Disclaimer: I do not own anything! Just trying to add on to the beautiful story writen by: Suzanne Collins.
I have turned into an angry, tired, hateful person. I feel as if I'm mostly tired though. Tired of life. Tired of death. Tired of
everything in between. That's why everyone left me. That's why I'm alone.
If you're wondering where Peeta went, he left. On one of my "bad days", also known as every day, I told him I had never
loved him. I told him I never needed him, I told him I hated him, and I told him to get out of my life. The sad thing is, I
told him all that because he kissed me. He showed me affection, something no one had for a while. What did I do? I
showed him hate. The only people I come in contact with now, are Haymitch and the delivery guy that brings over all the
stuff I need to live. Trust me, I don't order the stuff. I'd much rather die. Someone buys it for me. I don't know who and
honestly, I don't care. Haymitch sobered up after Peeta left. I remember what he said, "Now that the damn boy left,
someone has gotta keep you from smellin'." Clearly, Haymitch's attitude hasn't changed. Although I would never say it
out loud, Haymitch is like a father to me.
The knock on the door cuts off my train of thought. I probably should get out of
bed anyways. Before I head downstairs I take a quick glance in the mirror. I so regret it. My dark hair is all frizzy and
plastered to the left side of my face, my pajama top is hanging off my right shoulder, my eyes have disgusting black
circles around them, my lips are chapped and cracked and worst of all; my skin. I look like a snake shedding. My skin is
peeling in almost every place. Burns, scratches, and scabs turned my "beautiful" tan skin, to a horrid red color. Another
knock reminds me that someone is at the door. The stairs creak as I make my way down. The visitor knocks three more
times.
A man's voice yells, "KATNISS". I stop in my tracks. I know this voice. The voice scares me. I don't want to
answer the door anymore. So I don't. I sit on the third step and stare at the wall ahead of me. The man won't leave. He
just keeps knocking and yelling. The next thing I comprehend is banging against the door that makes my whole house
shake. Big cracks form in the door. I crawl to the living room and hide under a blanket. It may not protect me, but I just
don't want to see anything. Then I hear Haymitch, "boy, what are you doing?" The man worriedly replies, "She won't
open the door, what if she's hurt? You know as well as I do it's possible." That's when I hear Haymitch count to three,
and my door comes down. I peek through the blanket to see the silhouette a young man with broad shoulders, and wavy
hair reaching his eyebrows. He walks over cautiously, while turning on the light, and whispers the tiny word that for some
reason makes my heart melt, "hey." I breath in the scent of his fresh breath while his lips are so close to mine.
"Peeta?"