Interesting, how the time goes so quickly. It almost numbs the suffering.
I don't know why I moved back to District 4 after the rebellion, with the crushing memories that haunt my broken-up mind. I should've decided to live in District 8 or something. Somewhere where green never appears. Green hurts now far more than red ever did.
But once I was here, I couldn't let myself go. I guess it's good, if I lived somewhere with no green, I might forget.
And the only thing worse than remembering those you love is forgetting them.
I loved Finnick, with all my heart. He took me out of my stupor from the games. I know what he did with the Capitol woman, but I still love him. He was the one that keeps me sane. In a way, he still is.
Now that he's gone, will I stay that way? Will the coming baby—I know it'll be a boy, I know he'll look painfully like Finnick—keep me sane or send me tumbling into a deeper chasm?
Oh, I try. I keep myself. Little Finn helps me. If I didn't have him, I know I would be far worse off. But there are moments when I slip, when I scream, when I remember. Maybe forgetting would be easier. But I can't do that.
I hope Finn can grow up with such a demented mother.
I feel sorry for him.
He's too young for this. Just like I was, when my name was picked. It was so long ago, but still so fresh in my mind.
They come from District 12. Katniss, Peeta, their young daughter Rue. Of course. We can't let the past leave, we have to staple it onto our children; always.
They shouldn't have come. I rail, I scream at them.
"You could've saved Finnick! You were right there and you didn't! Get out! Go away!"
Rue cries.
I shouldn't have shouted. It was wrong of me. Katniss couldn't have saved him. But I was overcome with pain.
I fall into my bed, sobbing, harmonizing with little Rue (who's also too young for this; we all are, really). I hear them comforting their daughter. Finn crawls in with me.
"Mama? Are you okay?" He says, his voice sweet, snuggling closer to my side.
I don't deserve this.
"I'm sorry Finn," I console him. "Mama was just a little tired."
"Okay."
He accepts me for who I am. I wish I could do the same.
They pack their bags the next day. Peeta, ever the diplomat, thanks me for my hospitality. Katniss just glares.
I don't deserve his thanks. It's my fault.
Before they leave, I pull Katniss aside, guilt flooding me like the waves in the are-no. I'm not thinking about that now. It taints everything.
"Please forgive me. Please! It was all my fault, I don't know what came over me, I'm so sorry…"
She smiles slightly. "It's not your fault." She says calmly. "It's the Capitol's fault. I'm sorry I couldn't save Finnick." A light of mischief comes into her eyes. "But by the looks of the boy you've got there, you've got the next Finnick."
Somehow, despite our differences and how wrong it seems, we laugh until our stomachs hurt, until our cheek muscles are burning.
"We'll be back soon," she says.
"I can't wait," I reply sincerely. First time I've felt excited for what feels like forever.
Our children say their goodbyes, and I watch them board the train.
Ironically, the trains they use to take people around Panem are the same trains they used to bring children to the Hunger Games. Even the cushion vinyl is exactly. The. Same.
Tears form in my eyes, and I sink to the floor as the sunset hits the deep green sea.
Life here has been bittersweet.
But mostly bitter.