Prim is dead. She was helping wounded Capitol children after the bomb exploded. And that's when the second bomb exploded. It was the silver parachute ones I saw on Beetee's desk. I put it all together too late.
I am breaking- I lost two of my closest friends to Snow. My fists curl tightly and as my nails stab my palms.
Prim. Sweet, innocent Prim. I can still see her eyes filled with pride as she told me Coin herself promoted her. I need to see Prim's soft smile, to hear Finnick's musical laugh one more time.
I can't live like this. The death list of my family and friends are too long. Mom. Dad. My three brothers. My sister. Marge. Tommy. Finnick. Prim. How can I live when I see their faces every night? The tributes I have killed haunt me endlessly, as I wake from one nightmare to another.
Who do I have left? Just Katniss, Peeta, and Connor. But I know they can move on without me.
Quietly, I take one of Katniss's hunting knives from her drawer. No one is here in the compartment; both Katniss and her mother is at the hospital. I sit by the window across from the doorway as I twirl the sharp knife in my hands. The point of the knife lures me in a trance, whispering, "You can be with them. All of them, forever."
Tears begin to spill silently as I think of all I have done. What did I really do? I have been nothing but the Capitol's puppet. Being a victor of the Games is not winning it, but giving up who you are to survive in an empty shell. I remember slitting throats of many people younger than me, desperately trying to reach my family. Every person I killed meant one step closer to home. That's the twisted thought the Capitol implanted in us all. And I regret for bowing down to them.
I don't deserve to live. I am a monster. I rest the tip of the knife at my wrist. Can I really kill myself? I ask. Yes, the voice in my head whispers.
The knife digs deeper, and a drop of blood trickles down my arm. "Johanna! What the hell are you doing?!" I hear a familiar voice shout, and my heart sinks. Connor rushes towards me, snatching the knife from my hands and tossing it across the room.
"No," I say weakly as I try reaching towards the direction of the knife. I need to die. I can't live being me.
Connor grabs both of my shoulders, staring straight into my eyes, frantically searching for something. "Why are you doing this?" He asks in a hushed whisper.
"I can't live like this! Seeing people I killed dead in my nightmares. Watching my family and friends die over and over. I lost it. I lost the game against life."
"Johanna, you're not a monster. You killed people to live, for your freedom. None of us can help it if the Capitol controls us. This is why we're fighting now, why you're fighting." Connor's grip becomes firmer. "You need to live for the people that love you. You'll be alright, okay?"
"Okay," I whisper.
Connor kisses my forehead. "I'll wipe the blood off." He leaves to grab a piece of cloth and bandages. I feel the care in his fingers as he gently places the bandage to my wrist. He notices me watching him, and he stares back, smiling.
I fell for his deep brown eyes, the way they studied me and the way they crinkled when he smiled. He was right,and I was wrong. There is still something to live for- for a better future filled with shining hope.
