Author's Note: Hey guys! This is a rewrite. I fixed a few grammar and spelling errors and added more on. This takes place after Katniss kills Coin during Mockingjay. Sorry if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes. It's based of Mirror by Ellie Goulding
Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games or the characters. The idea and writing is mine.
She stared blankly into the mirror.
Hoping she'd be transferred into a secret parallel universe on the other side. Where she was alive. Where she was happy.
Instead of a valiant war symbol, there was a broken girl. With battered hair, a face stained with tears and dirt. Clothes ripped and tattered due to the overuse and lack of cleaning.
A girl who needed someone to come in daily to feed her. Otherwise she'd starve to death.
The girl she saw in the reflection couldn't support herself. Even less a whole nation looking to her for guidance.
She didn't want anyone looking to her. She couldn't help them. She can't even fight off her own demons. Demons that haunted during the day and night.
The Girl On Fire was dead.
Maybe not physically. But her soul was dead. She was numb. She had nothing else to live for. Almost everyone close to her heart was dead. They haunted her nightmares questioning her why she didn't save them. She reencountered them in her dreams every night.
Rue. Innocent, caring Rue.
She reminded her so much of her sister Prim. Thrown into the cruel game that would rip away her life for the sick twisted Capitols entertainment. If only she could have saved her. If only it were possible to turn back time and save her.
But she couldn't save her. Her life was ripped away from her. And she couldn't do anything to save her. She was helpless. She could only comfort her so she'd live her last moments on this cruel world with a small bit of peace.
She killed him. She had become a coldblooded murder. She watched as the arrow pierced his throat. As he crumbled lifelessly to the blood stained grass. Her hands were tainted with both their blood.
She couldn't save her. Not even if she tried.
She simply didn't want to kill him. But she had no choice.
He was a victim of the Capitol. Just like her. Just like everyone else.
She gave him mercy. The boy who pursued to murder her. He looked deep into her eyes as his he was ripped apart by the mutts. Begging her to kill him already to rid him or the pain. She gave him mercy. Letting the arrow take away his life, so he wouldn't feel anymore pain. He was in peace now. Never having to feel the pain of war, the nightmares that haunt the survivors of the Games. He was now with his unknown lover.
Oh how she envied them. They now live in the comfort of death. Their souls taken away from this painful life. They now rested in the heavens above together. Like lovers should be, together.
But the end all of them had something in common.
They were all victims. All victims of Snow's twisted mind.
Primrose. Beautiful, innocent Prim.
Dead too soon. Ripped away from her. And there wasn't anything she could do.
Prim's death replayed every night in her dreams. And every time she couldn't reach her time. Every time it was simply to late. She wished it was her that was engulfed in the flames instead of Prim. She had so much to live for. So much potential that would never be reached. She'd never watch her blue eyes glisten with happiness. She would never experience the happiness of a life without the Games.
Screams and shrieks of young children was all that was heard. Moments before bombs were dropped on helpless innocent children. She ran to were the noise was coming from. She witnessed the horror innocent children being burned alive. People's horrified cries could be heard for miles and miles. She tried to run into the flames to try protect her.
"Prim!", she yelled.
"Prim! Please! Prim!", she cried out hopelessly.
Oh. But she was too late. And the most important person was ripped away from her. She couldn't save her.
Each night she woke up with a sweat dripping down her body. Her breathing and heart rate quickening as she remembered her nightmare.
Her hands tainted with her sisters blood. Not because she killed her.
No, simply because she couldn't save her.
Cinnna. The only one who truly understood her.
He created the image of the Girl On Fire. The girl he'd be saddened if he saw how broken and dead inside she was. He was betting on her. He would have wanted to see a strong courageous war hero, the Mockingjay. Not a broken down girl. He risked his life for her. He paid a terrible price. He paid with his life. His last words to her still echo in her mind.
"Remember, girl on fire. I'm still betting on you."
She thought about Cinna often. She recalled how sickened and terrified she'd been when she saw him being attacked by three ruthless Peacekeepers. She knew it had been done on purpose. They waited until she was in the lifting tube to attack him. Where she was unable to help him. She was had to pay for what occurred at the interview.
Her hands were tainted with his blood.
Finnick. He sacrificed himself. It was her fault. Her fault that he'd never known that Annie was expecting his child. It was her fault he'd never get to meet his child. Finnick gave his life for her. He followed her plan. A plan that backfired and she wished she'd never gone through. He sacrificed himself for her.
An innocent child who would grow up without his father all thanks to her. She had taken the joy from the innocent child of ever having a father.
She had taken away the only person who kept Annie sane.
But it was to late. Finnick was ripped away from Annie, from his child. And it was all her fault.
His blood was tainted on her hands.
She lost him. The Capitol took him away from her. They took away the person who truly understood the pain. The only who made the demons in her head vanish. The one who was there to comfort her when the flashbacks of the games were too much. When her dreams became nightmares. He was there for her. But he no longer was by her side. He was no longer there to embrace her when she woke up with tears streaming down her face from the terrors of her dreams.
She remembered when he asked her if she loved him and she sincerely responded, real.
You love me. Real or not real?
Real.
She truthfully loved him. She didn't notice until he was ripped away from her. Until he was no longer by her side and she craved his touch and comfort. Until she craved the kiss on the beach to be deepened. How his touch against her skin felt so right.
Until he returned to Distract 13 with pure hatred toward her. Not wanting to love her, but kill her.
The Capitol took him away from her. They ripped him away from her. They found one of her true weakness. They filled his brain with superficial memories of her, the highjacked him. He now hated her with burning passion. She had nightmares about losing him though she never told him. Now those nightmares became a reality. She'd lost him. She'd lost him forever.
Coriolanus Snow. He deserved to die. He had caused her unbearable pain. He deserved everything that had happened to him. He deserved to rot in hell for the death of many innocent children. Children he used for the pure entertainment for his twisted citizens of the Capital.
But there is one thing he never did to her. He never lied to her. His last words to her echoed in her mind...
"Oh my dear Miss Everdeen. I thought we had agreed not to lie to each other."
He was right. They did agree. They had agreed never to lie to each other.
Alma Coin. She deserved to rot in the depths of hell. She used her to rise to power. She took away the most important thing to her. Her reason to live. Her reason to not become a hollow and lifeless shell. She never once regretted plunging the arrow into her.
Oh, how she remembers Snow's last words to her as she released the arrow. They echoed over and over repeatedly in her mind.
Snow and Coin were both heartless monsters. Both desired to rule Panem with an iron grip. Just one had less flair then the other. But both descendants of the same evil spawn. Heartless killers who weren't bothered by killing innocent children. Both deserved to rot in the depths of hell.
Only difference is one lied to her, the other didn't. She hated them both with such passion it couldn't be explained. Her hate for them was unexplainable, it burned from deep within.
Yet, her hands were tainted with their blood.
She never once regretted their death.
She stared into the mirror. She reached to touch her reflection and her hand left a bloody hand mark. A broken girl stared back at her. Not a brave war hero who represented a rebellion, who represented rebirth.
She didn't win. She survived. If she truly had won the demons in her head wouldn't exist. And she wouldn't be dead inside.
She was broken and she couldn't bare to pick up the pieces.
Not without him.
Indeed she was the girl on fire. But she no longer burned. All that was left was a pile of ashes. The girl on fire had been extinguished.
The Girl On Fire was dead.
I'd really love if you'd reviewed. Should I make it a multi-chapter or leave it as a one shot? I would love to hear your feed back.