Epilogue
"You will have days where you feel better, and you will have days where you want to die. Both are okay. There is no magical cure. You just need to close your eyes, and trust that the waves will pass, and soon you'll be able to breathe again." -Unknown
It's been 20 years since I arrived in Mockingjay, Maine.
It's strange to think about my life before coming here; it feels like a distant dream. Some days are good - I don't think about it at all. Other days, it comes back to me like a tidal wave of emotions, drowning me in sorrow and anger.
Thankfully those days are very rare.
A lot has changed - actually, almost everything has changed. Some things never change, though.
Peeta is my husband now. We've been married for 18 years. We exchanged vows on the cliff by the lighthouse, surrounded by all our friends and family. We bought the cabin, and we still live there. It's grown since then. We added two rooms, building them with our own two hands - others pitched in and helped too.
Peeta opened a small bakery on Main Street - which has done surprisingly well. He named it Everlark Bakery, a mixture of our two last names. When we married, we took both of each other's last names, so we're Mellark-Everdeens now. I would've willingly given up my last name, but Peeta insisted we keep our own identities and combine them. Which is wonderful, since Grandma and Grandpa only have granddaughters, there would've been no one to carry on the Everdeen family name. He still paints too, and sells them in a shop inside the bakery. I, of course, have my own prized personal collection of them at home.
I still work at the lighthouse. I also keep busy when I'm not there. Mostly, I help at the bakery or tend to the community garden I began around 15 years ago. Having been hungry most of my youth, I don't want anyone else to go hungry if I can help it. I also advocate against child and domestic abuse, giving speeches at colleges and events once in awhile. Peeta also got a very generous inheritance when his mom's father died, and we decided to use most of it to help open a women's safehouse a couple towns over. We gave the donation in the name of my mother, who died four years after I got here. Thankfully, it was peaceful.
She passed in her sleep, in a comfy bed of her own. Peeta's dad became her caretaker, and had moved her in with him once she was well enough to leave the rehabilitation center. She never fully recovered, but she could walk on her own and loved to help him bake. She regained some of her current memory, but was in and out of the past - you never really knew who you'd be talking to. I took trips to visit her a few times a year, and the last time I saw her, she recognized me in an instant, giving me the biggest of hugs.
I'll treasure that memory forever.
Peeta's dad moved here shortly after her death, having a need to be around family. He helps Peeta with the bakery all the time, and has even found a new love. He got married to a woman named Mary about 9 years ago - and she's such a lovely person. They're both as happy as can be.
Prim moved off to New York for college when she graduated High School. She's doing exceptionally well and I couldn't be prouder of her. Her teenage years were rough - she had a rebellion streak, though her grades never slipped. She graduated college, got her master's, and then her doctorate - all with top marks and honors.
She did exactly what she said she wanted to do with her life. She became a doctor, specializing in brain trauma. A few months ago, she got engaged to the older boy down the street, Michael Erving. I love him for her. He's so much like Prim; motivated, caring, and sweet. Seeing the two of them together, you can tell how much they love each other. I'm, of course, going to be the Maid of Honor at their wedding and Peeta's going to be their Best Man.
Gale is doing great. He moved on from that hellhole of a town around 16 years back, enlisting into the military and moving to wherever they'd send him. And I'm not sure how it happened, but he wound up dating Madge - and they got married 14 years ago. They now have two children together. I don't see them often; only about 4 times since I left Panem. But we keep in touch.
Coin is in prison for the rest of his life, and many of his accomplices are still doing time as well. It was never determined what happened to Snow, whether his overdose was intentional, accidental, or a homicide. In any case, I don't care. I hope he's having a great time in Hell.
We've made many new friends over the year, and our family has grown. We have two children now, Matilda and Ethan.
It took me so long to work up the courage to have a child; I wasn't sure I ever would. I was so protective of them already, when they were only just a thought. I was scared something terrible would happen to them, or that I wouldn't be a good enough mother, having been through what I had as a child. But Peeta wanted them so badly. And seeing him with other people's children, such as Finnick and Annie's when we babysat, I knew he'd be an excellent father. It was in his nature. So, before I got too old to even have the possibility of having children, I finally told him I wanted to try. I wanted our family to grow.
We tried for years, all the time, every chance we could get. It got to the point where I thought it was never going to happen - and I yearned. I cried every time the test came back negative, which was way too many times to count. Finally, after so many years of trying, we received a miracle.
My first pregnancy was one of the most difficult experiences of my life. Not in terms of sickness or fatigue; that was expected. I was so afraid I was going to lose her, my miracle baby, so much that I barely left the bed for months. Every time she moved or kicked, however, it set my mind at ease. A few years later, without even really trying, our son was conceived. My pregnancy with him was a little easier, but not by much. Only when I held each of them in my arms did the anxiety wane, there was no room for fear for all the overwhelming joy and relief I felt.
I love them more than life itself.
I can't imagine my life without them.
I teach them survival skills, I take them to the woods and show them the things my father had. The things that saved me and Prim's lives. Life can change in an instant; I want them to be prepared. Of course, that's not an all-the-time thing. I want them to enjoy their youth to its fullest extent. I do everything in my power to give them a childhood opposite of my own - one full of love and support and guidance. They don't know about my past, or where I came from. I'll tell them when they're a little older, in a way that will make them stronger, not scared. Right now, I want them to enjoy life as innocently and carefree as possible.
My daughter is beginning to ask questions, though.
"Momma! Come help!"
I close my notebook - my collection of inner thoughts - to look out at the scene in front of me.
Peeta is sitting on the beach building a sandcastle with our daughter, who's a perfect combination of both of us - she has my dark hair and Peeta's striking blue eyes. Ethan's grey eyes are closed as he's fast asleep on my lap, his curly blond head resting peacefully against my chest.
I place him gently on the blanket next to me and cover him with another one. I have a sandcastle to help build.
Today is a good day.
Peeta and I decided to take a week off of work to do something we've never done since we came to Maine.
We're taking a trip back to Panem.
Though I have many, many good days, the bad days come unexpectedly - and when they do, it feels like the good days will never come again. I stay in bed all day, sleeping the pain away, shutting out the world. It all stands still. I'm tired of making my family and friends worry about me. Peeta suggested we go back and face our demons together. I agreed.
I left the kids in the care of Annie and Finnick; I didn't want them to see me so upset. I also didn't want to take the chance of them getting hurt.
The bakery was torn down; it's now just a parking lot to a grocery store that had been built about ten years ago. Though we knew about it, seeing it is another thing entirely. Peeta doesn't even stop as we pass it, he doesn't even look at it.
The gravel road to the trailer is barely even a road - it's overgrown with trees and grass; the only way I know its there is from pure memory alone. No one passing it would even know there was anything there. Luckily, Peeta rented a big 4- wheel drive to plow through it all.
Once we reach the clearing, I begin crying so hard I can barely get air in. There's nothing here. Nothing at all.
It must have been cleared out a long time ago. There's no trace of the trailer or the many broken automobiles that surrounded it. Just like Snow, the cause of my nightmares has been erased from existence. Instead, a green field full of wildflowers blow in the wind, peacefully, and I can almost hear them whisper, 'Everything's okay now, child. Put your mind at ease.'
Even without the trash and decay to guide me, I still know these woods like the back of my hand. Peeta follows me as I walk the now nonexistent path that used to lead and comfort me on my hunts. I stop at the tree I used to store my bow and arrows in. Peaking inside, I see they've become ingrown to the tree.
A part of me will always remain here.
I reach the cliff and look down, overcome with so much emotion I have to sit and take deep breaths, the tears ever flowing. I almost lost my life here. I almost lost my mother. I shot Snow here. This is where my real escape began. And now? Now it just sits here innocently, forgotten for years, as if nothing of importance ever happened.
On the way back out of the woods, I pick some blackberries, which Peeta and I eat with wistful smiles on our faces. The significance is not lost on either of us.
When we're heading back, something catches my eye - I can hardly believe it.
A piece of faded cloth is sticking out of the ground, buried in years of dirt. I probably would've overlooked it, except for the familiar button eye. Quickly, I get on my knees and dig it out. It's almost falling apart in my hand when I retrieve it and hold it in my hand, completely speechless.
It's an old cloth doll I'd made Prim.
Peeta's silent as I begin crying again, rubbing my back for reassurance.
I do the only thing that feels right. I dig a bigger hole, gently place the doll inside, and bury it again. Peeta picks wildflowers, knowing exactly what I'm doing, and places it on the grave.
We sit there for a few minutes in reverent silence, as if saying goodbye to the terrified children we used to be.
AN: Well, that's it! This story is officially complete. I've enjoyed this journey with you all. As most of you know, this story is very personal to me. It's partially based on my own childhood, and my escape to a new life. I cried more times than I can count while writing this. Your own personal stories you've shared along the way have touched my heart, and I wish you all nothing but love and happiness.
I'd just like other survivors to know they aren't alone and there is hope. I'd LOVE to hear from you guys! This is the end, after 5 years and writing 300k words, and your comments have been my driving force - so hearing from you will mean the world to me. Even if it's only a few words. In any case, thank you for reading and thank you for the closure.
You can find me on tumblr: heathersaid :)