It's been a long day, and a pretty boring one. Mom just came back, which took all of her guts to bring herself back here. I've just been watching TV and an occasional trip to the kitchen to fix something up. As I plop back into the couch, I notice that my house has been lonely. Other than an occasional picture of my family, or Prim, nothing's reining my house as of the moment. I've just found out about the stack of pictures in the attic, filled with our old memories. I decided I'd collect all my courage and sweep through them. I take one final glimpse of the odd looking living room, no decorations, and I decide to go up to the attic. The attic is a pretty good place. No key, which means no one will go in if you don't want anyone to bother you, and it's a filled space, so if you decide to yell or cry, no one will hear you.
I make my way in, and a cough escapes my lips. It's very dusty up here, as I don't go up here other than to take something I just threw up here. I decide to get the boxes of photos and rig them downstairs, because it's a little too dusty up here to work. The first box I come across has Katniss wrote on it, clearly stating that their mine, and no one's allowed to touch them, besides me. The next one says friends and family, probably pictures I don't want to see because they will be haunting. I still pick it up anyways. The last one says frames, which I really need, and housewarming gifts. I stack them over my hands and step down the stairs. Buttercup comes and brushes against my feet, making me move to the side. "Quit it." I warn the cat, and he still continues. He follows me down the steps, and I pour the contents of the Katniss box out. There are knick knacks too, and a bit of pictures.
A family picture we needed, me at 6 years old, wearing a green dress with a bow, Prim is two years old here, in mom's arms. Dad was still with us, looking the same way I remembered him as. I put the picture face down, unsure if I should still continue, and I do.
Then my heart sinks down to my stomach because of a picture of me and my sister. I've been missing her too much, from her smile to her light hair, it is hard. The bony girl I used to see stands still in the picture, her eyes pained of hunger, and her mind dizzy with thoughts. Though still keeps on a smile. It's painful to remember her, but it feels well to imagine her. I put the picture down on the delicate carpet, and look after the next.
The next one is a real piece, one of the failed prototypes I've made to copy one of my father's bows. It is really mediocre, a bent piece of wood here, the twine tied in the wrong place, but it was my first. I clutch it close to my heart, remembering all those days we've spent with each other; teaching me how to swim, and teaching me basics on hunting. Tears start falling, and now no one's there for comfort. I lay the bow down on the floor, sitting beside all the other memoirs of mine.
The next one doesn't seem like a surprise, it's Gale.
He's smiling, just like the one on the locket, though this is a bigger picture. His dark hair falls down on his face, his grey eyes look like he's been seeing something happy the whole day. He smiles as if he's seen the happiest thing on earth. He looks dashing in the picture, resembling so much of me. Remembering him is also pain, seeing that he left me without a word, going to district 2. I feel a twinge of anger burning deep inside me, leaving without a word, no farewell, neither a call or letter have I received.
As I begin to think that I want to tear the picture into pieces, I let it slide out of my hand, onto the plush flooring. It's the only memory I have of him left, better make the most of it.
I look at the box, and it's full of everything else in between. The thing that blows me off is my pin, encased in a small handkerchief, placed ever so poised on the corner of the box. Clearly, my mother must've done this. I open it gingerly, feeling the cold gold rub against my fingers. It still is the same design, never changed, though a little dusty. I blow off the dust, and clutch it between my fingers.
A memory of Madge, one of my friends, whom I lost during district 12's unfortunate demise. I miss her too, though we don't really talk that often, nevertheless, my friend. I wrap it back into its respective place, and tuck it into the box.
"Too much," I mutter to myself, finally letting out a word or two. All these memories of before, why did I even bother to open them up? Why?
All my memories, sprawled up on the floor.
But something catches my eye, sitting on the coffee table, is a letter all the way from Annie. Annie lives back in 4, with her son. She promised me to mail me a picture of her son, named Finnick. I find it sweet to name him after Finnick, it is just right. I rip open the envelope, and a smile comes out of my lips. It's him, looks like a miniature of his father. His ginger hair, eyes green as the sea, a small smile on his lips.
He looks too adorable.
But when I turn to the memories of mine, it turns out that I collapse on the floor.
"It's all too much." I whisper to the floor. The waterworks start up, flooding my eyes with tears that barely let me see a thing. All of them on the ground.
I pick up each of them, and bring them close to my heart. "All of you," I tell the items, "I love you all."
The tears still keep on coming, as I fall into the couch. "This," I look at everything in my arms. "All of you," I look, but Gale's picture falls on the ground. I leave it there, not even caring where it goes. "Primrose," I tell her picture, "Hey Prim," I smile as if I'm talking to her, "I miss you, you know that?" I tell the paper, brushing her hair through the picture. A tear falls on the picture, and then more follow it. The sight of her just makes me want to go ahead and die, so I would join her, but I'm sure that's what she would never want me to do. "I wish you were here," I smile, tears continuing their flow down my cheeks. "But," I stutter. "You're dead!" I yell at it, throwing everything to the ground again. "You all are gone!" I yell at the things. "You're no longer here!" I scream to the ground.
"Gone," I fall into the pile. "No longer here for me." I continue sobbing. My cries don't stop. "I'm here," I hear the melodic tone fly through my ears. "Why are you here?" I spit at him looking away, trying to hide everything, but I'm still too shaky to hide it all. "Just checking, what happened?" He sounds concerned, looking around the cluttered mess I've made. "You wouldn't understand," I angrily shoot at him. "And why wouldn't I?" He scoffs. "Because you can't," I hold a scowl. "You would never know." Of course he knows about hardships, but he wouldn't have to endure as much as I've had to. He comes up beside me and collects me from the ground, laying me on the couch. "Tell me what happened," He looks at my grey eyes, his blue eyes piercing through me. "It's just that," I stammer "It's too hard!" I yelp, firing myself into his chest. He trails his fingers across my hair. "Sssh, We'll pull through," Peeta comforts me, as I drench his shirt with my tears. "Remember, we're a team. We've gone through far enough and endured through so much, and look at us now." His words target me, "I mean, sure we're not perfect, but I bet we managed." He winks. Sure, he's always the one here. I let out a laugh, and he laughs a bit. "Remember, we're in this together." Were the final words I could hear before he pulls away and comes back with a blanket. "What's that for?" He puts a finger over my mouth and I stop. He tucks me in and leaves. I try to sleep, but thoughts can't stop reining my mind. Before he leaves out the door, I stop him. "Peeta," I whine, and he stops in his track.
"Katniss." He notices that I want him here. He sets me down and I place a kiss on his cheek, feeling that it may be wrong to kiss him on the lips, now what I've shown him today. "Thank you, for everything." I tell him. "No, thank you." He smiles. My eyes seem to be drooping as I fall into sleep. I notice him leave, placing a kiss on my forehead. I fall asleep. Maybe there is something to live for; maybe there is a purpose in life, to make all their deaths count. A smile spreads across my face as I fall asleep.
My dandelion in the spring,
My happiness when there is none,
My open hearted friend, or more,
My comforter,
My lover?
My neighbour,
My Peeta. Who helped me through a lot.
Remember, we're in this together.