Hear me
You got to be out there
You got to be somewhere
Wherever you are, I'm waiting
'Cause there are these nights when I sing myself to sleep
And I'm hoping my dreams bring you close to me
Are you listening?
Hear me, I'm crying out, I'm ready now
Turn my world upside down
Find me; I'm lost inside this crowd
It's getting loud. I need you to see I'm screaming for you to
Please hear me
I sit numbly on the chair in the kitchen. Food is tasteless, but still I shovel porridge down my throat.
I push the bowl away in disgust. Slowly, I get to my feet and wander around the room, my hands clenched in fists, unclenching, clenching. They move up and press into my forehead, run through my hair and then fall back to my sides, clenching, unclenching.
The anthem of Panem that became synonymous with the start of the Hunger Games sounds from the television screen. The Capitol seal appears and glows white. With blurry vision I see pictures of my sister and her crew- Gale, Peeta, Finnick, Boggs, Messalla, Cressida, Castor and Pollux. Just as they did with the tributes who died in the arena.
Clenching, unclenching.
How ironic she managed to survive the Hunger Games but with her death became just another tribute, after all that she's done.
But really, isn't that all we are?
Just pieces in the Capitol's games, I think bitterly, moving back to the table to sit at a chair before I collapse.
President Snow is on screen now. The one thing I do notice is how out of place the pure white rose in his lapel looks. Innocence and purity surrounded by brutality and corruption.
Clenching, unclenching.
"First, I must give my congratulations to our brave and righteous force of Peacekeepers who have managed to rid our country of the menace known as the Mockingjay. Without the lead of this girl, who will the demoralized rebels have to follow and look to? I predict a tide will turn in this war." He continues. "Who was Katniss Everdeen, really? A small girl from a small district with a small talent for a bow and arrow who was big trouble. Not a great thinker, not wise, not a good speaker like her counterpart. She caught the nation's attention because of her antics in the Hunger Games but was merely a face plucked from the rabble of faces. Who was Katniss Everdeen, really? Nothing."
I hurl my bowl at the screen and porridge smears down his puffy face.
"Yes she was!" I scream. "She was something. She was everything! You are nothing! You know nothing, you stupid, stupid, idiotic little man. "
I sink to the floor, clutching my middle to dull the pain. "She was everything…"
Tears pour down my face.
"Hello, Panem." A cool voice says. "My name is Alma Coin, President of District Thirteen and Head of the Rebellion."
I swallow.
"Katniss Everdeen. Here is a girl, who throughout her life has survived unbearable hardships, and still she went on to perform miraculous acts. Katniss, the Mockingjay- our Mockingjay- lived in the Seam, the poorest part of the poorest district in the country. She bravely volunteered to go to the Hunger Games instead of her sister Primrose."
"She managed to keep her lover Peeta alive as well by risking her life for him. She has endured not one, but two arenas and has outwitted the Capitol. With one selfless act she has turned a country of slaves into freedom fighters. Dead or alive, Katniss Everdeen will remain the face of this rebellion. If you ever waver in your resolve, think of the Mockingjay, and in her you will find the strength you need to rid Panem of its oppressors."
"She was everything," I whisper, tears rolling down my cheeks and dripping off the ends of my hair.
Death is natural. The process of life and death; they are equal and opposite and must occur so we can keep going. The problem I have is not that my sister is dead.
It's the fact that she's never coming back.
I swallow again, calming myself down. The tears glittering in my eyes shine like stars but they don't fall.
There's a knock at the door.
I breathe slowly and wipe my face. Composed, I open the door. It's Hazelle.
"Hello, Prim," she says tremulously. "I just wondered whether your mam was in. I thought she might want to…talk."
It occurs to me that she's just lost her eldest son. Rory, Vick and Posy have lost their brother.
"No, she's gone out," I say. "About an hour ago."
That gives me an idea.
"Sorry, Hazelle, but I'm going too. Tell Rory I'm thinking about him?" I say.
When she's left, I get changed quickly into my finest dress. It's the one that I wore to Finnick and Annie's wedding. Scooping Buttercup up into my arms, I ask for a pass to leave the compartment floor from the guard at the door. He kindly grants me access and I walk up to the top floor, sneaking out of the door on the pretence of chasing after my cat as he runs away. The second guard isn't as nice and shouts after me but I ignore him. Running after Buttercup, I feel almost at peace.
My sister loved it here.
I find myself deep in the woods. Strangely, although there are so many ways to die out here, I'm not scared. The fallen leaves crunch under my bare feet. Thinking about it, it probably wasn't the best idea to come out at the end of autumn with no shoes, but I can't go back now. The little porridge I ate proves worthy sustenance and I walk for quite a while before pausing to satisfy my hunger. I find a cluster of bushes with berries on, and I know they're safe because it's the one colour I remember. Blackberries. The tail end of their season. A sharp tang bursts across my tongue.
It wouldn't matter if they were poisonous, though. Death would be sweet relief.
Buttercup is stoically at my side, although sometimes he trails off into the trees to chase a mouse or squirrel. Walking, just walking and walking. Don't look back. Don't look forward. Just keep walking.
Eventually I become weary and sit on a fallen tree for a break. Buttercup purrs in my lap and I stroke him between the ears. Then he pounces on a tiny rodent and looks at me. If he could, I'm sure he'd be smiling. It just makes me feel sick.
I come across another berry bush and pick a few off. These aren't as ripe, they're sharp and tart. Still I press on, walking.
Just walking.
I know I've got to the right place when I spot a chimney poking out of the tree line. This is the little house that Rory and I found when we took refuge here after the bombing. It's about an hour's journey from the Meadow in Twelve, but it's a lovely little place. There's a hearth, broom, poker, and so much for what it is. It's not too far from the lake either. Surrounded by the browns and yellows and oranges and reds it seems so beautiful.
I knock on the door, ever polite, and step inside. The smell of dust and damp hits me, but it's comforting.
Find me; I'm lost inside this crowd
It's getting loud. I need you to see I'm screaming for you to
Please hear me
Come and find me, Katniss. I know you've been here. You told me about it. You and our father, later with Gale. Please.
I need you.
Hear me.
Find me.
I need you.
Slight poetic license because it probably takes longer than a day to walk between the two districts but whatevs. It's for effect. Lyricinos by Kelly Clarkson, Hear Me. Tune. None of this belongs to me, all to Suzanne Collins!