She was in the Games. The terrain was unfamiliar, and she didn't see any tributes that she knew. It had to be a new game, then, a whole new round of torture.
The minute was up. Tributes from all districts dashed for the Cornucopia. She got there first. No bows this time, so she grabbed a long hunting knife.
"Give it." A big tribute, probably older than she was, loomed over her. Katniss realized that he wanted the knife. Before either of them knew it, she'd sunk it hilt-deep into his chest, right where his heart was.
His gaped, barely registering what was happening before she removed the blade and he slumped to the ground, lifeless. She grabbed a backpack full of food and ran off into a tall-grassed field in the direction opposite everyone else.
A few hours passed with no change of scenery, only increasing heat. Her mind was fuzzy, and she didn't feel herself. Had she directly killed anyone in previous games? She didn't think she had, but couldn't quite recall. What number year was this? Was Snow still president? Was her family okay?
Katniss started to notice a high pitched buzzing, but assumed it was the flies that had been bothering her all day. She stopped, though, when she heard rustling of the tall grass nearby. It was over her head, so she couldn't see what was making the noises.
"Boo." A girl, smaller than her, jumped out of the grass. She was covered in soot, but Katniss's mind shut down right then. There was only one command: Kill.
Fingers, still covered in dried blood, clutched the girl around the throat and pressed her to the ground. She tightened her grip and held it until she was positive the other tribute wouldn't stand again. Getting up, she walked away from the body and smiled at the sound of the cannon.
You are a mindless, heartless killer. What has happened, Katniss, to drive you so insane? What has happened, Katniss, to make you relish in death? Why, Katniss, are you doing this? Do you even know, Katniss, the name of the girl you just killed? Think, Katniss, and you'll remember her. I'm sure, Katniss, that you'll regret everything when you find yourself.
She swatted at the flies around her, looking for a cool place to rest and find water. She'd been walking for a while, and- come to think of it, where was she? Was the Corunocopia over there, or had she been facing that way?
Katniss, Katniss, Katniss. You really don't remember? How could you kill her and still go on? How could you kill anyone and still go on? This isn't like you, Katniss.
She found a small creek running through the tall grass and followed it downstream, hoping it flowed into a bigger water body. The grass was getting taller and thicker, almost like thin trees now.
"You! You're the tribute from District 13, aren't you?" A young boy ran upstream, his face eager. "I'm so excited! This is the first time your district has participated in the games, and it's really neat. I'm Leeroy! Who are you?" His eyes were bright.
"I'm the last thing you'll ever see." Her voice was dark and scratchy. Leeroy gave a questioning look before the hunting knife slashed his throat open. Blood covered Katniss as he fell backwards, and she shoved the knife back in her pack.
Katniss. Remember yourself. Remember your family. Remember the great things you've done. Remember the revolution. Do not let them get to you. Do not let them win.
She collapsed near the water shortly after, very tired and smelling like blood. Her last coherent thought was to camouflage herself, which didn't happen.
Katniss, wake up. It's another day, and you have to get moving. You have to find yourself today.
She ate some of the meat in the pack- rabbit, perhaps? Without bothering about purification, she drank a good amount of water from the stream. Before she left, she washed off her knife and hands, then organized her pack.
It was much cooler the second day, which may have been because there was none of the tall grass, only huge trees and criss-crossing streams everywhere. The land was slowly declining in altitude, dipping into a low valley. The faint rush of water grew louder as the trees grew bigger and became a more frequent occurrence.
At the base of the valley was a huge river, engorged from all the little creeks fueling it. There was a small, stone bridge that crossed it, leading to an almost-solid wall of trees. Quickly, in case it collapsed, she ran across it to see if there was a path.
It was impossible to move through the massive, numerous trees. When she turned back, there were trees there, too.
This is your punishment, Katniss. You are a murder, Katniss. How does it feel, Katniss? You're going to die, Katniss.
"No!" Her voice held no echo; the trees consumed the sound. There was no one to hear her. Broken and defeated, she slumped to the ground in the small space she had.
Your mind is fuzzy, isn't it, Katniss? Think hard. Think.
Thinking was all she could do. She thought of the last two days, only now realizing what she'd done.
"I'm a murderer." These were the words that the trees didn't absorb, these words that rang so clearly through her heart and mind.
Yes. You killed three people. And two of them, those last two represent something. Think of their faces, Katniss.
The answer came to her quick as day. The girl, the little girl tribute. Her face…
"I killed….my own sister." There was no emotion in the words anymore.
And the boy. Who is he to you? Who else have you hurt?
"The boy…..Peeta. I killed the boy with the bread." It seemed that the space around her expanded, just enough for her to lay down.
Go to sleep, Katniss. Close your eyes and die.