I could see it plainly right above me. A star. Something beautiful. A beautiful round white sphere, like the pearl secured in my belt. I was grateful for it as my eyes struggled to stay open, as I tried to keep my head clear. Focus on the star.
I wasn't me after the explosion. Katniss Everdeen didn't exist anymore. She was a piece of dust floating through the air. She was a loud breath on a cold day, wisping into nonexistence. She was finally something uncontrollable, and if I was more awake, I think maybe I would have smiled. Maybe I was smiling, but I couldn't feel my face. But lying by the tree, feeling something warm running down my neck, I thought maybe falling asleep here with my star wouldn't be too bad. I could pretend I was in the woods with Prim or my dad, at the house by the lake, looking up at a sky that for so long felt unreachable and now suddenly was mine if I just could let go.
Then, one thought shot through my head with enough force that I sat up a little. Had I done it? Had Haymitch and I fulfilled our promise? Was he alive? I couldn't fall asleep until I knew he was.
I repeated his name in my head as a tether to consciousness, a way to stay alive.
Peeta. Peeta.
Was he looking at this star with me? I hoped he was, and I hoped he wasn't. Though I knew he would find it beautiful and would find the words to express just what it meant to him, to us, I didn't want him here. Because if he wasn't here, it meant maybe he was still alive. Maybe whatever fate I had called upon myself would spare him, and he would somehow, somehow, be crowned the victor of the 75th annual Hunger Games. Against all odds.
The star was getting closer to me. I realized that I really was dying, but I always imagined death would relax me, ease the tension from my body, but instead, I felt stiff and anxious.
Peeta.
"Katniss," someone groaned behind me. I couldn't turn. It was such a low hiss that I didn't recognize it. Could it be Peeta? Finnick or Beetee? I kept looking at my star, steadily increasing in size above me.
"Get out of here," the person behind me hissed again.
It didn't matter if I needed to leave or not because I knew I couldn't. My body was finally feeling that heavy relaxation that accompanied death. I saw it in my mother's patients back home growing up, Rue's eyes, my own fingers blurry in front of my face. They were the loosest I had ever seen them. I felt too light to be scared.
"Katniss," the voice croaked louder.
The star was huge above me and descending quickly. It reached around me and engulfed me in its embrace.
Peeta.
I died, I know I did, and felt my body being lifted upwards. To some Heaven? There were some in District 12 that believed in a higher power and an afterlife, and as I rose into the sky, I wondered if maybe it was all true. As I was lifted past the trees, I felt my body go slack and my eyes close.
When I awoke, I felt at peace. Every inch of me was numb, and there wasn't a thought in my head besides how happy I was to have freedom. To finally be out of the arena once and for all. To watch the rest of the life, the Games, go on below me, safe like a Capitol citizen.
I started to sit up but found I couldn't. I tried once more, and realized it wasn't because I was weak or freshly deceased, it's because something was holding me down. A thick strap. My fingers clawed at it, but I couldn't be released. My body felt heavier than ever before. My past fears and anxieties returned to weigh me down to the table I was strapped to.
I wasn't dead. The thought made me almost cry. I was still alive. I could feel the injuries from the blast and Johanna's blade in my arm. Knowing it was pointless, I thrashed against my restraints, as if that would help me escape. My breathing was heavy as I stopped moving, closing my eyes to try and think of what to do next.
I finally focused on the room around me. Johanna Mason was strapped next to me, smirking at me.
"Johanna?" I croaked, my throat burning.
"Didn't take you, either." She snickered.
"What?" I tried to ask. It hurt to speak.
Johanna's smirk didn't leave her face, but she looked at the ceiling. "Haymitch doesn't always get his way."
My voice couldn't form the words, but I kept making the noise anyway. Struggling to speak his name until Johanna sighed.
"He's with them," she finally hissed.
I shook my head, as if to ask, Who's them?
"Don't you get it?" she asked. "He's alive."