I haven't moved in days. I don't know how many it has been exactly; there's no clock in this room and the windows hold none of my attention. The fire's still going; I haven't taken my eyes off of it. I'm tired, I need to sleep, but I can't. I won't.
I get visitors. Everyday people come and go. Most frequently are Gale and Greasy Sae, along with her granddaughter. I don't know who lets them into the house because I certainly don't. Greasy Sae forces food into my mouth while her granddaughter just wanders about, humming to herself. She's off in that 'happy little world of her own' constantly, and I hate her for it. No, it isn't hate, more like envy.
Yes, I envy her because she doesn't have a single care in this world.
Gale comes and sits opposite me. He talks, but I never listen. It's just a faint humming sound now and his face has become so out of focus I can't even remember what it used to look like. Back when I cared. He's tried to shake me, yell at me, to bring me back, but nothing works. I think it's him that keeps the fire going. I know it's him that puts the blanket around me every night. Gale stays for hours and sometimes he even falls asleep here. I don't see why he doesn't just give up, leave me to myself. Someone's probably telling him, maybe even paying him, and everyone else, to stay. I'm sure of it, why else would Greasy Sae come? Certainly not of her own accord, that's for sure. Unless it is, because I was her best customer and she misses her trades.
Yes, that's probably why. Bring the girl back to life and she'll reward you with more meat.
I'm exactly like my mother, I think. This is what happened to her when she lost my father. Except she came back, it took a while, but she came back. I don't think I'll be coming back. I have no reason to. There's no Prim to look after, no mother to hate. No anything.
Just thinking that makes my throat tighten and the tears roll effortlessly down my cheeks. I don't make a sound though. I just sit here in silence and wallow in my own despair.
There have been no visitors today. The day is almost over and the fire's going dim. Where's Gale? I think. Maybe he's finally given up. But there's still a small part of me hoping that he hasn't. The blanket isn't around me anymore; the hairs on my arms are standing up. It's cold, I'm cold, but there's nothing I'm planning to do about that.
Just as that part of me is about to give up, like the rest of me, the smell of freshly baked bread fills the room. It's not just any bread, its cheese bread. My favourite bread. This can't be Greasy Sae, she doesn't bake. She wouldn't waste her money by buying food for a girl who's essentially catatonic, either. She'd save all that cherishing for her granddaughter, because that's who she loves and that's who she takes care of.
Not like me. I don't take care of anyone and I don't love anyone, not anymore. I don't think I can.
I listen as I hear the unfamiliar sound of footsteps entering the house. I usually can't hear Gale's silent hunter tread and am too zoned out to listen to Greasy Say, but I'm alert now.
It's as if this newcomer is purposely taking every attempt to get their presence noticed. I don't flinch as something hard knocks against the wall with a thud, followed by a curse, which is then that I realize just who this visitor is. It's the boy who lost his leg because of the tourniquet I made him in the games with my arrow. With the arrow that ended Cato's life. It's the boy with the bread, who's bringing me bread once more, although this loaf doesn't smell burnt.
It's Peeta Mellark. What's he doing here? I wonder. I'm still staring at the now burnt out fire, but my ears are open. It feels weird, relying on my hunting instincts once again, and I know for a fact I don't like it. I don't want hear his voice, undoubtedly laced with pity and disappointment and hope.
Hope. Yes, there's always hope. Even a small flicker of hope is enough to warm the coldest of hearts on a dark lonely night. Everyone's always hoping.
I want to pretend he isn't here, like I do with Gale. I want to not listen and just stare into the flames, but there's no fire now. Just black ash and burnt wood. In my peripheral vision I see him put down the basket of bread on the table beside me and then go and sit on the sofa opposite. That's Gale's seat. Is Peeta the reason Gale hasn't come? Is he the one paying Greasy Sae to check up on me? He probably is, I know he cares deeply for me, and this wouldn't be the first time he's tried to save my life. The bread when we were kids, soon after my father had perished in Coal Mine explosion, the arena when he lied to Cato and the other Careers, telling me to run from the Tracker Jackers and dooming himself…
All those times I feel as if I've owed him an enormous debt. Except this time I don't. Because I don't want to be saved this time. I have no reason to live, not anymore. I don't owe him anything.
"Hello Katniss." His voice rings clear in my ears. I had forgotten what it sounds like. I don't respond, I don't even know if I can respond. All I know is that we're both sat here, and I have no intention of speaking to him; the following conversation that is bound to ensue will be thoroughly one sided. No effort what so ever shall be put in by me, instead all my effort will be focused on staying indifferent and tuning him out completely.
Oh how I wish was Greasy Sae's granddaughter, able to live in my own world at peace and not have to be bothered by the cruel people of this sick world.
"I baked you some bread." Does he think I'm stupid? I can see it and I can smell it. "It's cheese bread. I remember you said it was your favourite, so…" He trails off. Indeed, it is my favourite. Well, it was. I don't know if it still is. "Can I paint you?"
What did he say? Can I paint you? Can I paint you? What am I, some kind of freak that needs to be preserved so many more along the line can view the picture and laugh at how ridiculous of a human being I am? Sure, if that's the case, then go right ahead and paint me. I don't respond. I'm still staring at the fire, but I'm watching him from the corner of my eye. At first he's watching me, but then his eyes follow my line of sight towards the fire and understanding dawns on his face. "Oh, the fire's gone out. I'll re light it, yes; the flames will be nice and orange, pretty really, very lovely to paint…" I clench my jaw. I don't want to hear him drone on and on about stupid paint and pretty little pictures. I want him to leave. Hands appear in front of the fire place and soon enough a new fire is blazing. The blanket is put around me. Peeta retakes his seat and pulls out a sketch pad. I didn't even know he'd brought a bag.
He chats to me as he paints. This I successfully drown out. It isn't until his voice turns harsh and I realize he isn't talking to me that I start to listen again. "What are you doing here?"
"Delivering things that belong to her." It's Gale's voice, I think. No wonder I didn't hear footsteps. But then again, it's only Peeta's footsteps that I can't ignore. Blasted robotic leg. Something drops onto my lap. I don't have to look down to see what it is, as Gale decides to tell me. "It's your mother's necklace, Katniss. The one your father got her for her birthday. And your sister's hair ribbon." My throat tightens again. Tears fall. They know I can hear them. One of them sighs.
"Well done, Gale. You made her upset."
"Like she wasn't upset already. I told you, we're wasting our time. She isn't coming back." So he has given up on me.
"You don't know that."
"And you don't know that she will." How cute. They quarrel like an old married couple. But Gale's right, I'm not coming back. "The death report said that they're death would have been quick and relatively painless, in case you wanted to know. Goodbye Katniss." I didn't exactly want to know. Maybe he thought it would be a comforting fact for me. It isn't.
Someone sighs again. It was Peeta. He places a kiss on my temple. "Come back, please Katniss. Prove him wrong. I know you can hear me. None of this was your fault; you know that, don't you? No one blames you; remember that. Come back to me, please." He stares at me for a moment and I swallow. The tears have stopped. But I'm not going to respond to him.
Oh Peeta, you have no idea how entirely wrong you are. All of this is my fault.
He leaves, and for a few moments I sit doing nothing. My hands twitch and before I can stop them, they're lifting up the items from my lap. I stare at them but I can't really see them. I don't want to see them. Instead, I want to see the owners of them. I want to see my litter sister Primrose, and my mother. Yes, I even miss my mother.
But there is one way that I'll be able to see them again.
I force my body to stand up. My legs are weak and stiff as they begin the climb up the stairs towards the bathroom, the necklace and ribbon clutched in my hand.
I turn on the taps and watch as the water pours into the tub, filling it. My hand reaches in and then out, testing the temperature. Ice cold. I gasp as I put my feet in and slowly lower myself into a sitting position. I look at the piece of ribbon on the chair and the necklace that hangs next to it. Mother, Prim. I'll see you both soon.
I pick up the razor from the edge of the tub. Am I really going to do this? Yes. Yes I am, because I don't deserve to live. I've killed people; innocent people. I'm a monster. My family is dead because of me. I killed the one person I truly loved. I don't wince as the blade cuts my skin. As much as I hate the sight of blood, I force myself to watch as it digs deeper. Red liquid oozes out, flowing down my hand and through my fingers, dripping into the water below. I do the same with my other wrist and let the razor fall from my grasp. I barely hear it hit the floor before I close my eyes and tip my head back, shutting my mouth and trapping all the air inside. Once submerged, I release the air and let myself sink.
I think back to what Gale said earlier.
Death can be painless.
Cliff hanger you guys! Haha, see you all after my exam :D ~Don't forget to leave me reviews!