Katniss/Peeta, It was quick and I hope that it was painless. I still remember the day I said goodbye to the boy with the bread.
Buriedmypride
I can hear him on the steps, two by two, his heavy frame crashing throughout my house. I can't call out to him, I'm too tired now.
I'd been in the forest, stalking a deer. But I hadn't been the only one. The pack of wild dogs had caught me by surprise and taken me down. They'd gotten a fair bit of me, it seems. I'd struggled home and up the stairs to my bath, determined to wipe myself clean and examine my wounds in more detail.
I'd made it to the tub and run the water, the adrenaline fueling my body as I removed my torn clothing. I didn't look in the mirror – I knew it was bad. I could feel parts of my flesh hanging off of me. My already scarred skin was tattered and torn again.
The dogs had jerked me around like a rag doll.
He must have been delivering his daily loaf of bread. He must have seen the blood in the kitchen.
"Katniss!" His voice was strangled with fear as he called out to me. There was a crash in the kitchen below. My bath water was bloody and I was disgusted with myself. I couldn't reach to drain the tub of the filthy liquid.
Some foolish part of me, when I'd come to clean myself here, had locked the door. He was banging on it now, having followed the trail of blood I likely left everywhere.
"Katniss, open the door. Please," There was panic in his voice now. He jiggled the lock. I wished it to open. I hoped he wouldn't see me like this. I was dizzy. I was tired. "Please," He was pleading with me now, as though I could change this. I struggled to say something – anything, but it came out as a gurgle.
He was kicking at the door now. I could see the wood shattering out of the corner of my eye. When it finally flew open, smacking against the wall, I tried not to let the panic in me rise.
I knew I wasn't going to make it. I knew it in that moment as his knees collapsed at the side of the tub and his hands fluttered over my face.
"Shit, Katniss, shit, I don't... Fuck..." He reached and pulled the plug on the tub, the bloody water draining away and exposing my body to him. I was missing pieces, I think. I heard him call out for help; saw the tears in his eyes as he feathered his fingers over my brow.
He didn't stop calling for help. Not once. Haymitch must have heard him from somewhere beyond my walls as he soon stood in the doorway.
There was no stopping what was coming for me now. My skin was too pale as I lifted my arm, fought to lift it, to caress Peeta's cheek. He was crying heavily now, his words jumbled and confused.
"Peeta," I was barely audible and it only made his body shake harder. I saw Haymitch move forward and grip my boy's shoulder. His face was pale as he looked down at me.
I didn't feel like I was in this body anymore. It was cold. I closed my eyes to rest, felt his hand in my hair. It wasn't quick, but it was painless. It's how I said goodbye to the Boy with the Bread.