Author's note:
Hello! This is my story that I am in the process of writing in my free time. Basically I don't know if anyone will like it or not, it's okay regardless of what you feel. If you stumble upon this, thank you for taking time to consider my work. :) I hope it's okay! I take criticism, so feel free to discuss what you think with me, that's fine. I'm going to try to update a chapter a week. I've already written the first 3 chapters, so at least I know I can promise you guys about 60 document pages (on Word anyway) right off the bat! I have proof read my work, but I'm not perfect. Especially since I'm a biologist who only writes lab reports as a primary form of writing, I may forget things here and there. I swear I'll make changes as I see them! Thanks, have a great time and enjoy! -KJ
"Katniss. You are free to go home now," said Haymitch, my long time mentor. I would call him my friend, but after being a toy of Panem for so long, I do not believe in the word friend anymore.
"Home? What home? It got blown to smithereens a year ago." I spat back.
"Well, I don't care, you're going to a place far away from here, which happens to contain a house that has your ownership. Frankly anything would be better than watching you sit here in a room with no window. Obviously you don't know that a lot of people just fought for your freedom to be alive right now."
"Well to be frank, I'd rather be dead," I retorted.
"That is also too bad, but sometimes we don't get a choice in life," Haymitch says pensively. I considered his comment and sighed.
"Fine. When do we leave?"
"In about an hour. Your prep team is here one last time to make sure you're at least presentable…you know, in case anyone sees you."
"Why does it matter?"
"Because, your trial just ended," Haymitch said through grit teeth. I could tell he was becoming frustrated.
How was I on trial without knowing it? Sitting in this room just seemed like a form of punishment the Capitol thought fitting before eventually killing me. How did I ever come out of this trial alive? Surely I should be dead.
"Come on," Haymitch said while trying to coax me out of my chair. Let's get you dressed. We will discuss this on the train ride. I reluctantly agree and follow him to see my prep team for one last time.
I had a shred of warmth in my heart when I saw my prep team recovering nicely from the horrors that was the great war of Panem. However, knowing that everyone I cared about was dead left me feeling cold and lifeless. My mind flashed to a place I have been trying to avoid for the past several weeks. Peeta. Even though Peeta is still alive, he might as well be dead for the sake of my heart. I thought about what it must have been like to hijack him. I know he was not tortured quietly. The thought of this made me shudder and grow even weaker.
I try to walk on my own after my prep team is finished with me, but I stumble into the door. I was sent in a wheel chair to the train and securely fastened to a seat. Haymitch sits across from me with a bottle of liquor.
"Where'd you find that?" I said nudging my head toward the bottle.
"I snuck it out from the party celebrating the end of your trial." He popped open the lid and drank a very long drink. I was amused by the irony that I was not a part of this party even though it was celebrating my life. I probably would have drained the life of the party anyway. I thought about the last party that I attended. Finnick's wedding. Everyone was so cheerful, if only for a brief while. Gale and I danced and laughed, but it was not true happiness. Now Finnick is gone, and Gale could care less about how I am. What about my own mother? Is she ashamed of her murderous daughter? I wish I was the one that died, not Prim. Prim. The thought of her makes my head spin and hurt. My hatred for everything elevates whenever Prim crosses my mind. I would give my life to get her back and have a second chance at life. I wish I had the strength to snatch Haymitch's bottle from his hands. Maybe back at District 12 I will raid some from his house. Trying to put Prim out of my mind, I change the subject.
"So, I know why I was on trial, but how exactly did I manage to get out of it…alive?" I said.
"Well, there were a lot of people hard at work finding anything we could to get you out of execution. Dr. Aurelius declared you mentally insane, and that was enough support to get you out of any kind of execution. However, I forgot to mention that you'll have to have counseling."
"Counseling?" I said with disgust.
"It sure beats the hell out of death," a drunk Haymitch said. I weighed his words and just managed to shrug.
I began to look out of the window as the train lurched out of the station and Haymitch said, "I wouldn't do that, it might send you into some kind of frenzy or something."
"I can handle it."
"Well, I suppose, but everything is basically turned into rubble. This war beat the shit out of this country."
All I could think about was Peeta's words with Ceasar Flickmann. War hurts both sides, and all we did was destroy each other to let some other species take over and eventually do the same thing. I fixate on a spot on the wall to avoid surfacing such emotions.
"Don't' you want to know what they did with President Coin's body?" Haymitch asked.
"Not particularly, I assume they gave her a huge funeral and made a martyr out of her," I replied, uninterested.
"Actually, no. The government had a quick service for her. I don't even think it was televised. Even though she was the head of the rebellion, most people were unhappy to know that she was going to be the new face of the country."
"Well, what happened to –" I began to choke and could barely say his name. "President Snow?" I finally managed.
"Several rumors were started about Snow's death. After you were taken from the premises, chaos instilled and his body mysteriously showed up later. Some figure he was either trampled by a crowd, or that he even choked on his own laughter."
Astonished, I shook my head and clenched my fist. "I wish I had two arrows. I would have taken out Snow first and then gone back to get Coin."
"What does it matter now? He's dead, they both are. Now we are to move on to a new beginning, or something like that."
Frustrated, I went back to my spot on the wall and stared at it until we arrived back in District 12.
I unlocked the door and found a chair in the sitting room. I sat in it for days without eating or sleeping. I just stared at the wall. Sometimes Haymitch came in and grunted, probably to make sure I was still alive. Greasy Sae came in to cook for me and make sure I moved around every once in a while. Somehow, Prim's cat Buttercup reappeared and every time I stared at him I began to feel hatred and sadness. My heart kept sinking further and further. I continually let myself deteriorate in terms of my physical and mental state. It would take a large miracle to rescue the state of my body.
One morning I was startled by a scraping sound against the house. There was a sign of life here in the void of District 12. I sluggishly arise from my chair and wobble around the house to the window to see if Buttercup was fighting prey. The only thing I could see out the window was dirt flying through the air and the end of a shovel. Curiously, I make my way out the door and around the corner of the house to see a blond haired boy shoveling a hole for a plant. A rose plant. A primrose plant. The boy turned around. Peeta.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I asked in a shocked tone. After all this time, I've been sitting in District 12 alone and he finally has the nerve to show his face? I should just run back in the house, find the sharpest object I can and plunge it through my heart. I await for Peeta's response thinking that it's going to be filled with some bullshit about trying to kill himself and being sent back to this hell-hole.
"I had to wait until the doctor felt I had…improved enough to come back. Though, if I had the choice, I would have chosen to sit with you in your cell during your trial."
The only thing I could think of at the moment was profanity. I could not tell if this is the Peeta that I fell in love with during the Hunger Games, or if this is post hijacked Peeta. I sigh and think about what would happen if I have to live near a Peeta who could never go back to distinguishing between the Capitol's torture and the love that we once had. Tentatively, I thought about questions to ask Peeta which would give me my answer. If I got the wrong answer, I know where I once kept knives. There is a window on the second story of the house I could jump out of, that would be the easiest form of suicide.
"Peeta, why did you come back to District 12?" I curiously ask.
"Someone had to keep a watch on you, and I don't trust Haymitch to completely do the job," he cheerfully replied.
"Shit," I thought. This did not help. He could have said that even after recovering a little bit from the Tracker Jacker torture serum. My heart began to crack, I could feel the blood pounding and slip through the cracks.
"I have Greasy Sae to take care of me," I reply.
"Well, yes, but she only drops in on you from time to time. Katniss, you need full supervision."
"Did the doctor put you up to this?" I retort.
"Well, the doctor thought it was a good idea—" Peeta began.
"I KNEW IT. I SHOULD HAVE NEVER OPENED THE DOOR, MY HEART IS ONLY GOING TO BREAK AGAIN!" I screamed. Oops, that was suppose to be contained on the inside.
"Katniss, I'm not going anywhere. Don't you understand that I'm here to take care of you…for good?"
Hearing this news floored me. Peeta's tone sounded so familiar. However, my heart will not trust this turn of events. I cannot, will not, fall for this again.
"I…I just don't understand why you would come back for a murderer, someone who was the face of everything you were against. Why you came back for someone so…so…broken…" My voice trailed off and tears started streaming down my face.
"Katniss, I thought we've been through this before. You are my life. I don't want anything more than to be able to take care of you and be here by your side for the rest of our existences. I'll do anything to prove to you that I am here for you, for good."
Normally this would make my heart soar and I would jump into Peeta's arms and bury my head into his chest like a small child does to a parent. However, I do the exact opposite. I run back into the house and up the stairs. Instead of going for the window, I go for the bathtub. I wash away all the grime and dead skin while I'm sobbing.
When I'm finished with my bath, I'm still sobbing uncontrollably. I am immediately ashamed of my actions, but crying is the only thing I can do. When I finally pull myself together, I find a simple dress and pull my hair back into its single braid. I look in the mirror to find that even though I am clean, I am still a sight in the mirror. My dress looks two sizes too big for me and my skin is whiter than snow in the winter. The circles underneath my eyes signify the amount of blood pooled and the lack of sleep I have had within the past year. The blood underneath my eyes remind me of the amount of blood shed by the great war of Panem. Then I noticed the stench. I smelled myself and the bathroom to see if the smell was local. I left the room and investigated what the smell could be. I open what was my room upstairs and find the source of the problem. President Snow's rose. I scream and throw the flower into the fire that Greasy Sae made in the morning. I smashed the vase on the ground and ran outside to escape the fumes that were still protruding through the house. I sit on the ground and wrap my arms around my knees. I place my head in them and rock myself back and forth.
A presence next to me reassures me that I'm not alone.
"Even though I'm not going through the exact same thing as you, I still have my problems too. It's okay to be upset. Things are different now than before we entered the Hunger Games. We can get through this, but I don't think that either of us can get through this without the other…" Peeta's voice trailed off and sat staring at the sunset. He didn't put his arms around me or even touch me. He just left me sitting there as my sobs became dry and broken.
"Y-You…You really mean that?" I hesitantly ask.
"Of course Katniss, from the moment I first laid my eyes on you." His eyes had a different look to them. They were not the normal gentle eyes that I remember. Instead, his eyes were determined and almost stern. Instead of pushing the matter, I take his words to heart.
"It might take me a while to—you know, ever be normal again."
"Katniss, no offense, but you were never normal."
Then something happens that truly astonishes me. I start laughing. It hurts my aching body, but at the same time, it feels so good. I laugh a little more at his words. He was absolutely right; I have never been normal.
"Thank you Peeta. I just meant that it will take time to grieve and mourn all that I have lost. I'm just thankful that I haven't lost you as well. I thought that I had lost you, even though you were still alive. I thought I'd never see the same Peeta as before the Hunger Games."
"I'm not the same Peeta as before the Hunger Games. I still have a hard time distinguishing between reality and the torture that the Capitol put me through with the tracker jacker serum. It has taken time to train myself how to recognize when something isn't right. However, after they took you away, something rattled within me. I realized that I was losing you again. It sent me into a spell that took a long time for me to recover. The doctors ran several tests and realized that most of the tracker jacker serum was gone, but there was no way to completely eradicate all of it from my body. I will struggle with this for the rest of my life. However, I noticed that I started to get better when I was around you more often. I still care about you more than air itself, Katniss. I hope you know that and I hope that you can accept it. I fear sometimes that I will turn into that awful person that I was when I was first rescued from the Capitol, however I'm willing to always improve myself to continue to protect you. Now that we're in this…very empty area, I hope we can both work on ourselves and improve our conditions." Peeta's eyes focused on mine intently to see how I had taken his heart-filled speech.
My first instinct was to run. The second was to pin Peeta to the ground and kiss him. I shuddered at the thought of Peeta trying to kill me when he was first rescued from the Capitol. I wondered what would happen if Peeta suddenly spiraled into that mental state again. Then I reflected on many of the good memories Peeta and I shared together. From our very first kiss in the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games for the cameras, to the first time I felt a certain hunger in my core. For the first time in months, my eyelids became heavy with sleep. At first, I didn't know how to process this feeling. Finally I realized that I was exhausted. After suffering from insomnia for the past several months, all I wanted to do was climb into bed with Peeta at my side, holding me and caressing my face.
I lifted up my head and said, "I am so exhausted. I haven't felt this tired in months." I wanted to express my gratitude of Peeta's presence, however I could not form any cognitive thought as my eyelids drooped lower and lower.
"I'll help get you into bed," Peeta said while standing up and dusting the dirt off of his clothes.
"Can you make sure the room doesn't smell like President Snow's roses first? I threw them out, but the stench spread throughout the whole house."
"How about we just go over to my house instead? I have a warm bed with your name on it." Peeta smiled and stared at me; this time his gaze held the soft eyes that I so craved throughout the past year.
"Just as long as we get there quickly, otherwise I'm going to sleep right in this very spot," I say sheepishly. Peeta picks me up in his arms—his strength has dramatically deteriorated, but still manages to carry me the distance to his house and safely into his bed.
The last thing I murmur as he peels my fingers from his shirt is, "Stay with me tonight Peeta?"
"Always," he whispers into my ear. For the first time in months I sleep free of nightmares.