Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to Suzanne Collins; the spectacular author of The Hunger Games Trilogy.
We sit on a rugged sofa with the firewood blazing in front of our very eyes; the quaint combination illuminating the darkly-lit room. Our children are safely concealed by the covers of their beds; shrouded from the living nightmares of the Capitol with ourselves as its manifestations.
It is a picture-perfect moment, is what I tell myself to elude the endless pit of orange bubbles and ants.
If I had envisioned my future fifteen years ago, I did not allow myself to be entitled to such an unreachable state of happiness.
I believe that this moment is my happiness even though there are daunting thoughts that will always find its way to my mind.
"What are you thinking about?" asks Peeta, his voice soft and gentle, almost like the pitter patter of falling rain. He is gently brushing the caramel locks out of my eyes and hesitantly, twirls a stray lock between his fingers. I can not look at him, so I remain my sight trained on the fire with the cracking sounds penetrating the screaming silence.
I do not think twice of my answer.
"How the fire will never die out." My voice is a mere feeble murmur, but I know Peeta's excellent hearing was put to use.
He sighs and strokes my pale cheek. "The girl on fire is no longer with us. You don't need to worry."
It is my cue to stare at him with nonchalance, but he knows better than anyone that I am livid.
"No, it is the aftermath that rekindles the fire."
He knows I am speaking of the truth. The consequences of this historical event were innumerable. Although the aftermath seems to be rather surreal due to the claustrophobic grasp of the Capitol, happiness will always be there to remind us both how real the nightmares were and still are.
The girl on fire was still alive with muttations and roses dipped in blood tormenting her in her dreams. They would never cease, and so the fire would remain kindled.
Suddenly, his expression grows vacant and void of emotion. My breath is caught in my throat and my heart beats irregularly that I do not have time to grasp the situation before Peeta grips the armrest of the sofa. His countenance is contorted into something along the lines of undying anger and insanity.
And suddenly, I am almost drowned by the endless pit of orange bubbles and ants.
That is when it hits me.
There is no end to the reign of the Capitol - dead or alive.
I finished the trilogy and I must say - I am not disappointed at all. Although more fluff between Peeta and Katniss would have me melting within seconds, I am amazed by the story and its complexity. I had no idea what I was going to write but I knew I had to write something under this category. It is a pointless one-shot but I'm glad to have buried myself in a few minutes of productive working during these holidays. Please excuse the grammar and the plot isn't very... well, prepared.
I hope you remember that Peeta is periodically under the influence of the tracker jacker and that Katniss - seeing that she loves him with such an undying passion - she also shares this specific symptom because they are correlated with such a deep, unbreakable bond (almost like they are one whole).
I hope you all enjoy 2012.
~I've Perfected Imperfection.