Katniss POV

"Peeta, how can you not hate me?"

I'm not too sure Peeta and I will ever be real lovers. It wouldn't be accurate. Johanna and I could've been if I wasn't a user. Gale's just a friend that I couldn't help but infactuate, and maybe that's all I ever really do to Peeta and Johanna too. If I never kissed her, I wouldn't have messed up. But I can't fix it. She's not a fixable person. Me? I'm not a real person. I'm just secrets and lies. I've lost myself.

He looks confused. "What? Katniss, you saved my life. I can't hate you for that."

His hand rests on my back. He's silencing my heart, my brain. He treats me like I'm some fragile thing that's going to break, and I suppose I treat him the same way, but I didn't know who else to go to except Peeta. Being around him is just seeming more and more artificial, because I know it started out as an act but now I'm just disconnected from everything. Johanna isn't gone, I know that. How she looked at me is. We're still bunking in District Thirteen but she hates me again and I can't stop it.

"I'm sorry." I exhale a breath, staring down at my cruel hands that have shot animals and ruined lives. "I just - I'm sorry. I'm all drama and I don't know how you put up with me. Like, after everything it's still hard to know what's real, you know?"

Maybe being with Johanna was just a rebellion, a parody of what I wanted and what I wanted was something real. There's two parts of me, the fake part and the real part. Sometimes I wish I was Johanna. She's sharp and keeps everything locked inside, but I was too desperate to save myself so I screwed everything up with my stupid berry stunt.

"Well I'd like to think that this is real. What we are now."

He leans up to kiss me, but it's not right. It means almost nothing to me. I'm hesitant when his hands creep around my waist and it's not that I don't like him. I just don't know what's real. My face lies. Sometimes I think I love him. Really love him. Other times I don't know. I've kissed him a million times, and only a few I could count were real. I'm the first to pull back and I don't know where I should be or who I should be with. I've kissed Peeta, Gale, and Johanna but every time I kissed her wasn't fake.

"What are we?" I whisper, my voice quieter.

"More than what they want us to be."

How can I call Peeta anything when I lie to him so much? I'm partly not lying if he doesn't know, because he'll never ask and maybe it's over, so I don't tell. No one notices anyway. They only see what's above because who would ever think I'd be anything but indifferent towards Johanna? Nobody.

"Hey. I should go back. You know, If I want to sleep."

"Yeah. If you have any nightmares come to me, okay?" Peeta offers, his smile faint. He strokes my hair with his thumb and pulls the strand away, kissing my cheek tenderly. "Johanna's a nightmare herself around you."

"She's a piece of work." I tease lightly, my smile not really there but I don't think it ever had been. "Like me, I know. We're closer though, I think."

I grab the doorknob and pull it open, tasting Peeta still on my lips. I place a hand to my forehead, throbbing at the edge of my brain. I'm about to collapse on the bed until there's crying and angry whimpers in the bathroom.

"Johanna?"

"Fuck." Her voice is quiet, an angry sigh. "I'll be out. I thought you were with Peeta."

The door's not locked, just cracked.

"I came back. Are you okay in there?"

There's silence, then the sound of something breaking, followed by sharp and punctuated breaths. She sounds hurt and I can't help but push the door open, the blood seeping through the ridgy carpet. She jumps, the glass dropping out of her hand, spattering blood. She wipes her sleeve at her face, like she's been crying too long but acts like it's not a big deal anymore.

"What the hell, Katniss?" She snaps, her voice low, eyebrows dragging down. "I could've been naked when you walked in!"

I chew my lip and study her, her frown deepening as our eyes meet. She's angry but her eyes are rimmed red and she looks like she's trying not to breakdown. She looks broken, drained of so much life and completely unlike herself. Her face is pale and washed out, the pain evident all over. There's shattered glass everywhere, the mirror completely beaten up. I don't understand why she'd hurt herself like this when she's been hurt so much already.

I blink, and my throat catches, steadying my breathing. "Not like I haven't seen you naked before." I say gruffly, my heartbeat heavy. "That's not the problem! Why - why are you hurting yourself?"

I hurt her. I hurt her when I promised I wouldn't leave her, when I was supposed to be different from everybody that left her. I'm just the same as them. I'm not perfect. If it weren't for the games, I would've been ordinary all my life, because people wouldn't have seen me as anything worth glorifying over if I hadn't volunteered and won. But if I had never won I wouldn't have met Johanna or Peeta, and maybe that wouldn't have been such a bad thing.

"I was mad, okay?" Her mouth twists, her voice sharp. "I just punched a mirror. No big deal. We should've avoided them anyway."

She slouches down, her back against the bathroom sink, her clothes drenched and bloody and she looks as worse as she did in the games. She's aching, probably feeling too much. I shouldn't have let her walk away. I grab a wad of toilet paper, pressing it to her thigh, trying to stop the bleeding. I watch as the paper stains red. All we can do is pretend it's not as bad as it is. I know it's not just because of me. It's her past, the cuts a reminder of everyone that's hurt her. That's what it seems like.

"It'll need a bandaid." I whisper, brushing my fingers across her cheek lightly.

She doesn't push me away and maybe it's because she's tired or can't be bothered to lash out anymore. I kiss her. I kiss her like it'll stop the hurting but she pulls away, her eyes downcast. The warmth in them left a long time ago. It'll take a while for the wounds to heal.

"I don't want you to pity me." She huffs, her eyebrows furrowed. "I'm not like Peeta."

"I know. Sorry I kissed you." I say too quickly, my face heated. "I'll get a bandaid. You should wash off."

Johanna listens to me. She washes off and I bandage the cuts, the wave of anger in her fading. She's here with me and she's safe, even though she keeps her face noticeably irritated. I stare at her for a moment and I didn't know her well enough before. I still don't, and I don't know much about her past, but I know her well enough to know she's fighting tears. I'm not leaving her this time.