A/N: I think this chapter is a little boring, but felt like I needed to show what K was going through. What do you think?
It's been four days since I left Gale. Luckily, during the day, I'm busy with my volunteer work at the hospital, so I don't have much time to think about what I did. That's where I am right now, scrubbing dirty plate after dirty plate. I'm grateful to Paylor for at least arranging my service to take place in the cafeteria, rather than the patient wards. I'm not sure I could've dealt with sick and injured patients for a week.
Of course, dealing with my coworkers is another story. The hushed whispers started the minute I walked through the door and haven't let up since. I try to ignore them the best I can, but I'm beginning to lose my patience with these people.
"Can you hand me the detergent, please?" I ask Lyndi, a young brunette who seems to be the ringleader of the gossipers.
She holds the bottle out to me above the metal barrier between our sinks, but continues grasping it as I try to pull it away.
"I heard you killed one of Coin's guards with your bare hands," she says, her eyes wide. "Did you?"
"No." I pull the bottle harder and she lets go.
"Is your own mother really afraid of you?"
"No."
"Is it true you and your cousin had an illegitimate child while you were living in the woods?"
I glare at her. "No," I say with as much vehemence as I can put into a two-letter word.
"That's too bad," she says, turning to the other girls. "I'd sure be willing to have his baby." They all laugh like she's the funniest person in the world.
I fight the urge to spray her with the hose. Instead, I say, "Sorry, you're not his type. For some reason, gangly, catty, and loathsome doesn't really do it for him."
I step to the row of sinks on the other side of the room. I don't bother looking behind me, but by the silence, I'm assuming I struck a nerve. The rest of the day is blissfully quiet. No more inane questions and no more whispering. Perhaps I should've insulted Lyndi earlier.
Once my shift is over, I head back to my mother's house. I really wish I could work around the clock because it's in the evenings when feelings of guilt begin to consume me.
"Katniss?" my mother asks from the kitchen when I open the front door.
"Yes."
"Are you hungry? I've made dinner."
"No." I turn left down the hall, intent on changing out of my uniform and then retreating to the woods, like I do every night.
But as soon as I slide my arms through my hunting jacket, my mother is standing at the doorway to my room.
"Please join me for dinner," she says quietly. "We've barely talked since you've been here."
Sadness makes the wrinkles of her face appear even deeper. She's been trying to work on our relationship ever since I arrived, but I keep pushing her away. I've never relied on her for anything, and I don't need her now. All I need is some time alone in the woods.
"I'm kind of busy," I say, lacing up my boots.
"We've got enough game to feed us for a week."
She walks across the room and reaches for my hands. I tense at her contact.
"I'm worried about you. Are you okay, Katniss?"
Her words cause my head to snap up. I've always been the strong one. The one who can get through anything. The one who kept our family alive when she was weak and incapable.
"Where are you going after fulfilling your service requirement?" she asks.
I pull my hands from hers. "I don't know." I grab my bow from the closet. "I'll be home late," I say walking towards the door, intentionally ignoring her sigh.
As soon as I enter the forest, I take a deep breath and try to relax. These woods are somewhat calming, but they definitely aren't my woods. The trees are different—conifers, not the deciduous maples, oaks, and poplars I'm used to. Plus every surface is green; the ground's littered with ferns, the tree trunks are covered in moss, and even the rocks are coated with feathery green lichen.
Like usual, I stay out as long as I possibly can. But when the sun sinks below the horizon and the fireflies begin flitting in front of me, I know I need to return before twilight turns to night. I walk slowly, my dread increasing with each step because I'm well aware of what's in store for me.
As predicted, tonight is no different than any of the others. Without Gale by my side, I haven't been able to sleep more than a couple hours a night. I wake up screaming and there's no one around to comfort me. Even more disturbing is the fact that my nightmares have changed. While I still have, and will probably forever have visions of indescribable torture inflicted onto me or Peeta at the hands of Snow, Coin, or various muttations, it's the nightmares involving Gale that hurt the most now.
That's the nightmare I had tonight. There were no words or sounds in that dream, just Gale's grief stricken face when he realized I was leaving. I'm still breathing heavily when I hear a sound outside my room. The hall light turns on and I see the shadows of feet in the small gap under the door. I expect my mother to enter the room, but she stays out there, in the hallway. After a few minutes, the light turns off and she disappears.
I take a few deep breaths and try to fall back asleep, but I know it's futile. All I can think of is how much I hate myself for the pain I've caused Gale, especially after everything he did for me. That's what plays through my mind over and over again, as I stare into the blackness for hours.
When the sun finally rises, I crawl out of bed, completely exhausted. I hear my mother in the kitchen and smell a familiar scent, but one that is out of place in this setting. I pad into the kitchen and find her standing in front of the stove. Stepping beside her, I see bacon sizzling in the frying pan next to a pile of scrambled eggs. Bacon is a delicacy—one reserved for the wealthy—and something I've only ever had in the Capitol.
"What's this?" I ask.
"I thought we should have a nice breakfast."
"Why?"
"Because it's your last day of service." After a moment, she quietly adds, "And I don't know when I'll see you again."
The emotion in her voice makes me uncomfortable. As well as her very kind gesture. The bacon must have cost her a week's salary. And the eggs aren't cheap either, although I suspect she was able to trade some of the game I've been bringing home for those.
"Please sit," she says pointing to the small table in her cramped kitchen.
I do as she suggests and allow her to pile eggs and bacon on a plate in front of me. She gives herself a small helping and then sits across from me.
"Where's Gale?" she asks, pushing food around on her plate.
"The Capitol."
"Are you planning on meeting up with him?"
"No."
I stuff a piece of bacon in my mouth so I have an excuse not to elaborate on my answer. The warm, crunchy saltiness is delicious.
She looks up at me. "You've always been best friends, and I was under the impression that maybe something more had developed since he helped you in the arena."
I choke on the bacon. Does she really think I'm going to talk to her about Gale? I've never talked to her about anything. Suddenly, the food doesn't taste quite as good now that I realize she's using it as a way to make me talk.
I take a sip of water.
"I guess I was wrong," she says shrugging her shoulders.
"Yes," I agree, shoving my fork into the eggs.
"So, you'll be leaving tonight then?"
I pause, fork halfway to my mouth. I hadn't planned on leaving. I have no money and the thought of hiking across the country by myself isn't very appealing. Plus I have no supplies—I'd be lucky if I made it a week or two.
"No," I say in response to her question.
Her eyes light up in surprise.
"But soon," I say to make her aware that our living situation is not a long-term solution.
After finishing our awkward breakfast, I quickly shower and head off to the hospital. When I enter the cafeteria, the shift supervisor pulls me aside. He offers me a full-time job, saying he recognizes a good work ethic when he sees it. It's probably more that he appreciates an employee who would rather wash dishes than gossip with coworkers. As much as I don't want to spend any more time with Lyndi or her gang, I know I need the money if I'm ever to leave this place. I reluctantly agree to his offer.
The next six weeks go by uneventfully. I remain antisocial with my co-workers, I avoid my mother as much as possible, and I get very little sleep. My body is becoming haggard—dark circles line my eyes and clothes hang off my wilting figure. But, I've finally saved up enough money to buy a train ticket. Although I've struggled with where to go, I think the answer was always in my heart—the cabin by the pond is the only place for me. Hopefully that is the one place where I'll be able to find a little peace.
My mother walks with me to the train station early in the morning. When I told her my plan, she appeared supportive, but I know she questions my decision. Most people would not choose to live that way, but then again, she knows I'm not most people.
The train whistle blows and I take a step towards the door, but she touches my shoulder.
"I hope you and Gale are able to work through your issues," she says. "You're good for one another—you two remind me of what I had with your father long ago."
The unexpected and causal mention of my father takes me my surprise. I try to turn away to hide the effect her words have on me, but she holds me tight and continues, "I know you're independent, but sometimes it's nice to have someone by your side. To share in the joys and help each other through the difficult times…" Her words drift off and I know she's thinking about my father—what she'll never be able to have again.
I nod and fight off the memories of the joys and difficult times that Gale and I have already shared. But I can't think of those, of him, it's just too painful.
She smiles and wraps her arms around me in a hug. "Eventually you'll realize what you're looking for," she says before letting me go.
Her words confuse me—I'm not looking for anything. I start to ask her what she means, but the whistle blows again, this time as the final warning. I pick up my bag and dart onto the car just before the door closes. I stand there looking out at her as we pull away. Concern etches the lines around her eyes and mouth. It bothers me that she's concerned about me—I haven't seen that since before my father died.
The train trip is uneventful. I spend the entire time in my cabin, not once venturing out to meet the other passengers. When we're finally approaching the District 12 station late on the seventh day of the trip, I open the curtains to see the place I left over a year ago. It looks very different, but is still recognizable.
We pass by the mine and I notice that it's open again, although it seems like significant improvements have been made. The entrance appears more substantial and the elevator is now made of metal, not wood. A string of men stand in line to descend into its depths. But unlike before, these men look happy, content. Like they chose this job to support their families, not that they were forced into it.
Beyond the mine, I can just barely see the houses of the Seam. Most are still in rubble, although it looks like one is being rebuilt.
In town, all of the storefronts have been restored, except for the bakery. I eye the wreckage that remains and remember the family destroyed by the revolution. My boy with the bread. I wonder what he'd be doing right now if he were here. Would he reopen the bakery? Probably. He'd either do that or start painting fulltime. I smile, remembering his stunning creations.
After exiting the train, I move to a road on the outskirts of town to avoid most of the people. I'm not interested in seeing or talking to anyone. When I get to my usual hole in the fence, I slip through and easily make it to the cabin, even in the dimming light.
It's refreshing to be back in my woods. The woods that I know as well as the back of my hand. Inside the cabin, I empty my backpack and sit on the cot, expecting to feel the sense of tranquility I used to have here. But I don't. I scowl as I try to place the emotions running through me. Perhaps it's just exhaustion from my lack of sleep for weeks and the long trip. I curl into a ball and cover myself with the well-worn sleeping bag that we left here, pulling it up to my chin. But I immediately recognize Gale's scent. Groaning, I throw it on the floor before tossing and turning for hours until I eventually fall into a nightmare-riddled sleep.
I'm thankful when the sun finally begins rising and I can go outside. I sit along the bank of the pond and watch the pink sky gradually change to orange and then fade to blue. But even the beauty of nature doesn't shake that annoying feeling that's tugging at me.
I spend the rest of the day hunting and then cooking my catch. The night progresses the same as last night. When the sun's rays land on my face on the second morning in the cabin, I finally place the nagging feeling. It's loneliness. I never thought I needed anyone else, but after a week of seclusion on the train and two nights in the cabin, I'm bored and lonely. Even though I rarely talked to my co-workers or mother, apparently their presence was welcomed.
I groan at my realization. This is going to make a simple life in the woods significantly more difficult. Giving in to my emotions, I decide to head back to the district. Maybe I'll run into Sae. Plus, I have a little extra money and could use a few supplies anyway.
Two hours later, I pass under the hole in the fence and make my way to the Hob. It's no longer a provisional campground for the homeless, but rather back to a marketplace. And it's active. Opposite the Hob is a new wooden structure that looks temporary. I slip around the edge of the building and look through a window. The walls are lined with bunks, each with a small trunk at the foot of the bed. It appears to be a more suitable homeless shelter.
I move to the back of the building and follow the alley, planning to visit the site of my childhood home, but when I'm two houses away, what I see takes my breath away and stops me dead in my tracks.