In fact, all I can see is whiteness. If only I knew where it came from.
I remember. I try to. I don t know what s the use. Is it so that I know my last thoughts were about my sister, the person who kept me and my mother alive when she was barely my age?
Katniss, I mouthed. I was going to apologise for not telling her. Because the guilt was rising, rising, rising, even if I didn t realise at first. Only my mother knew I was coming here.
I saw her returning a smile, the sort of smile she d give when she was back from hunting. She d have a gleam, a bounce in a step.
But I knew it was much too enthusiastic, and it was fake.
Fake.
The second emotion was immediately seen; confusion. What was I doing here? I should not be here. This is not safe.
This is no place for a little duck.
And then I hear a bang, as a feeling almost blows my limbs off, as if something was exploding inside of me.
And now whiteness, as the ghost rises out from me and surrounds me.
I shut my eyes, ready for death, as no-one can hurt me now.
I am stuck in this floating, white world. I wonder if this is enough to break her.