The next day, I call my mother to try and make sense of my things. And although she's worried like any mother should be about their daughter having potential feelings for a man twice my age, she doesn't voice her concerns. I don't know if I could handle her anxiety on top of mine.

Instead, she says, "Honey, do you want to know how I fell in love with your father?" I swallow and tell her yes. My mother has never told me the entire story before. Maybe hearing of how two different people, one blonde from merchants, and one dark from the Seam, fell in love, I could make sense of my own situation.

"I saw him around school, but I never really talked to him," she starts off. "I was always with Maysilee and he was always with his friends from the Seam. One day, when I was walking home from school, I heard him sing to some birds. And I swear my heart stopped. Peeta's father had a crush on me at the time, but we were just kids so I thought nothing of it. He kept on trying, though, and I just kept on trying to get close to your father.

"I would see him around town sometimes, and when I did, we always talked and laughed. By the time we were 18, we were good friends. He went to go work in the mines and I helped my parents in our apothecary shop. When I had time, your father and I would go out to the Meadow and he would sing and I would pick flowers and herbs. Those were some of the best times of my life.

"Peeta's father became more forward and after expressing his intentions to my parents, they wanted me to marry him. I was scared out of my mind. I didn't love him and I certainly didn't want to marry him. I found your father in the Meadow and I cried for a good hour and he just held me and sang to me until I stopped. When I finally calmed down and looked in his eyes, something hit me. I just knew that I loved him. I had loved him for so long, but in that moment, I just knew. He was always there for me when I needed him and I was there for him when he was hurt. We couldn't have led more different lives, but we found each other.

"We ended up running away together and getting married. You could imagine how upset my parents and Peeta's father were. We moved into our old home and began a life that we were so unaccustomed to, but it worked. Your father went above and beyond to make me happy, and I tried to do the same. And although I didn't realize it until later, I've loved him since the first time I heard him sing all those years ago."

I stayed quiet after my mother finished her story. They loved each other and they made each other strong. They didn't care what anyone else thought of them, they just wanted to be together. Knowing I was still processing this information, my mother began to talk about pointless things until I was ready to rejoin the conversation.

"Have you heard anything about Peeta?" I ask. My mother seems surprised at my question. I guess I'm kind of surprised myself. I haven't thought about Peeta in a while.

"Haymitch hasn't told you?" she asks. Haymitch? What does Haymitch know?

"You've been talking to Haymitch?"

"After you stopped talking for all of those months, he kept me updated on how you were. We kept in contact. I'm surprised that he didn't tell you. But Peeta. Oh honey, he's here in District Four in the hospital. He's gotten so much better, but he can't go back to District Twelve."

I'm not as upset as I thought I would be. Somehow, this news relieves me and I'm able to breathe easier. No more wondering and no more waiting. I can finally move on. I'm totally calm when I ask my mother why.

"I don't think he can face seeing home again. He's literally lost everything. His family, his memories, they're all gone from him now, and I think he just wants to recover in peace."

My mother and I talk for a little while longer and before we hang up, she tells me, "Just be careful, honey. But if you love him, you should try to go work things out."

I sit a while in the kitchen. It's been so empty without him there and I feel my mind drifting down the road to Haymitch's house. Do I love him? As I stand up to walk to his house, I decide that it can't hurt to find out.

I try to calm my erratic breathing as I grow closer and closer to Haymitch's house. Is he mad at me? Does he even love me? What if I don't love him? Questions buzz around my brain until I tell myself to focus on walking and I can think about these things later.

My heart is thudding in my chest as I walk up Haymitch's porch and stand outside his door. My pulse is so loud, I'm surprised Haymitch can't hear it from inside. I can love, I tell myself over and over. I can love him, and maybe he can love me too. I dare to think back to my dream and the family I had and how much I want it. I want the joy, I want the pain, I want to love.

I force all of the courage and strength I have inside me to my hand as I slowly turn the doorknob and swing open the door. The stench of liquor and something else I can't identify hit me full force as I make my way inside.

"Haymitch?" I call out, trying to find where he is amidst the garbage. I receive no response and begin to wade through a sea of empty bottles and trash. His house is almost unrecognizable at this point. "Haymitch?" I call again as I enter the living room.

There are more bottles in here and the only light comes from a patch of dim sunlight from the dirt-encrusted window. I kick a couple out of my way and pull a face when I see a bug scuttle across the floor. This is disgusting. I'm about to move out of the room and to the stairs, finding nothing but trash, until I see it.

Clutching a half-filled bottle of vodka, Haymitch lies on the floor, seemingly passed out. The only visible part of him is his hand and bottle, which is the thing that caught my attention. My heart swells with pity and care as I make my way toward him. "Haymitch," I say softly as I kneel next to his still frame, pushing the bottles and trash off of his body. He's not holding a knife, so I gently shake his arm. "Haymitch," I say a bit louder this time, but I still receive no response.

I really look at him now. His pale face, his damp hair, his cold skin, his unmoving chest. His unmoving chest?

I can't move. I don't know what to do. I feel my breathing speed up and my heart hammer away.

He's not breathing.

Again, sorry for the uploading error for the last chapter. I hoped you liked this one, though! I've always thought Katniss' mom not telling her about her own story was kind of interesting, since Katniss filled in most of the gaps from Peeta and not her own mother. So, here you go, next chapter up relatively soon. Let me know what you think of this rather... tragic development.