I'm sitting at the kitchen table in a daze, staring at the emptiness in front of me, when Peeta interrupts my train of thought.
"Annie called earlier while you were in the shower.. said she was just calling to say hi, and see how things were." he pauses, waiting for a response.
I'm trying to think of something to say. My thoughts are too jumbled since Peeta just startled me. He sets a glass of ice water and a cheese bun down in front of me.
"I'll go give her a call." I stand up, and head for the kitchen door, then it dawns on me..
I run through the hall, race up the stairs to the spare bedroom, flinging the door open so hard I think it might fly off it's hinges. I stop and stare at my destination, contemplating on what I should do next. Will this rip the wound back open, or help it heal? After a minute of overthinking, I proceed to the closet. The door protests, only opening after a few good jiggles. I cautiously open it, and quickly decide half open is good enough. The screeching reminds me too much of human screams. Then the stench fills my nostrils, I feel like I am going to pass out.
"You can do this." I tell myself, and I know I can. This is nothing compared to what i've been through in my life. I can't move or even blink though, I just stand there staring at the only thing in the closet. The fine details, too fine for an overnight bag. The smell, a mixture of roses, metal, and ash. I've had enough, maybe I can't do it. I start to back away slowly. I take four steps, then stop.
I haven't touched it since I returned from the Capitol, and I had no good reason to. So why after all these years, am I now? I remind myself, and regain my courage. I hold my breathe before moving forward to avoid another whiff of the stale air.
"You don't have to do this, you know," Peeta is behind me, with his hand on my shoulder. I turn to him, giving him the best fake smile I can. His encouraging grin fades. I know I'm not fooling him, he can read me too well. "But I know you can. I love you, Katniss. If you need anything, i'll be in the kitchen." He kisses my forehead, and heads back down stairs. I'm glad, as much as I love Peeta and his never ending support and loving words, I want to face this alone. I walk over to the window and open it, hoping fresh air will replace the stench. I grab the bag and throw it across the room onto the bed. I sit down next to it, having to reassure myself again, and again. I open it, and sitting right on top, is the Mockingjay suit that Cinna made for me.
It's almost unrecognizable. I'm not sure if its because of the explosion that killed my sister and landed me in the hospital badly burnt, or the tears that I just realized were rolling down my warm cheeks, previously obstructing my vision. I think it's combination of both. I take it out and lay it flat across the bed. I wipe my eyes, then closely observe every little detail. Something I never had the time or patience to do before. How did I so easily over look the beauty and elegance that Cinna so effortlessly created? It could be that I am no longer a child, and more appreciative of things in life, especially when it's all I have left of Cinna. Maybe it's that my life was always in a whirlwind, I never had the time to stop and observe the intricate detail. I see a small bump in the material that doesn't belong, my heart begins to race. I reach in the pocket and reclaim something I believed was gone. I hold it tight to my chest for a moment, then flat on my palm and scrutinize it closely. My still pristine pearl..