A/N: Hey! So, if you happened to be a reader of my other story, Secrecy (a Psych fic- which I recommend you check out if you have a Netflix account- I think you would like it!), I promise I am working on the next chapter. Anyways, this is actually a Hunger Games story. It's kind of tragic, and is told kind of like an odd poem/story mix. I usually don't like these, but I ended up writing this today, so I thought I might as well post it! By the way, I wasn't sure what I should rate it, since it doesn't have anything really bad, but it does have things about Peeta when he was still sick (for lack of a better word) from the hijacking. Poor Katniss. This doesn't really fit into the plot of the story, but it's not AU either. I guess it's kind of like an inference scene. I also guess you really don't care- you'll know what it is once you read it. Please review! :) I love to get notifications about reviews or favorriting- makes my day. Anyways, enjoy!
He's gone. No, not gone. Stolen. Yes. That's right. It's almost worse than gone, dead, missing. I know he's alive, I know where he is- right in front of me. I just can't reach him. Is he even there anymore? I can see his face, so familiar, yet unrecognizable. With a cold, stony expression instead of a loving, soft one. I miss that one. I close my eyes and imagine him shaking out of this trance, remembering me like he always did, loving me again. Seeing me standing there and smiling at me, like nothing ever happened. I run into his arms, joyful tears spilling out of my eyes, as he whispers in my ear "Always"- my eyes snap open, once again looking into a face filled with anger, pain. Always. Have they ruined that memory too? Does he remember it at all? I suddenly want to rush in, tell him to snap out of it, to stop torturing me- Haymitch taps my arm. I look over and he gives md the nod that I know all too well- the one that means it's time for me to leave. He has a worried glint in his eye, cluing me in to the fact that he saw my expression change, saw the fierce fury that doesn't come as often anymore, but still penetrates my grief sometimes. I consider arguing, as I always do, but decide against it, as I always do. I stand up, with Haymitch and Gale following suit, glancing at each other, unsure of my intent. I sigh in defeat and give one last look at him, wishing he could see me. Gale puts a hand on my shoulder, urging me to move- I'm tempted to pull away from his touch, but I know he's just trying to help. I still feel guilty with Gale around. I head for the door while Plutarch whispers something to Haymitch. I could listen, but there's no need- I already know what he's saying. 'Has she spoken yet?' And it's always the same reply. 'No.' It repeats everyday. Haymitch follows me to the door as Plutarch reaches for his walkie-talkie to tell the doctors and scientists to return. Gale opens the door for me and I walk out, not looking behind me. I wonder if he will return. If I will ever see the real him again. As Gale walks me to my room, I know I'll keep going back. Everyday. Always.
A/N: What did ya think? I know it's short. It was originally sort of like someone telling Katniss this (all the 'I''s were "you"'s, etc.), but I decided to convert it as I was typing it, so I apologize if there are any "you"'s still in there. Wow, that was wierd to type. Anyways, it was supposed to be a one-shot, but I realized it could be continued. So review, tell me what you think, and whether I should continue or not! Thanks!
-Semisweetie
P.S. I love to get PM's from people, so if you like to talk, I would be overjoyed to get a message from you! :