This story was based on one of my true Nightmares, so don't go telling me it's not scary! xP Anyway, you know I did not create these characters and they Belong to Suzanne Collins. The story, though, was created by my own wicked brain in an attempt to scare me away from my partner.

It is dark. I know my eyes are open, because I can feel how they move, searching for any spot of light that may help them realize where I am. But there is nothing I can see. I only listen to you, panting as if you were hurt. I thought the games were over, but this must be some new kind of torture, one created to make us repent the deaths of all the other tributes.

As your grunts and pants grow louder, start running. I have to get to you; I must make sure you are safe. I don't even know where I'm going; don't know where I came from. I just know I need to be with you, and then everything will be all right. I run until I run out of breath, but I still can't see you and now you start screaming, screaming my name in anguish and desperation. I run faster, I don't even feel the ground, but it's not enough, not good enough…

Then it falls on me. Something massive, stopping every movement of my body yet invisible except for a faint shimmer in the light. There is light.

Suddenly, I am in the middle of a dimly lit room, and realize I should not have run. I try to close my eyes, but even those tiny muscles cannot move. I am forced to watch as you writhe in pleasure under a tall man with a muscular body and brown hair. Your bodies fit perfectly, and the sight of it is terrifying, but it also makes an immense anger boil inside of me. I cannot bear it anymore, but I have to. I realize you were calling for him, not me. I realize a lot of things: the cold stares you give me while on this trip, the way you always seem angry at me, the disdain you display when I touch you, the way your eyes have not shined the way they did when I woke up in the arena. I realize how I am not good enough, not strong enough.

And then, you both stay still. He wakes up and disappears, but you are not moving. I dare not call out to you, but I have to know why. Or maybe not why, but a lot more questions: Why, when, how? I want to know, but I know I will not be able to bear the answer being spat in my face. I am angry; I cannot bear the grief so I turn it to anger. You did this: I was ready to die because you made me think it would mean something. I forgot everything about my family, my own goals and my own desires. I just thought of you, and you tricked me. You are the monster.

I suddenly realise I am moving, my pace steady and my breathing heavy. I walk until I reach your sleeping figure, and am not even moved by how peaceful you seem to be. I only want to make you feel the way I feel now, but I can't find a way harmful enough. That's when you open your eyes and smile. The last thing I see before all goes dark is your bright face filled with love for me, and my own hands ripping off the light that I was seeking just a moment ago. It was there, and I wanted to keep it close to me forever.

I am now at your funeral. I know because everyone is sad. If it were me, not so many people would be mourning, not so many flowers would be there. They are my favorite flowers. Strangely, the scene is beautiful. People are dressed in black, but no one seems to be hungry anymore. The sun is setting, and the sky takes the many shades of orange, purple and blue that make the sunset so mysterious, sad and wonderful at the same time. I sigh and feel relieved. I will never se you again. Not ever. Not even a single time. What kind of monster am I?

Katniss. What have I done?

KATNISS!

KATNISS, KATNISS, KATNISS!

Oh God, please let her be safe.

KATNISS!

Please, I barely told her I loved her. KATNISS! What have I done? KATNISS!