This house is beautiful, and warm, and it all spells out family to me. I wish I had seen it before this all happened, before I watched the boy I love be physically demolished before my eyes. I instinctively take the chair closest to Gale and hold his cold hand. I press my face against it and begin to breath harshly, panting and feeling that lump grow in my throat. I start to let a few tears fall when I see Hazelle burst through the door. I get up and offer her my chair, knowing how it feels to watch your kin slowly be tortured. She takes it, and replicates the movements I have done just moments before. I take a seat in an near by chair and try not to think of the worst just yet. I feel a chill run down my spine as Katniss walks into the door, shaking her boots on the mat. "So this is the girl who my father described." I think as she enters the door way. I instantly feel a pang of jealousy and hurt when I see just how beautiful she really is. I could never compare to her, not in this lifetime, not in the next 3 lifetimes.. I turn to see an expression on her face which clearly spells out dumbfounded before pain and regret start to fill it's place. She almost starts to cry when I hear a scream emerge from her throat. She picks up a vase that lies closely to the door and throws it in my direction. I dodge it, and pick up one of the shattered pieces of glass and hold it up.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I ask in an authoritative tone. As if this was my house, as if it was the love of my life dying. Half of it holds true.
"What do I think I'm doing?" her voice rises in anger. "No, what the hell do you think you're doing? You can't just come in and save the day like you're some kind of hero. He's my best friend, not yours!" She's yelling profanities now. Not only at me, but at her mother. I look over, disgusted by this girls face, when I see him cringe.
"When did this all happen?" I think in a hazy head voice. "How long has it been, it couldn't possibly be-" but it was. A quarter to midnight. Ms. Everdeen's wrapping up her things, and with little Prim bringing me a cup of water. I feel like puking. I'm disgusted on how little help I've been. I hear a voice emerge from the shell of this beautiful boy. Not really audible words, but noises and such. "Muh" he manages to say. I take my place where I sat 3 hours earlier and repeat the motions. I hold up his hand and bring it to my face. This time, they're warmer, and livelier. He's in pain, though. I can see it in the vein that is ever so visible in his wrist. He flexes his muscles and he stays in the same tense position. I feel so bad, I can't help him. Katniss is sitting in the seat I was and she just looks at me. "I'm sorry." she mouths to me. This is apology enough for me, and I nod my head. I then go back to Gale's hand. "Muh" he repeats and I still can't figure out what he's trying to say. Tears fill Katniss's eyes and she takes a deep breath in, and a shaky breath out. "When I would hunt with Gale on Sundays-" she began, "He would always say how he loved your voice. About how you would sing to Posy and the other Hawthorne children when they thought I wouldn't be coming back." Another shaky breath. "I think what he's trying to say is for you to sing to him." I look back at him, my eyes watery and my cheeks flushed at this newly found knowledge. I honestly don't know if I should. My voice has always been a Hawthorne and I thing. I don't really want Katniss to hear me. I see his body spaz again, and I know what I have to do. I take a deep breath in and I imagine the piano tune in my head. "Three four beat counts, and then-" I start to hum the melody and his body relaxes again. I open my mouth, and let out all of my emotion into this verse "How I'm feeling, it doesn't matter. cause you know I'm okay. Instead, I ask myself 'why do you worry?' when you know, you know i'm the same. I know, I know that you don't love me baby. They're trying to take you away from me. Only over my dead body…" I see his body relax again and his brows fall from their once knit position. He opens his mouth, as if to say my name, as if to reply with the next verse. Instead, what his says sets me off into the deep end.
"Katniss" he says. I take this to defensively, and I jump up confounding them both.
"My name's not Katniss!" I say, on the verge of crying once more. "It's not even close!" In reality, it was. It was very similar, but those two names should be unmistakable to the faces they belong to. I then realize it wasn't him saying Katniss to my voice, it was him saying Katniss out of desire. He wanted her, needed her, and most of all loved her. I sprint to the door as Katniss calls out
"Kaelaunie!"
I don't care anymore. They can have each other. I grab the door knob and open the door, hit with the rush of freezing wind. I don't care anymore. At least the coldness of the ice will replace the numb feeling that's settled itself in the pit of my stomach. I run out onto the road, and into the white.