Katniss POV
I watched the blood trickle down my arm. The feeling of pain, not because of the bleeding, but the pain of how much I hated myself, my life. I picked up the knife and cut once more. More blood rushed down my arm. The scarlet liquid seeped down onto my white skirt. I liked it, blood red on snowy white. I heard knocking on my door,
"Sweetheart open the door"
I didn't reply. Why couldn't Haymitch and everyone else mind their own business. To relieve the pain, Haymitch turned to alcohol and I turned to cutting. Myself.
"Katniss, you've been in there a week now. You have to come out"
I continued to stare at my arm. A canvas covered in scars, both inside and out. Angry red marks, overlapping each other, some more recent than others. I liked it. No one could stop me now. I had the control of what happened to me for the first time in my life. I wasn't in the arena anymore. Well that's not strictly true. I was still battling for survival in my head, but I was slowly losing. I had two choices. Rush to the cornucopia and get it over with, or run away and hide for the rest of my life. Right now, I just wanted to end it. End it all. And I could do that. I could end it all right now, this second. All it took was one more cut and my suffering would be over. No more pain.
"Katniss, I'm breaking the door down unless you let me in!"
I just ignored him, his voice seeming distant. I walked over to the window and picked up the knife. I ran my finger over the cool blade, deciding where to strike. My wrist or my neck? I decided my wrist. It all started there, so why not end it there as well. I rested the blade against my wrist and took a deep breath. All of a sudden I heard a crash and I turned around slowly to see Haymitch staggering in, my bolted door, lying on the floor. He glanced at me and saw the knife and the blood. Everywhere. He looked at my clothes. I followed his gaze to take in my surroundings. My usually white sheets were now stained a ruby red. The floor covered in puddles of blood. Blood splattered up the walls. Even a bloody handprint remained on the window. I had left my mark. He looked at me. His eye full of pity and disappointment. He walked over to me and took the knife from my hands. I was too weak to resist.
"Oh Katniss, what have you done?"
"I just wanted to end the suffering" I whispered, my voice hoarse. I felt myself collapse against Haymitch as he guided me to the floor. I leaned against him, he stroked my hair and whispered soothing words into my ears. This wasn't his job. Peeta, Gale, Mother, Prim or even Cinna should have been here, but they weren't. All I had was Haymitch. I felt my eyes close and wondered if this was what it felt to die. But deep down, I knew I was already dead, inside. No one could bring me back except maybe Prim or Peeta, but none of them were coming back. Not my little duck, my sweet, innocent Prim. Not my loving, boy with the bread. They weren't coming back. At some point I blacked out and woke up in a room. I forced my eyes open but shut them again immediately as the light was too bright. I slowly opened them again, and waited for them to adjust. Where was I? I looked down at my wrist to see bandages, wires and machines all hooked up to me. Not the hospital. This was the last place I wanted to be. I wanted to be dead. To be with my father and Prim. But instead, they decided to let me suffer. In a world where I was useless, unwanted, broken and dead in most ways. I turned my head to see a hunched figure I assumed to be Haymitch, but when I looked closer, I gasped at who I saw. It couldn't be. It wasn't. I managed to force out a whisper of their name.
"Peeta…"