Authors Note: Hi! This is my first fanfiction so I apologize if there are any mistakes in it! I know that many Hunger Games fans wished Suzanne Collins had written more about how Peeta and Katniss grew back together so I decided to write my own version. Enjoy. And please review and let me know if there's anything I should change!
I stare at Buttercup curled up in the lonely patch of sunlight on the kitchen floor. His paws are twitching and I find myself hoping that whatever dreams pervade his subconscious are peaceful unlike the nightmares that wrack my body with tremors night after night. Ever since I'd gone outside to find Peeta planting Primrose along the side of the house a month ago, Prim had starred in my nightmares. Each one was a new death for her, some hideous and brutal like being ripped apart by Glimmer's muttation, some less bloody but still horrific like being buried alive in the avalanche from when we destroyed the Nut. I find myself squeezing the pen in my hand so hard that it breaks in half and ink splatters across the page I'd been writing in the Memory Book.
The Memory Book was an idea I'd come up with not long after my return to District 12. I'd been trying to scrape my brain for any good memory to think of before I went to sleep. This had been part of Dr. Aurelius's attempt to subdue my nightmares. He told me to think of something good each night before I fell asleep. I know he was trying to help, but all my pleasant memories had been burned away with the fire from the bomb that killed Prim. And even if I could recall a day where I felt happy, the nightmares would be sure to destroy it, twisting it into some evil thing, almost as if I were being given a dose of tracker jacker venom.
But one night, as I lay there fighting the heaviness of my eyelids, dreading the second when I lost the battle and the nightmares began, an image of Annie Cresta under the protective arm of Finnick Odair snuck into my mind. It began to fade quickly and I struggled to hold onto it only to find another and even more pleasant memory emerge —Prim and her goat Lady curled up in front of the fire. After this came Cinna, twisting my hair into a long, silky braid. Then my father singing to the Mockingjays. The sudden rush of memories made my heart sore. With tears of longing, I scribbled the memories down on my sheets before they could slip away. Afterward, I sat on my bed, running my finger along each line, soaking in the warmth of the memories. The next morning, I called Dr. Aurelius and told him my plan. It'd been too long since I'd had something to work on that wasn't hurting someone else. Something that made me feel close to happy. I wasn't sure if I'd ever feel true happiness again with my damaged mind.
I grab a towel from the kitchen and begin dabbing the ink spots off the page. This one in particular is dedicated to Rue. After putting it off for so long, I finally decided it was time to remember her. I didn't want to have to face the pain of the memories, but I was equally afraid that if I waited too long, I would forget. Despite the aching in my ribcage, I sit back down to write. The upper left corner has been reserved for Rue's picture. Since there are no actual photographs of her in my possession, I know I'll have to ask Peeta to sketch one.
Peeta. There's a name that sends so many emotions through my body I usually have to sit down when I hear it. Since the Primroses, I've only seen him from the top of the stairs when I'm watching him deliver cheese buns to Greasy Sae in the mornings when she makes me breakfast, which used to be daily but now that I've proven to her I can somewhat care for myself, she comes in maybe twice a week.
The only time I've been face to face with Peeta was when I brought the Memory Book to his house to sketch in the few people I'd found the strength to write about. I was still a shaky mess then. When he opened the door I barely managed to croak, "Could you…?" and hand him the book before I wheeled around and sprinted home.
Writing about Rue isn't helping me keep my mind off Peeta, since she was a tribute in our first Games. After another hour of staring at the page, I decide to go hunting to clear my mind. I slide my father's hunting jacket on gently. My arms are still accepting my new Capitol skin and are tender. I lace up my boots, grab my new bow that Beetee made and managed to get to me, and swing the sheath of arrows across my back.