This is post-Mockingjay, before the Epilogue. Probably a few months after Peeta arrives at District 12.
I don't own anything.
"Are you completely sure?" He asks me for the umpteenth time.
"More sure than anything." I reply smoothly, my voice only trembling a little. Peeta sighs and brings the knife down again; his breath fanning the back of my neck.
"I don't want you to regret this." He murmurs in my ear.
"I just want to be free. No more Mockingjay, no more obligations. No more capitol invading my daily life." He nods, understanding exactly what I mean. My braid used to be a part of me, the Capitol has ruined it. It was now a constant reminder of the games; I have dreams for that. I could deal with one less reminder.
"Could you at least give me that?" I whisper.
"Of course. You should know by now that I'd never deny you anything." My heart flutters but also feels heavier. I know he still feels guilt over what happened in District 13; how he almost strangled me in a blind rage. I think he's scared too; scared that if he comes out of a raging nightmare that he may no longer recognize me as the person he loves.
"I still feel guilt about it every night. I don't want to add another thing to my list if this isn't what you truly want." He explains slowly. I turn around slowly to face him and look straight into his lovely blue eyes.
"I want this." I tell him, my voice no longer wavering. I lean forward and place a light, lingering kiss to his lips. He nods again and makes a motion with his hand for me to turn around. He delicately strokes my hair before completely cutting it off with the blade. It only takes a few strokes for me to feel my hair fall thickly to the ground.
It feels weird, no longer having this weight attached to my head. In harder times it kept me sane, reminding me of what was real but also always reminding me of my obligations to my country. In a mere moment I am no longer the Mockingjay; no longer the girl from before the reaping. I am just Katniss; a girl – no woman - broken beyond repair, with a man just as damaged as herself.
Peeta takes the scissors from our kitchen table and starts cutting into my hair, attempting to get some sort of style going. If anyone in District 12 could do this, it would be my Peeta hands down. I smile to myself. My Peeta. He lightly blows on my neck to get rid of excess hair. I turn to face him.
"How do I look?" I ask him all jokes and coy. He studies my face and hair for a moment.
"Perfect." He tells me. "Would you like to see yourself?" I nod my head quickly, suddenly really excited to see myself. He shyly picks up the mirror and hands it to me.
As I look into my reflection a real smile graces my features; one that causes your eyes to crinkle and make your cheekbones rise an inch. Peeta leans in and rest his head on my shoulder, his hand stroking my hair softly.
"How do you feel?" He asks.
"Human," I reply simply. "for the first time in a long time."
He smiles.