I got a lot of positive feedback on my first chapter so I made a second part! I hope you like it! Again, all credit goes to Suzanne Collins. Thank you for anyone who followed, added to favorites, or reviewed. I am still not sure if I am going to continue, so let me know what you think! Hope you enjoy!

"Mom, do you know a soldier named Gale Hawthorne?"

Silence descends on our small kitchen and I feel the air escape my lungs. Memories flood my thoughts and I try to force them out. Gale. Hunting. District 13. Prim. I clutch at the rag in my hand, squeezing any remaining water out of it. The silence suffocates me and I feel it closing in, numbing my senses. It's like I am under water. The air is heavy and forces all motion from me to move slowly, and methodically, as if unsure of anything.

"Mom?" Willow tugs at the hem of my shirt, begging me to look down at her.

For her sake, I try to compose myself. I look down at her striking blue eyes. "Um… yes?"

She tilts her head at me, questioningly. "Mommy. Do you?" He mouth tilts open, forming a small O shape.

I drag my body around and find myself staring into Peeta's deep blue eyes. There is so much in them. So many things that we just leave unsaid. He knows. My body moves slowly and mechanically. I feel like I am looking down on the situation, not in my body, watching the motions of some foreign person.

"I think I…" I choke on my own words and feel dry tears on my eyelids. I need to hold it together. For Willow. For Rye. I take a shallow, shaky breath and spit out, "I have to go." I whisper these words and wipe my hands on my pants before turning towards the door. The sudden motion rips Willow's small hands from gripping on to me, desperately trying to keep me here. In this moment. I'm sorry. I am sorry I can't be the parent you need. I push open the door and don't bother to close it, probably letting the chilled air enter my home. I am vaguely aware that I left the water running.

"Katniss!" Peeta shouts after me asking, "Where are you - ?" His question lingers in the damp, empty air. He can see me. His words propel me forward, and I am running. I am not aware of my movements. But I notice myself thinking the words: Left. Right. Left. Right. I push forward, unsure of my destination. My lungs start to burn and I ignore the pain. The air shoots its way down my throat, strangling my breath, forcing it to emit in terrible sounds of gasps and sobs.

Before I know it, I am in the forest, in the place Gale and I used to meet. In the place that he kissed me the first time. In the last place I stood before leaving my district for the very first time. Before I entered the Games the first time. I trip over a rock and sprawl out on the forest floor. I don't bother to push myself up. My feet are remembering the way I used to move through the forest, effortlessly and silently. It was the closest thing to flying. I could glide through the undergrowth and climb into the highest limbs, breathing the highest air, the purest air. But they haven't practiced the talent in so long that they seem to have forgotten the steps. I lay there, face down, in the leaves and twigs, and I can't hold in the sobs. I don't cry, not one tear slips out of my eye but the noises that come from me keep their volume at a constant high.

I haven't been back in the forest for years. I was dropped off in the Victor's Village, alone. I stayed there. People would come and make sure I was eating, make sure I was alive. I am sure somebody forced them to. They felt obligated to keep me alive after everything I did for them. Everything they made me do, as they used me and molded me and forced me to do what they wanted. I just stayed holed up there, never leaving. I breathed the same air and looked at the same walls for what seemed like ages. I didn't do anything that wasn't necessary. I breathed, I ate, and I went to the bathroom. I didn't shower, I didn't think about anything serious or too deep. Eventually people stopped coming. They finally realized that I didn't care. I didn't want to see them. I didn't want to see anyone; they just probed at my raw memories, at my raw pain.

And then that one day Peeta came. He came and he was all I wanted to see. The only one who got it. Somehow, through both of our scars and imperfections, we fit together. There was something about they way we both were so broken, so alone, so hurt, that we found each other. Our pieces completed the others destroyed life. He was the only constant that made me calm. He was the only one I wanted to see, to touch, to care about. And he cared for me too, I know that. There were things I had planned on saying, and asking when he returned, but I didn't. There wasn't a reason to. Just looking in those eyes made me realize everything that I need to know. I knew that I was safe and that I was okay. Or, at least, I would be eventually.

My frail frame just lay there in the dirt. The sounds coming out of me have lessened and become more humane. I started to get everything out. Reliving every single thing that left me to find myself in the place I am now. In this darkness, just when I was pulling it together. At least, as together as someone so broken could be.

I am so absorbed in my own thoughts that the sound of another makes me jump. Nobody comes out here, they are too afraid with everything leftover from the Capitol. I should have realized somebody came. I guess I am losing my connection with nature. I am losing the way that I could just sense any change in warmth, in sound, in air density around me. Those were the days when I was with Gale. I shut my eyes at the thought. He left me. He doesn't care about me.

I realize the presence is still there and I gently raise my head a the sound of a familiar voice, "Hey Catnip."