I look out onto the city, nothing is protecting me here. My mother away, Gale away, Peeta away, hell even Haymitch who is right across the street is so far away that I don't know what will happen to him.
Do I care?
I don't think I do, cause now isn't the time to wonder about others. After everything is said and done this is about me. Finally I have a moment to consider what I want and I think about others. What my mother is going through and what she will go through when she hears about my death afterwards? What Gale will do in District 2, if he will fight or accept my choice? What about Peeta, hijacked will he think I betrayed him forever? Or will he see what I did as freedom and follow me?
I think about The Hanging Tree and wonder if it was real or just a story. I would like to think its real, cause then this would be simpler, not easier but a more simple choice to make. If I knew that someone else had done what I was thinking then maybe I wouldn't feel so bad.
The air is warm but the wind is fierce. I think about the Tribute form District 1 that I killed. It feels like that was a lifetime ago, but as I can feel the wind around me, challenging me to jump off the roof I can see his face in my dreams. That was the first person that I killed. Me. Not the Capitol. Not the Rebels. But Soldier Katniss Everdeen. I vomit on the roof, I bend down to my knees and vomit everything and more. I don't have anything left to give. I am not needed. I was the Mockingjay, I was a Tribute, I was a Victor, I was loved by not one, but 2 men who could take care of me.
Not anymore. I have nothing. Prim is gone and as much as I want to blame someone else, I can only blame myself.
Berries, Nightlock, Berries, Nightlock. The 74th Hunger Games, I wish I had seen what my actions would have caused, if I had the slightest idea about this pain I would have eaten those berries the second I saw them. Peeta should have been the Victor, then no Quarter Quell for the Victors, no war, no Rebellion, no Mockingjay. Just silent death for me. My mother and Prim would be fine with Gale in District 12, and Peeta would have been good to them. But the only thing that stopped that future is me. My stupid idea that I needed to live.
Well, not anymore. I'm sorry Mom, I'm sorry Haymitch, I'm sorry Gale, I'm sorry Prim, and I am sorry Peeta. I would ask you all for forgiveness if I thought that any of you would grant it. But you would all tell me to be strong and fight it. But I can't and I don't want to anymore. The Mockingjay is dead…and so am I.
I spread my arms to the sun and for a brief moment there is stillness, like I am being welcomed and I fall off the roof into darkness.