Such an intense last chapter.. This one is more of Katniss and the dream she has is kind of graphic. Also because I loved the sweet reviews I got, this chapter is longer than normal. Thank you so much for reading, and to those that have reviewed-thank you so so so much :)
Suzanne Collins still owns The Hunger Games
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The only reason I've awoken in my little self-made cave is because of a nightmare. In it were familiar faces, but slowly, in front of my eyes they decomposed. Finnick was smiling and cracking jokes about sugar cubes one moment and then I blinked and his flesh started tearing away from his skull. His eyes were popping out and only remained connected to his head by the optic nerves. Soon his piercing cries were all that were left of him. This happened with each person I knew that died. Last was Prim. Her death was different. She was holding a primrose and her little ducktail was present in the back. She was scowling at me and soon tears were pouring down her face like two little rivers. She was yelling at me, "Mutt! You are a mutt! You killed ME, your own sister!" After that her flesh began to melt. First there were dark spots, and then they turned to burns, which turned to completely burning off her face. Her blonde hair was falling in clumps to the ground. She then went limp at the knees and she fell awkwardly to the side, still holding the primroses in her bony, burned fingers.
Needless to say, I woke screaming, crying and many times almost vomited from the graphic images my mind had created. This is why I don't sleep. This is why I never want to. This is why I can never tend to the primroses behind my house.
I finally get the nerve to get up because I'm sure I'm about to get sick. I turn the knob slowly and push the door open gently, just in case someone was here. I listened for a moment and I heard nothing, not even breathing. Being a hunter, you learn to hear very quiet, distinct sounds-breathing is one of them. I start to walk out slowly, but the retching feeling is overpowering all senses and I full out sprint to the bathroom. Luckily, all houses in the Victors Village are identical, layout wise. I reach the bathroom with ease and everything came crashing down at once. After all the food is gone out of my system I lean against the tub, knees to my chin, tears staining my cheeks, while rocking back and forth. I'm painfully aware of the injury sustained by my shoulder blade. There's nothing I can do about it so I'm waiting like Haymitch asked of me. It's not very often I listen to the old drunk, but last night he seemed to be in a rare state of clarity so I will do as he says. I can see from my place on the tiles my reflection. My hair is ragged, my eyes a burning red, my cheeks are stained with blotchy redness and a few tear trails. I'm in my long nightgown from the previous afternoon nap that I never intended on taking. My lips are pale and the bags under my eyes are so predominant that I almost think someone took a dark marker and rubbed them under my eyes. I'm a mess and I know it.
I find some last bit of strength in me to pull myself up and climb into the shower behind me. I peel my clothes off and try to clean myself off as much as possible, but there's only so much cleaning soap and water can do. I step out into the bathroom and try to hold onto my last bit of sanity. The oval mirror in front of me reflects the hollowest looking girl I've ever seen. I turn away from the mirror and braid my hair to the side and put my nightgown back on. As I'm stepping out into the hallway, the back door connected to the kitchen opens. Haymitch looks ragged, almost as bad as I look. I think we have that last thought at the same time because he is looking me over and says, "Gee, sweetheart, you look like hell." At this I would normally say, "The same to you, you drunken fool", but instead I begin to cry. I hate that I am this way. What happened to me? I am clearly no longer the mockingjay.
Haymitch actually looks sad and to my great surprise he walks over to me and hugs me. It's an odd moment and I brush it off as soon as possible. I can't take pity from Haymitch, of all people.
Haymitch turns away and says, "You can go back to your house, he's not there anymore. But hey, kid?" I was almost at the door and I look at him. He looked down at his feet for a moment and then continued, "I can only do so much.. You need to talk to him. He's tearing himself apart over last night and I think only you can fix it. Give it time, you look pretty shaken up. Go home, eat something, but don't forget about Peeta. Don't let him torture himself. I know what I'm asking, but at one point, he was the only friend you had, remember?" Haymitch was right, he was my only friend in the games and now I'm his only friend here. If even as my last act, I will save the boy with the bread. I will heal his wounds, and hopefully mine as well. Because truthfully? I can't do this alone and only Peeta knows how I feel and right now I'm sure he's ten times worse than me. So I turn and go home after thanking Haymitch for everything. He just nods and goes into his cabinet to pull out some white liquor. I don't blame him, I would need some too after I can only imagine as hell last night.
I walk up my porch and almost turn the knob when I noticed an envelope in front of my door.
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Nice Haymitch is weird.. haha but I like to think Haymitch cares a lot for them.. What do you think is going on with Peeta right now? And what is up with that envelope..? Review and let me know what you think!