Note: This chapter contains content involving serious subject matter. Another AN will be at the bottom with resources if you require them and you are always welcome to reach out to me with any questions you may have, or if you just want a friendly bit of love.

"Kat, remember when we went on that trip? The camping one, where I had no idea what I was even doing? It was just after you gave me a chance at being with you and I swear you were still trying to put me through the ringer to make sure I was in it for real. God, I thought we were going to die on that trip. The rain? Do you remember that? How it soaked through our tent and we nearly drowned?

"Or when I tried to light the stove but left the propane on for too long and singed my eyebrows? I thought you were for sure done with me after that – couldn't take me anywhere. But you just laughed and brushed my hair back and it just felt...

"I don't think then you knew how I felt. Bailing out our tent at two in the morning with that damn lantern barely giving light to anything – I watched you kneel at the doorway and sweep the water out with that ridiculous smile on your face and your hair all over. You are so beautiful – do you even see it?"

There's a long sigh and then a pause. I wonder what's coming next and hold my breath tight in my chest.

"When you stopped outside my place afterwards, I didn't want to get out of the truck. I think you knew, maybe, and that's why you kissed me for the first time. Well, it wasn't the first, but I mean woah, it was the first – do you remember?"

Behind the door I nod and press my knuckles into my eyes harder to try to stop the burn of my tears. I choke back a sob, desperate to remain quiet and not make this any worse than it already is.

All of my pills are on the counter, emptied out of their bottles and scattered in a rainbow of colour. I've been staring at them for hours since coming home from my shift tonight.

If I was being honest, I don't quite know what set me off this time. I know I didn't feel the best when I woke up today – it just wasn't right the way I was lagging. All day I lay around the house moving from the couch to the bed to my spot at the kitchen table. That's where Peeta found me when he came home from work, bustling to get dinner together so I wouldn't be late. I managed to take a few bites – the first of the day – before heading to work and getting down to business.

It was going okay until it just wasn't.

Haymitch noticed first, sending me on break and telling me to come back when I wasn't acting like a zombie. It was freezing outside but I barely even noticed.

"Girl, what are you doing? Trying to kill yourself out here?" Haymitch had barked harshly, tugging on my arm. Returning inside I remember seeing the clock and realizing I'd been outside without my jacket in the cold for nearly an hour.

I hadn't even felt it.

But I felt his words.

Maybe I was trying to. Maybe that's what this sucking feeling was.

Nothing was getting better. Tomorrow and the next day, they'd all be the same and I could already feel myself slipping.

I'd noticed it for a while now, my days getting a little less shiny and a little more brittle. I snapped at Prim more than once when she called to check in. Peeta turned a blind eye because he was still so happy that I was wearing the ring he'd promised himself to me with.

Now though it bit into the palm of my hand.

He won't want me after he sees this.

He can't want me at all. I'm a disaster. I can't even get fucking better.

Why can't I get better?

"Katniss?" His voice is broken and I know we've been here before.

Coming home from work I'd gone first to the medicine cabinet in the linen closet. I'd pulled down the first aid box and moved it to my place in the bathroom. I wasn't sure why – it just seemed important that I have it. Next, I'd stepped quietly through our room, grabbing up my pill bottles from the bedside table and praying they would remain silent and not wake him.

I watched him sleep for who knows how long, the crisp air coming in through the propped open window and the pale moonlight making his skin glow.

It must be past dawn now.

How can he ever forgive me?

I look at the rainbow and bite through the skin of my hand trying to keep my breathing steady. I think about what I had been planning.

He would have found me.

He was right in the next room.

It would have destroyed him.

My mind tells me I already have.

"Can you just say something so I – " his words break, "I need to hear your voice. Please."

"I –" I don't have any words.

"Kat, Kat please, open the door," he's frantic again. Like he was when he first realized I'd locked myself in here overnight. The first word I'd spoken in hours has seemed to stir him back into action and he brushes at the other side of the door. "I don't care about anything but you being okay – we're in this together, remember? Whatever you're thinking, it's not real. Please, please, open the door."

Closing my eyes I suck in some air and reach up, my hand shaking as it lands on the lock. The small click of the simple mechanism seems to echo in my head before the handle is turned and I'm pushed forward by the pressure of the door.

There's a hand on mine, closed tightly around my fingers and damp with sweat or something else.

"If you don't want to move, that's okay. We can sit here. Just – can I please just hold your hand here?"

I can't think after that. The tears come thick and heavy, pouring down my face as I realize the hell I've put him through. I've tortured him and dragged him through my muck and my sadness and everything bad that I have.

Somewhere in the haze of my exhausted sobbing I feel his arms wrap around me and pull me to him. I don't know how he got here but he's here and he's warm and I feel like I'll never be warm again and I never want him to let me go.

Not ever.

Before I know it he's wrapped around me, a blanket cocooning us together and he's grasping at my back so fiercely I can feel his fingers making indents in my skin.

I can't stop crying.

I can't do anything.

"Please don't – " I gasp against him.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm here. I'm staying. Always." He responds without me even finishing my question.

I cried myself to sleep.

I can feel it in the sore muscles and the aching bones and the puffy eyes and the raw throat.

Peeta is still wrapped around me, his face in my hair and his leg hooked around mine.

Looking around the room as the sunlight streams through the windows I take stock of what's just happened. On the bedside table I see my pill bottles returned, caps securely fastened and colourful capsules inside.

A heavy weight lands on my chest and Peeta must not be asleep like I'd thought.

"We can't ignore it this time," he whispers and in his words I can tell he's broken. The pain isn't just mine, I've dragged him along with me. I've pulled him into the depths of my suffering and he isn't safe to be there. Not my shining beacon. He's like Hercules drowning in the River of Death.

"I know."

AN: After struggling myself, I understand how suicide can seem to come in almost deceptively. I personally suffer from SAD and a few other variety things which makes the winter season extremely difficult for me.

Please know that you are not alone. Not ever.

If you need help, please reach out to one of these resources, or one in your area depending on accessibility:

Kids Help Phone (Canada)

1-800-668-6868

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (US)

1-800-273-TALK

IMAlive (Online Chat Helpline, resource center, Google it since links aren't allowed)