Four months to the 74th Hunger games.
Why does time seem to pass faster when all I want it to do is... stop?
I've heard people say that at certain moments time does stop. So why won't it stop for me? At least a day. That's all I ask.
A day where I'm not a victor, where I don't get pitying looks. A day where I'm not a 'Townie,' where I don't get glares from more than half of Twelve.
I want a day.
Maybe I'm cursed. That sure would explain some things. But I have to remind myself, it was my fault I went into the Games; I volunteered.
And I don't regret a single second of it.
Maybe I'm lucky. I went into the Games with all the odds stacked against me, and I won. Maybe time won't stop for me, because if it does, I might never be able to get it going again. I could get stuck, and then what? Allow the world to continue on and leave me behind?
I won't be left behind.
Three months to the 74th Hunger Games.
I've had three more 'episodes,' as Haymitch and Gran call them. The first was from a nightmare- I woke up and immediately went to the kitchen and started hackingg everything up, apparently. The second was on my birthday, when Peeta surprised me and gave me a hug from behind. I hadn't even heard him come in. I flipped him over my shoulder and stomped on his chest. He felt really bad, but I told him it was my fault for not paying attention.
The third was... there was a minor explosion in the mines. It sounded like a canon.
Each one they had to hold me down until I calmed down. The last time, Peeta had to get a sedation shot from the pharmacy.
My neck still hurts whenever I think about it.
Thankfully, no one else had witnessed them.
Oh but believe me, they've all heard about them.
Two months to the 74th Hunger Games.
I wake up everynight from a nightmare, cold and covered in sweat. If I even sleep.
I zone out a lot. I think it worries Gran and Peeta.
Peeta asked me for girl advice. For Katniss. I tried to help, but I don't know her well enough to be able to help too much.
Every time I wake up from a nightmare it takes a while to remember where I am. Most nights I'm so disoriented that the sweat on me feels like blood. Like Rebekah's blood.
I dream about her a lot. Mostly that moment by the fountain, when I stuck the knife in her throat.
I wish the Games would stop. I don't see what would be so bad about that. If I was lucky, you think they would.
And this brings me all the way back to my first thought- maybe I am cursed.
One month to the 74th Hunger Games.
Time sure does fly when all you want it to do is stop.
I asked Peeta how many times his name was in. He was my only friend- despite the others from school who tried to be my friend now. I hadn't ever heard a word from them before I got back as a victor.
I would ask Gale, or maybe Katniss, but I don't think that would go well at all.
Peeta's answer makes me feel better. Only 16. He's almost safe. Two more years, and I won't have to worry about him anymore.
This is the last year Gale's name will be in.
I try not to think about him too much, it does no good.
Thinking at all does no good.
So maybe I'll stop thinking. I'll just keep going, like the clock.