I do not own The Hunger Games series, or the characters in it. Or the lyrics in it, for that matter.
Thank you to teamGale143 and for the reviews :)
I'll try to update as often as possible… but I can't be sure exactly how busy school will be for me, but I promise I'll update whenever I have time.
By the time I make it through the door, I'm gasping for air between sobs. I stumble towards the kitchen, grabbing the ledge of the marble counter to keep my balance. In a second, I'm on my knees, digging through a basket that I've never let myself see before. Greasy Sae told me that she put all my unread letters in a small woven tray next to the stove. What she didn't tell me was how many I'd received.
Mom, Gale, Mom, Gale, Peeta, Gale, Annie, Mom, Gale, Peeta, Mom…
My hands are shaking like I have Parkinson's as I sort each of them by sender, then by date. Then after an eternity of staring at the piles, I reach for the first one that Gale had sent me.
Dear Catnip,
Those two words evoke so many memories, so much love, so much hate, so much pain… I wonder if I'll even be able to get through the whole letter.
I hope you're doing alright in District 12. Haha, what's it like having Haymitch as your only neighbor? Not too bad, I hope. Do me a favor and try not to go see him too often. Not that he's a bad guy, of course, but after all that's happened I just figured that he might be drinking and since things can't be easy right now and that he might offer you one and that you might end up taking it. No! No, of course you wouldn't. What am I saying, Katniss, you're so strong. I mean, I don't think you'd be so weak to succumb to alcoholism. NO! No, Haymitch isn't weak. That's not what I meant. I mean I was just
Okay. I'll stop with that and get right to the point. I'm sorry Katniss. I am so, unbelievably sorry. I never expect you to forgive me. I should have been more careful, more thoughtful. It was so stupid for me to be designing traps for them. The goal was to get rid of Snow, not send us into an apocalypse by killing off half of mankind. I'm so sorry. I will never, ever be able to explain how sorry I am. Katniss, I would do anything to bring her back. I'm sorry, Katniss. I'm so, so sorry.
I love you
Your best friend
Gale
Short. Repetitive. But enough to trigger tears. His last words to me echo through my mind.
That was the one thing I had going for me. Taking care of your family.
The sobs come out harder, faster, and my chest hurts like I've been stabbed. I find myself shaking my head, looking at the letter, shaking my head faster. No, Gale. That wasn't the only thing you had going for you. You meant so, so much more to me. You were my best friend, Gale. My hunting partner. The one that I trusted more than anything. You always had my back, and I had yours. You loved me, Gale. And I love you so much it hurts to breathe. I miss my best friend, Gale. I needed you, Gale. I still need you!
I let out a cry and curl up into a ball, not even thinking about the white envelopes lying next to me. Gale. Gale. Gale. Gale. Gale.
I sit up, suddenly, and tear open the next one. It was sent the day after the first one. Each word is like a knife in my heart. He's in District 2. He's sorry. He misses me. He keeps crossing it out when he says he loves me. He's sorry. He hopes I'm doing well. He's sorry.
The next one was sent two days later. He's sorry. He misses me. He's sorry. He has a job. He's helping to rebuild the ruins of Panem. He's thinking of Prim. He's sorry. He still won't say he loves me.
A few days after that one, his letter is shorter. He's sorry. He wishes I would write back. His job is exhausting.
I spend the rest of the day reading his letters, carefully checking the date on each one. I've been here for five and a half months. His letters start getting shorter and less frequent. His last one was sent almost a month ago.
Katniss, you hate me. You haven't written back at all. I'm sorry. I'm still sorry. I will always, always be sorry.
I'll stop bothering you with these now. You probably aren't even reading them anymore.
I really hope things are good for you.
-Gale
I draw in a sharp, jagged breath, close my eyes, and lean my head back against the cupboard. Gale… I don't hate you… What am I talking about? Of course I hate you! You killed my sister! But you saved her before, and you saved my mother, and you saved me…
I scramble to find a pen and a piece of paper.
Gale,
I stop. I cry. I look back at the paper in front of me, and I start crying again. I stand up and pace, thinking of what to say. I sit back down again. I stare at his name in my large, messy handwriting. The crying starts up again. I can't do this.
I could call him? No, it's too late now. I could send him a package? But no, I don't have anything to send him. I let out a shout of frustration. I have never been good at words. In the Games, Peeta did all the talking. This is just like the time when I tried to write something for Rue. An empty sheet in front of me, unable to hold half the things I'm feeling. But I have say something to him…
Gale, I love you? No, that could be interpreted in a million different ways. Gale, come visit me? Oh, sure. Ask him to leave his high ranking job in Two to come see someone that hasn't bothered to write to him in months. Gale, I forgive you? That sounds so obnoxious! I have plenty to apologize for myself. Gale, I'm sorry? That wouldn't work, either. What if it makes him angry?
I bury my head in my arms, and slowly sing myself to sleep…
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where they strung up a man they say murdered three.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where the dead man called out for his love to flee.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where I told you to run so we'd both be free.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.