A/N: Random drabble, enjoy, and DFTBA!
The Demons Come At Night
Two broken hearts, both fighting for attention
Both with regrets on their shoulders,
and doubts in their minds.
"I gave it to Katniss." the five year old says innocently. She slaps him hard against his cheek, and sends him to bed without dinner. The pain and sadness wells up inside of her. She feels guilty for hurting him, but her anger at Daniel for loving her overpowers it. They had the perfect relationship until she came along. Larkspur Matilda Everdeen. Now, she's nothing but merchant girl turned Seam trash, wallowing away in her own self-pity and grief, she thinks smugly. But Danny still loves Larkspur, not her, and she can never change that. The Mellark men are cursed, destined to fall in love with the Everdeen women, until the end of time.
One will never be truly loved,
One sinking in grief.
Lost souls in a dark world.
No one will ever love her. At least, that's what her parents told her. Anyway, now they're lying in a shallow grave at the edge of the District, like all other dead Merchants.
In a shack in the Seam, small but warm and comforting, a couple stands wrapped in each other's embrace. Larkspur and Jonathan Everdeen. Later that night, lying wide awake in bed, one feels a tiny bit of regret. Daniel Mellark professed his love for her under the apple tree in his backyard, but she ran off with Jon. Now he's stuck with that witch Briar, and she feels sympathy for the family who owns the bakery in town. Despite the fact that their children will never starve, never take out terasse, never be destined to slave away in a coal mine, she pities the Mellarks.
They go their seperate ways,
but their minds are always on each other.
Smoke billows out of the mine at the west end of 12. Bodies surround them, both alive and dead. Seam and Merchant. Miner and Shopkeeper. Hunter and Baker. She doesn't come out. Doesn't want to see the tragedy. She pities the Everdeens, for once.
Little did they know, that five years later, the world would be pitying them both, shaking their heads. Those poor, poor children.
It's not over yet.
More demons are yet to come.