch- and spend hours baking. You keep your eyes away from the sun and take another pull.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree
Finally, when the purple tendrils of exhaustion creep from under the bed and into your temples, you sleep. The nightmares come slowly, seeping in like the Mist. You are dreaming of Rue. She is dancing with dandelions in her mass of black hair. She is spinning in a fiery orange dress. You are smiling and laughing, and far away. Gradually, her thick hair lengthens and grows lighter. The pigment in her skin and eyes fade, and you are looking at your little sister.
Prim! You yell, delighted. She looks so whole. Undamaged.
Her gold hair whips around her. She spins, faster, faster. Why won't she say anything? Maybe she can't hear you.
Prim! You scream, your voice getting lost in the wind. Prim, Prim, it's me, it's Katniss, I'm so sorry. You are sobbing.
Finally, she locks eyes with you. You can just make out her words over the wind.
Katniss, she says with an eerie calmness, Katniss, help me.
Are you, Are you
Coming to the tree
Where the dead man called out for his love to flee
Blaze. It is a terrible thing, to watch a human burning. Her hair is the first to catch; it burns exquisitely and straight to her head. You watch her skin bubble and drip like a melting candle. You are running toward her. You go nowhere.
Prim, Prim! Why are you helpless? You claw desperately at the ground, will your knees to propel yourself toward her. You have to do something.
Prim-on-fire smiles sadly- doesn't reach for you. You didn't protect me, Katniss.
I tried, you scream, reaching, shoulders aching, clawing at the dirt, if only to get close to her. I tried, Prim, I Won, I Won for us, but her head is shaking and her eyes are closing.
Goodbye, Katniss. She is peaceful as the fabric of the dress goes up brilliantly. Like a sunset.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree
Peeta is there, suddenly. Wiping your face, smoothing back your hair. You sit up, look away from him. You lean over the edge of the bed and are suddenly, violently ill. Sick spatters the golden molding that edges the hardwood.
He makes a noise in his throat and draws you to him, ignoring your feeble attempt to push him away. He tucks your head under his chin and hums low in his throat.
Are you, Are you
Coming to the tree
Where I told you to run, so we'd both be free.