It was a cold spring morning as I lie in my bed. I hear birds chirping outside as I study the ceiling of my bedroom. I think myself. I am Katniss Everdeen-Mellark. I am roughly 39 years old. I was in the Hunger Games. I won with Peeta by my side. It's been a long time since the Hunger Games have been over, but there are still nightmares. I take a breath as I feel an arm tightly wrap around my side.
The man next to me snore softly, his embrace feels magnificent as I grab his hand, however as much as I like it I must go out. I must hunt, it's like my therapy. As I turn over in my bed I hear the springs squeak. I frown, but try to squirm from his grip some more.
"Katniss, today is special. Back to bed.'' He groaned as he held me tighter.
"Peeta, I need to hunt" I softly exclaim, but it falls on deaf ears since Peeta has already fallen back asleep. Five minutes go by before I give in towards him and slink back down into bed. I yawn tiredly and before I know it Peeta has straddled me, he softly kisses my lips, it's tender and sweet. It reminds me of our innocent days of youth, which makes me smile.
"I thought we were going back to bed!" I say a little loud, but end up laughing as I kiss him back. His arms caress my sides and I wrap my arms around his neck.
Suddenly, the bedroom door goes flinging open and a child, roughly the age of twelve runs through the door. His tight blonde curls bouncing as Peeta rolls off me.
I hear Peeta let out a soft groan as he stares at his son. "Ew." Another child, roughly seventeen, says as her dark wavy locks sweep over her eyes.
"Harry, come on. We'll be late for school." She grumbles as she walks down the stairs. "Mom!" Harry, the young blonde boy, shouts as he hugs me.
"Yes?" He give him a quizzical look, but he kisses my cheek before running off to his sister.
"We have such a strange little boy." I say to Peeta, who can only loudly laugh.
"Coming from someone who hides in cabinets and behind washing machines." He mutters before kissing me on the cheek. I roll my eyes and turn over, but he puts his hand on my shoulder and he rolls his fingers through my long locks.
"Do you remember what today is?" He asks, but my mind draws a blank.
"Uh, the twenty-third?" I seem confused on the days, but Peeta seems irritated.
"So what day did you get married on?" Peeta gives a hint, but he doesn't wait for an answer, he just gets up and dresses, leaving me by myself. I sigh.
"Damn it." I mutter as I roll over and get out of bed. I go over to the window and watch as my daughter goes off to school with her brother.
Harry walks ahead and she mopes along like all children do when it comes time for school. She meets up with some handsome boy, roughly a year older than her and laughs.
He seems to like her, and then I recall a memory which still hurts to this day. I leave the window and pull out a dress, since it is a special day after all. I pull out a dress that was designed by Cinna, my old friend, and pull it from the garment bag.
"If only you seen what he could do with velvet." I mutter before slipping into it. The olive-colored gown manages to fit snugly and covers all of my battle scars.
They're a painful reminder of what I've survived, but they also remind me that I have two beautiful children for all the pain I've endured. I sit on the edge of the bed and twirl my wedding ring, which is metal and shaped like a mocking jay. I think about how we ended up where we are today.
I smile and think about the proposal, how surprising it actually was. How I found out I was pregnant, not once, but twice. I decide to twirl in the gown, which was an obvious mistake since the sheer motion makes my heart sink. The last time I twirled like this had to of been for my Hunger Game interview. I feel sick and rush to the bathroom, where I vomit in the sink. I look at my face and see a pale face, I'm still saddened when I think of the games.
I think of Primrose often and suddenly I shed a tear which I quickly wipe away. Feeling that this is as good as I will be today I walk downstairs, thinking Peeta is still around, He isn't, probably went into the square to his little bakery, since it helps clear his mind.
I hear a tap at the door, but the figure doesn't wait for me to open it, he strolls in. I notice the oak cane and my eyes go up.
It's Haymitch, I give a look. "I'm old, got a problem with it, sweetheart?" He's edgy, probably coming off from a drinking binge. I shake my head and have a seat at the table.
"What do you want?" I snarl.
"We need to speak." He says, a ring of concern is in his voice and I frown, this can't be good. He strides over to my cabinet and digs through them, grunting and cursing that we don't have liquor, until he digs all the way in the back and comes across a small bottle of white liquor which is coated in twenty years of dust.
"Ha!" He screams happily as he twists off the top and takes a seat at the table.
"What information do you wish to provide me with?" I question, trying to keep up a guard, since I know Haymitch never comes with good news.
"Well, sweetheart, let me tell you...congrats, I didn't know you could be married for as long as you have, let alone be a mother." I roll my eyes as he breath wreaks of liquor.
"I know you didn't come here for congratulations..." I mumbled and he obviously heard, since his tone get quite serious.
"It's not. I've come to inform you that the Capitol has risen and our leader has been murdered." I'm frozen as I hear what Haymitch says. I try to process everything, and the first words out of my mouth are "What?"
"Do you remember Snow?" He asks sharply and I nod, it's impossible to remember a snack such as him. "His granddaughter is the head of the operation, she's rising back to power and...it doesn't look good." I nod as I try to think of what to say. It's hard to believe, that...this could actually be happening, it's probably what the Capitol thought twenty years ago..." I frown and rake my nails across the table.
"How long?" I ask, not exactly knowing what I meant.
"Before...all hell breaks loose?" Haymitch responds, I give a slight nod of my head and he sighs deeply. "I say a month or two, but I could be wrong." My chest becomes tight, breathing become difficult, if not impossible as I stand from my chair and bolt out the door, not even stopping to put on shoes.
