Author's Note: So, I have not updated in what feels like years, but I recently got a few notifications from this story and felt really inspired to write. That, and the fact that I am procrastinating. I really tried to add more craziness to this story, and try to show more of Kathleen's story and trauma. I hope I get across the message I was going for, and if not... C'est la vie. I really hope you enjoy it and it is worth the decades long of waiting. I really try to make it as long as I can without putting random fillers, but I do not know what you classify as long chapters. Maybe I'll make the next chapter really long just to make it up to everyone.

My mind was blank as a bright light blinded my vision, burning my eyes. Tears rolled down my face from the sensation, mentally pleading for this torture to end. It felt as if I was lost in space. It was as if my body did not belong, as if I was taking up unnecessary space. Lungs fought to contract, and all of the sudden I was back.

"Do something!" These words have haunted me ever since I left the ring. Not a second goes by when I do not hear him pleading me to end his life.

However, there he was, standing in front of me. Crimson stained his skin; some of it was his, some of it was from other tributes. The sight was enough for my stomach to empty it's contents. That is what might have happened had I managed to eat a decent meal, but that is next to impossible when you are fending for yourself.

Instincts took over and I ran towards the boy, Tim. I made sure to learn all the tributes names, they deserved to be remembered, even though I was positive I would not live long enough to remember them. Sometimes things work out in mysterious ways. I would have never thought that the boy in front of me would be the last person I had to beat.

Judging on his appearance I should have been confident and at ease with the outcome. There is no way a dying boy would be able to beat me in a fight, especially when he needed to use one of his hands to hold his wound. I could not bring myself to accept victory. I could not let Tim go out like this. His family was watching him, they were witnessing him die. Tim needed to go out with dignity, not pleading me to end his life in front of all of Panem.

My hands hastily tore off the moss growing on the nearest tree. I forced the injured boy to lay down, pressing the lush green onto his wound and holding it there firmly. The next step was to keep him hydrated; feeding him the last of the water I had collected over these long days. His stomach flexed as he gulped the liquid, and the contraction of his muscles caused more blood to ooze out of his wound. My mind went into panic mode, trying to press the moss deeper into his wound, only to see red stain the grass beneath us.

"Come on!" I shouted in frustration. Tears welled up in my eyes as I watched the life start to leave his eyes, "Don't you dare die on me!" Screams erupted from my throat, coming out raspy. With each second his body weight became heavier, until he was completely limp in my arms.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of the 72nd Annual Hunger Games!" Chants echoed from around the arena. My hands coated with the thick blood from the other tribute. I did this. My eyes could not break from the corpse on the floor; it took everything in me to hold back the lump in my throat. A tear almost fell from my eye, but I was frozen. The hovercraft has come to collect me, and a separate one lugged the dead boy away.

This was all my fault. Tim died because of me. Had I just taken my own life, he could have been healing instead of me getting to go out and celebrate this victory. How can they expect me to be proud when this guilt is eating me from the inside out. My mind swirled and I felt helpless as my body collapsed from exhaustion.

I fell on plush sheets, bouncing from the impact. My eyes opened, examining my surroundings to notice I was back in my room. It was as if time had hoped, or maybe I had just had another nightmare. The confusion in my mind was blocking out the fear, trying to figure out why it all felt so real. I must have been reliving it again. Maybe someone slipped something in my food, or drugged me in my sleep. It would not be the strangest thing to happen in the Capitol.

"You're awake," my focus turned to the laying man in my bed, "Another nightmare?"

I nodded my head wondering why Finnick was here. After our few days of getting acquainted, I assumed he knew to give me space. Not like he would listen, or ever leave me alone.

Involuntary, I curled into him, feeling his warmth pressed up against me. Lips grazed my neck, sponging kissed up to my jaw. A sigh rolled off my tongue as teeth began to nip at the sensitive flesh just below my ear. I hate to admit it, but this was helping comfort me from the traumatic experience. I needed my mind to get off of Tim under any means necessary.

"I love you," the words ran through my ears like silk. They sounded so sweet coming from his mouth. I know that those words should be comforting, but they had a much different effect on me. My throat tightened, fighting to keep the air flow constant. I was not stable enough for this. My mental state could not handle having anyone acknowledge these emotions. Even if Finnick did mean these words, I know I could not reciprocate them. I was not made to love. I was made to break, to fall apart.

"Please don't say that," tears threatened to fall again. Comfort no longer took place in the arms of him. Stress built up in the pit of my stomach, I could taste the bile raising into my throat. My body heated, shaking from the wave of various emotions crashing down on me all at once. I could not control my movements, spasms were making my muscles twitch. The beating of my heart was rapid, fighting to pump my blood through my veins.

A loud scream ripped from my pit of my stomach. I needed to release this feeling. Another scream left my lips, sending me into a blank state. The bright light was back, burning a hole into my eyes. I cried, trying to ease the sensation, but the tears did not help. They rolled down my cheeks and onto the surface beneath me.

All of the sudden, I could not move my body. Everything around me went black and voices surrounded me. Male, female, young, and old voices. Machines beeped at a steady pace, and I could hear my own breathing echo in the cold room. The crisp air made goosebumps raise on my skin.

"She's stabilized," a woman said, followed by someone sighing.

My eyes craved to open, but the weight on them was too heavy. I wanted to know who was in this room. I needed to know if this was real or just another dream. Was anything a dream? It seemed as if I was reliving moments. The victory in the Hunger Games was a very real memory. There was no doubt in my mind that that was some form of deja vu, but Finnick confessing his love for me was something I can not recall. Had that really happened? I seemed to be dreaming about real events, so it must be true.

This could not be real. Finnick can not love me. I need him to stay the same, always, and never try to progress anything into something romantic. This was not safe for me. Him telling me this could send me into a downwards spiral. His feelings need to be avoided at all costs; I need space from him.

How am I going to do that when all of Panem thinks we are in a relationship? The victor gossip has to hold off for a while, or maybe not. Maybe I could find a way to kill this rumor with another rumor. I can announce the official breakup of Finnick and I. Then, he will have to leave me alone. Then, he will feel nothing for me.