Woo, another two reviews! Thank you all, it really made my day. :) I decided to take a faster pace. I hope this wasn't too rushed or sudden. Thanks again for the reviews, and dig in.

We won't let them change

How we feel in our hearts

We're not gonna let them control us

We won't let them shove

All their thoughts in our heads

And we'll never be like them.

Chapter 3

"Katniss! Lunch!"

I rub my eyes and untangle the sheets around my body. I was running in my dream. I was afraid of something, but I can't remember what exactly that was. I had a lot to be afraid of. As I was running, the world started shrinking around me, closing in. I ran faster, but the more I ran, the more trapped I became. The surroundings shift in a coal mine. Suddenly, I heard a mockingjay singing. I lifted up my hand, and it settled on it. It looked at me, and its eyes were strangely intelligent. As I tried to decipher the tune it was singing, the eyes of the bird became Rue's brown. And the tune it was singing started sounding like a slow version of Rue's four-note whistle. Although it seemed eerie, I wasn't afraid of it. I always imagined Rue as a mockingjay, free and lovely. But the peace hadn't last long. The mockingjay, Rue, stopped abruptly. It let out a high pitched shriek and took off. The world shook and rumbled above me, and the ceiling came rushing down. I didn't even have time to scream.

I get up and face the cracked glass of the mirror. At first I stand there dumbly, not recognizing my reflection. The eyes of the girl were glazed and accompanied with dark purple rings. The dark brown strands fell in clumps on her sunken, unhealthy face. Even her lips seemed to lose color. I break the stare. I don't want to look at what I became anymore.

I think of Peeta, groomed and handsome, and then me, disheveled and dirty. I feel ashamed for a moment, and then wave off myself. Why does it matter how I look? Why would Peeta mind? He probably doesn't even see me as a woman anymore. And to tell the truth, I don't look like one, either. I'll bother about how I look when I find someone who cares. I do try to comb the greasy clumps anyway. But I would have to wash my hair to make any real progress, but that is a way to big of a hassle, so I just leave my hair be. I feel bad again as I remember how Peeta held me to sleep, and carried me up to bed the other day. But I dismissed it; it was a mercy act. Just like washing Haymitch on that train to the Capitol.

Where is Haymitch? I haven't seen him in forever.

Memories flood my brain again, but I ignore them as much as I can. I don't want to think about him now.

I descend the stairs as quickly as my numb limbs could manage. Even the slightest walk left me fatigued, so I fling myself into the chair gratefully. I blink around until I realize what's different. Peeta isn't here.

"Where's Peeta?" I croak at Greasy Sae and bite my tongue. Drat my mindlessness. My throat is raw of screaming at Peeta, and I feel embarrassed before I can stop myself.

"He's not coming today" She said with a peculiar tone I didn't bother to figure out.

I shrug, but in reality, I wasn't indifferent to it. I wonder what made him drop out of lunch the first time since my staying here at District 12. Most likely the episode yesterday. Or was it the day before yesterday? I don't know. Nevertheless, I know now the kissing and the hugging was pure benevolence. I bet he didn't come today so he wouldn't have to pretend to love this disgusting crazed girl. I eat the meat and rice Sae made me today to show how much I don't care. But I cared. In fact, I cared so much I felt the need to cry over myself again. And in my heart, I hoped it was something else. Peeta is too good to do this to me. Or is he? I don't deserve him to be good to me. When he was hijacked and confused, I was mad at him. Why didn't I try to help him out? I even hated him for not thinking good of me anymore. And he must know it. I finish the meal in usual silence. Greasy Sae waits patiently for me to step away so she can wash the plate. I hear her talking about something, but I mute it out. When I finish lunch, I walk past Greasy Sae like she's not even there, and I feel a bit guilty doing so. But she must be used to it by now. I make my way back to my room and sink into bed. I don't feel like thinking or sleeping. I just sit there and think about what I am going to do. Because of how bored I am, I stand up and shove the curtains of my mirror aside. The room shines with sunlight. What month is it? The sunlight is bright and warm, so I guess April. I stood there, letting the light ease my body, and take the tension away. I didn't realize how much I missed the light of the day. I open the window eagerly, and a gust of air blows into my face. I sit on the window sill and bathe in the sun until I doze off.

I dream of the Meadow. It was full with bright primrose flowers. I settled on a patch of it and just gazed at the clear blue sky. It was the first dream without nightmares I had ever had in a long, long while.

As I break off my doze, I feel refreshed and almost lightheaded. The sun has become uncomfortable on my skin, so I move away, but I don't pull the curtains back again. It feels like this patch of sun is my sanity spot. If I let the darkness take me down, I don't know how fast I'd come back again.

I walk into the bathroom. First I decide to wash my hands so I cool them off a bit, but it felt so good I ended up splashing my whole arms and neck with it. I strip of my clothes and step in the bath, filling it with cold water. The dirt and old skin washed away from my body. I let the water drain away, and then fill the tub again. It was peaceful and repetitive I commanded my brain to observe the steady water slow to keep it busy. Finally, when the water didn't get dirty anymore I close my eyes.

Peeta. Does he hate me? Am I disgusting to him? I recall the optimistic thoughts of continuing my life because he loves me, and because we're alive. It was so much easier to say than do. And now that the moment is over, I'm not so sure about how he isn't changed. Where is he? I need him. It's almost scary how independent I became. But I can't live with my bad thoughts and emotions. I need something to take me away from me. Just a kiss. A kiss was enough to pull me out from the abyss of depression.

I sink underwater and hold my breath, in hopes of driving away Peeta from my mind. It worked, but then I remembered Finnick. I resurfaced with a loud sob that worked its way into tears. Finnick, Finnick, Finnick. I killed Finnick. I killed him with that useless mission to assassinate Snow. And then I haven't even killed him. Every thought of what I was supposed to do drained away when I saw that children on the square. Opening the little silver parachutes that meant gifts of food and medicine. Except they were bombs. Snow told me Coin did that. That he wouldn't kill off a bunch of Capitol children. And now that I think it, it's probably true. I'll never regret killing Coin and not Snow. I'll just regret not killing them both.

I wonder how Annie is doing. Is she keeping sane for her son? New tears escape my eyes. But now there's more then just sadness. It's rage that builds up in my body. Rage that so many families are destroyed, and so many people are dead with grief and turned into madness. Annie was never completely sane; unless when she was with Finnick. And now he's dead. I tried to imagine what I would do when Peeta would be dead. My body trembled with the thought, but it wasn't a hard question. I'd kill myself.

Was the rebellion worth all of this? It must have been. But I don't feel happy or relieved at all. The losses were just too big. It feels like this life I'm living is a war. A war between living on or reliving the past and grieving the dead. There's nothing glorious in life. Except maybe love.

And there I was again. Funny how all of my thoughts came back to Peeta.

I wash my hair until it feels clean, and its shocks me how neglected I was. I wrap a towel around my body and hair and step out of the foamy bathwater. I look at myself in the small mirror over the sink. I look better, but still nowhere near good.

I let my hair fall from the towel and braid it my usual style. I trudge to the dresser. I pick up a simple green tunic and leather pants, and slip my feet into hunting boots. I was ready to close the closet when I see a gold shine on a red burgundy shirt. I pick the cold metal. My mockingjay pin. In a spur of the moment I pin it on my shirt. But then I rip it off and fling it in a corner, feeling little satisfaction as I do so.

Now that I was clean, I see what the mess my room is. There isn't an object that is whole. Everything was battered, ripped or broken. I change the dirty sheets and replace them with fresh ones.

Then I freeze. I am cleaning. I am in clean clothes, and my hair is neat and braided.

I'm back.

That's when I hear a light knock on the door.

"Yes?" I call out cautiously. There is no answer.

"Who is it?" I say louder. There's only silence.

I make my way to the door slowly and levelly. Why would Greasy Sae need something? It was too early for dinner, and besides, she had better things to do then hang out in my house all day. So the only one who could have knocked was Peeta.

I open the door wide open. At first I couldn't register what was resting on a wall across them. A canvas. It was green. My favorite color. And in the corners were faces. Rue and Cinna and Finnick and Madge. And in the middle was Prim's face. It was smiling, and it looked happy. They were all happy. Prim was so beautiful. So fresh and lovely and alive. And I didn't feel sad, for the first time, thinking of her. Because she will never be dead for me. She will live on in my heart, and the hearts of all that loved her. Along with Rue, Cinna, Finnick, Madge and everyone else. They are all alive in my memories. I pick up the beautiful painting, and spot that Cinna has a streak of gold on his eyelids. I even crack a ghost of a smile.

I carry it back in my room and set it beside the closet, so I can observe it. I see a small inscription in the corner. It was in deep red. I trace the line of the letters with my finger. Peeta. That's what was written. As if I didn't know. Who else would be able to make such a work of art, and who else would have given it to me? There was an inscription even smaller bellow. Turn, it said. So I turned the painting.

And it's my face on it. Painted with sharp lines of red, orange and yellow. My face is crowned with fire.

And there was another message for me under it.

"Fire is catching. And if we burn, you burn with us"