Prim POV
I run. Run to that secret lake right at the bottom of meadow he would take me to. Push my way through the concealing bushes. Not caring – scratch that relishing the pain and the relief it gives me. I collapse onto the ground and just hold myself, trying to piece back together what broke in the space of a millisecond. Actually lots of them: when they called his name, when he had to push me away, not even being able to say goodbye.
The only thing I have left of his is the feeling of his lips on mine. Then there's this place, our little secret… actually we have lots of little secrets since we were about thirteen and puberty kicked in.
Katniss would probably shoot him.
Looks like someone's going to do it for her.
I don't cry. Once I fell and cut my knee when we were walking and it hurt so bad I cried. He told me it was the worst sound in the world so I stopped crying.
Birdsong surrounds me. The happy tune fills the air, chirping and chirping and chirping until I can't take it any longer.
"Shut the flip up!"
Nothing deserves to be this happy if he dies.
An image comes to mind of a cute black haired boy, childishly teasing me about my inability to swear. Whilst flicking my blonde braids – just because I don't like it.
"Aww Prim you're so innocent! You do know you won't melt don't you?"
I rebelliously lean in and kiss him on the cheek, lingering for about a second.
"Told you I'm not innocent!"
Hey we were like twelve, thirteen? And we weren't even dating yet! A kiss on the cheek is practically slutty. I smile at the memory before quickly correcting myself.
I have nothing left to smile about.
I need an escape or these emotions and feelings are just going to swallow me whole. Alone. I'm so alone. Rory is gone. Mom is mom. Katniss has Peeta even if she doesn't know it yet. No one is left to give a shit.
I remember another night, non-stop giggling. When we stole a bottle of Haymitch's white liquor and headed down here again. We both managed one sip before spitting it out and declaring it the most disgusting drink known to man and throwing it in a bush.
I go to that same bush and pull out a mostly full bottle of white liquor. Now I relish the burn. It distracts me from worse pains that don't go away after a few sips and definitely don't leave me feeling so, so – giddy? Is that a word? My pains will never simply go away, the only thing I can do is try to forget.
Most of a bottle later - I still don't feel what I need to. I'm so numb. So numb I barely remember what drove me to this. Barely, unfortunately is not good enough. I can't feel, I am half a person, lost what makes me whole. Is my Dad not good enough so they have to take Rory to? What the fuck did I do?
Inspiration suddenly comes to mind. That relief I felt running through the bushes. Relief. Perfect. Instead of insulting the time we had together and forgetting I can relieve the pain. Pain the opposite of numb. Black, the opposite of blond; olive the opposite of snow; dark grey the opposite of almost translucent blue; strong the opposite of weak.
The sharp rock in my hand slices into my hip and I feel it. Relief but so much stronger. I feel pain but pain is good. As long as I feel something. I know this is wrong but everything is wrong. Our world is full of sick, sadistic bastards who use those they deem below themselves for money, power and sex. Relief in any way, shape or form is a godsend so why not fucking enjoy it.
My hand seeks the throbbing cut and comes back scarlet. I curl up into a ball and allow sleep to takeover.
Is it possible that I feel even number than before?
I decided against making this multi-chapter. I want everyone to know that if you ever experience the urge to hurt yourselves please seek help. So Prim is depressed. Hate me if you must but I always thought that there was something going on beneath the surface of Prim. I mean no one can be that perfect! Hope you enjoyed anyways
