A/N: Just started thinking about what Katniss' and Prim's mother must have been thinking during her depression. Tell me what you think.
I can't open my eyes. The lids are too heavy. Nausea rolls up my chest, but I push it back down. I wouldn't want to get up even if there was something in my stomach to expel. Why am I nauseated? Oh. He's gone. The pain rips my chest open again burning away any sense of nausea that bubbled up from the black hole that emerged since I heard the news of the mine explosion. The ringing begins in my ears again and I know if I were standing the dizziness would cause me to fall. I know because the bed upon which I lay feels as if it's rolling and convulsing and trying to buck me from its back.
My mind screams, Why him? I gave up everything for him and he became my everything. In the silence that follows the mental echoes of my screams is nothing but a whisper: Now, there is nothing.
The ringing continues.
There is no reason to open my eyes. If I open my eyes she'll be there. She'll be there staring at me with his deep blue eyes. All I'll see is him, but I'll know it's not him. And I'll hate her for it. It's all I have of him and I'll end up hating her if I see her.
The other one wears his clothes. I wonder if she does it to taunt me. Does she know that I can smell the fire in his jacket even if I don't see her put it on? I can hear the flapping of the soft leather. Because my eyes are closed I can feel his breath on the back of my neck because he used to kiss me there on his way out the door thusly clad. I don't look at her either. She doesn't have his eyes, but when I don't look at her she doesn't speak. I can't bear to hear her speak. I hope she never sings again…I couldn't bear to hear the words he taught her in a voice that's hers but a timbre that's all his.
I need to go back to sleep. I've never been one for sweet flavors, but the syrup promises me the blackness I crave where I can control the things that happen to me. I've been told that not everyone can control their dreams, but I could always point them in the direction I wanted to go. I want to see him again. I drink more syrup than I should.
I can hear them arguing. I don't want to eat and I don't care if I've lost weight. If I eat I'll have to open my eyes. If I eat, I'll have to leave the safety of my bed to take care of bodily functions. Moving hurts. Thinking hurts. Caring hurts. It's better not to care. It's so much easier to sleep.
I wonder how long my eyes have been open. I can tell she's looking at me. Her cold eyes just stare at me. Why do I care? Why can't I turn it off? Why can't I just lay here and die? Then my body could lie next to him in the cold dead hole that matches the feeling in my chest. Maybe if I make her mad enough she'll kill me. If looks could kill I'd already be dead.
I try my voice. My mouth is dry. I smack my lips closed and move my tongue around. I try to focus my eyes on her. I can tell she hates me. When they do focus there is a sneer on her lips.
"What?" I try again. It comes out like a croak but not much louder than a whisper.
She leaves the room. Good. I don't need her here. She doesn't know what I've lost. She doesn't know what I gave up to love her father. She doesn't know what she took from me when she was born and he took the time I had with him and gave it to her. I'm the one who should be giving her that look. She never gave anything to him, just took. I gave him everything and now he's gone.
No! The other comes in! I can't look at her eyes! I'll just keep my eyes averted. But that blue. How did a man from the seam get such blue eyes? How did he pass them on so perfectly?
She sits me up. I've taught her well even though she's so young. Ouch! That's hurts my heart. She's so young and needs so much and I can't help her. I just can't. I swallow the water she tips in my mouth because my body gives me no choice. My body just takes over then and drinks the whole glass. I don't feel better though. I'm just wet.
She's saying things in a soothing voice. I don't want to love her, but I can't help myself. I couldn't stop myself from loving him, either. I'm tired again. The water has given me enough strength to lay myself down again. Sleep takes me back under its delicious darkness where blue eyes don't exist and melodious voices can be muffled with a mental redirection.
Dandelion soup? I'm being forced to eat dandelion soup. I can see that blue reflected in the spoon. I wish the other one would feed me. It's easy to not feel love when they don't like you. The blue eyed one is just too kind hearted…she's too much like him. The other is too much like me. Does that mean she hurts as much as I do? Did she love him that much too? Does she see him in her sister's blue eyes, too? What am I doing?
I need to sleep.
I'm going to try today. I think they're at school. My legs feel like lead. I have to urinate. She made me eat that soup. The bathroom is so far away, but I'm going to try.
I sit up and turn my body to put my feet on the floor. There is a patch of sun that peeks through the hole in the small window shade. I watch it as it crawls across my right foot. I try to figure out if I can feel heat from its kiss or if its hovering above my foot just taunting me. Providence has a twisted sense of humor and it has enlisted the help of the sun. I decide long after the patch of sneering light has passed over my left foot that it's better not to care.
I'm tired again, but I still have to pee. The walk through the kitchen shows me that the girls are not lazy. That makes me tired, too. I sit on the toilet and the cold tile reminds me that I am alone as it leaches the heat from the bottoms of my feet. I don't bother to clean myself. There is no one here who cares.
I'm so tired I don't make it back to bed. I'll just sit in this chair and close my eyes.
She's cooing over me. She looks so happy when she looks at me. I make the mistake of looking back at her. I see hope in those blue puddles. She's stupid for hoping. At least the other one has lost all the hope. I can deal with her better. But, she won't deal with me. I get up. I don't know how I find the energy. I just don't want her hopeful eyes on me. I feel guilty for giving her that hope and I'd rather not feel anything.
I go back to bed. There is nothing for me out here. Why did I even try?
The last time I gave everything I had I lost it. I have nothing left to give.