Darkness. I don't belong here. I have to protect Prim. Loud Explosions surrounded us the last time that she was with me, then the world distorted to black and my whole being felt like fire. Maybe I was on fire.

Now as I make out through my closed eyelids, not ready to open them, I see light. Still air surrounds me to signal I am inside, and that it is daytime. The sunlight must be shining through the clouds of smoke.

I squeeze my eyelids shut to return to where I feel the most comfortable. In the dark. The dark is much fonder of me, and I don't deny that relationship. I am home. With the amount of people I have killed, in the games and during the wars, I feel like I am comfortably suffocating under the pressure of my guilt. And personally, I cannot believe the person that I have become. I am comfortable in my suffering.

I don't deserve to live.

In present time, I can hear voices coming from near me. The war has substantially ceased. They speak of President Snow's trial, and that he is contained in his rose garden in the plaza of his mansion. The Capitol still has the upper hand in the trial of their traitorous president- the rebels could see straight through these Rose-colored glasses and see that this trial is frivolous. It is going to end with him in his grave, surrounded his irredescent roses. He committed hundreds of premeditated murders of the people who could be a possible threat to him and his autocracy. The children he blew to oblivion outside of his mansion to make a human shield.

The thousands of children murdered in his favorite television show.

Rue.

I have yet to open my eyes. The safeness of my mind seems sufficient. Nothing to hurt me, no one I have to let in.

This must be what it feels like all the time for the Morphlings; Trapped in an artificial mental blackout, not looking for a way out. I can tell that I am slowing being pulled out of my darkness. The doctors see me as having too many responsibilites- I am too important.

Responsibility makes me think of Prim. I don't even know if she is alive, but I feel as if it doesn't even matter. That I shouldn't fight this feeling of euphoria. I was closer to the explosion than she was, and she is only 13 years old, her body will be able to heal quicker than mine. She has always dreamed of following my mother's footsteps in healing, but now with the disposal of modern education, she can become a doctor. Helping others heal. I am not surprised that she is one with the natural instinct of doctoring others. I wasn't. If Prim was with Peeta in the arena, he might still have all four limbs. But he doesn't.

Peeta. I can feel the muscles in my neck tense at the thought. Did he even survive the capitol? Is he here with me right now? Is he the reason why my hand feels warm? That's crazy. He would be struggling with the thought of crushing my small hand with his. And also, I doubt that they would allow a hijacked boy into the room with me. Coin is in control, so it wouldn't be a terrible idea for her to just kill me off.

Peeta's last attack was only days ago. The only thing holding him together is the metal of the handcuffs. But that night in Tigress's retreat, Gale and Peeta's conversation about me, 'She will pick whoever she can't survive without." I'm fine by myself.

Gale. I lost him in the Capitol right before the floor started to pivot. Did he survive? I am happy we started to grow apart. How he blew up the Nut in 2 without any remorse. He saw things as there are not enough mountains to blow apart and too many enemies to kill. What about Madge? We didn't make it back to the house in the Capitol where we left her. She is resourceful. Her gentle demeanor would fit well with Gale, very balanced.

What 18 year old would be sorting their loved ones into categories of Dead or alive?

I slip off into sleep knowing that my dreams are safer than reality.

I'm running for Prim in the capitol, for what seems like hours. My throat is raw from yelling her name. She doesn't hear me. All I see is her braid bobbing up and down from each step she takes. When I come into range to grab her shoulder, I turn her around and don't see the innocent face of my sister. It's transformed completely beside the shining blue eyes with tears. The monster's face is contorted with its skin pulled across quickly and sloppily. The teeth similar to the mutts that once chased me to my almost death.

"Katniss," its growls, "you don't deserve to be here. You have killed too many. You killed me. You killed the boy you loved." The voice grasps a sullen look and whispers calmly, "You killed Dad." Her mutt face formed a grin that was just like the dead tribute Cato, "You killed me too."

She disappears into the dirt and I am left looking at my surroundings. The tall buildings transform into grass while I sit in the meadow with my legs crossed. The yellow of dandelions succumb the grass. The wind blows goose bumps up my arms and I close my eyes. I feel as though there is a calming instrument strumming inside my fibers.

It's an incomparable feeling. Peace.

Smoke starts to rise, reminding of that night. If was of the few where we went to bed with full stomachs. Prim and I spent it sitting around our crumbling fireplace.

I exhale deeply and open up my eyes. Except for one man in the distance.

Dad. Running, I catch sight of his too unfamiliar form. "Dad?" I circle around him to get a full image of his body. Wrapped around his neck is a noose defined by the top of shirt, saying John Everdeen drawn out with the berry dye in the gamemakers room. My father is dead. Now, with the president's face materializing on his vacant and empty face. Blood trickles out of his artificially puffed lips.

The mouth starts to spit out words to me with the sensation of the hot liquid splattered on my skin. "Katniss, you are okay." He snickers, droplets of his blood spray into my open mouth. "Miss Everdeen, it's the things we love the most that destroy us."

I step back twice to find a comfortable distance, again it speaks, it's face changing into something similar to static. "Katniss, I'm right here. Shh, everything it fine. Please."

The smoke begins to clear away and empty from my lungs. Sweat covers my body, but I can't move. Everything is slipping from my perfectly drugged world.