Sunday March 4th 2016 – State 4

The fire in me burns out just as quickly as it came when I close the front door softly, sealing the distance between both me and Peeta. I lean my head back against the door and close my eyes. This isn't how it was supposed to go.

"What happened?" The question is so quiet yet so close I startle, my eyes flying open. It came from the other side of the door.

I groan quietly and slide my back down the door until my ass reaches the floor. I rest my forehead on my knees and try to suck in my tears.

"I don't know." I whisper, but I know he won't hear it. He won't hear anything I say even if I'm standing right in front of him. It's a lie anyway. I know what happened. My life got fucked and in turn I fucked up his. And by the time I got it together I was too late.

I want to tell him everything. I want nothing more than to run out to him and spill my whole story. But he's not going to listen and it would take far more time than we have this morning.

I press the heels of my hands hard into my eye sockets. Finnick said he'd help me, that it'd just take some time.

But Finnick's dead, the small voice inside me says.

Hot tears spill from my eyes and onto my cheeks. I take a deep breath and attempt calm but it only makes it worse. In no time at all I'm a shaking mess against the door. But I don't make a sound. I can't let Peeta hear me.

I refrain from my old habit of digging my nails into my arm, preserving my now unmarked skin. Dr Aurelius' old words of advice float around in my head. I go through a few coping strategies he taught me. But it does little to hide the enormous amount of loss I've experienced today. Eventually I tire and I feel the fingers of sleep threatening to pull me under. I take one last look at the stairs in front of me before I fall into unconsciousness.

It takes a week for Haymitch to corner me. I'm honestly surprised he hadn't sooner. He didn't question me when I arrived a week earlier, tear stricken and half crazed after driving halfway across the country. He didn't question me when I didn't get out of bed the next morning. Or when I refused to explain what happened back in State 4. I'm sure he guessed half of it by now anyway. So I'm surprised when today he stands in front of the window I've been staring out of and shoves my iPhone in my face.

"I was hoping you would have tied loose ends when you left State 4. But judging by your phone it seems you haven't."

I don't answer. I pretend I'm still staring out the window and that Haymitch's torso isn't blocking the view.

"In one week you have…43 text messages and 21 missed calls from….let's see….you're boss, Johanna, Finnick, Annie and last but not least the boy. And they're all ranging from "call us back" to "hope you're okay" to "are you dead, Katniss?""

I glare at him but still refuse to answer.

"The funeral is in two days Katniss. They would want to be there. And I know somewhere inside of you, you want them to be there too."

He places the phone in my lap and vacates the view of the window. I stare at my phone for an impossibly long time. Do I want them to be there?

I don't know. I don't know much anymore. I do know that I would like to sink down in my bed and never wake up again. Ever since Mom died I've wondered whether there's more peace where she is. Yeah, I've wondered that a lot. And that's exactly why Haymitch called Dr Aurelius.

My fingers twitch for the phone and I read a few texts but steer clear of Peeta's. I want to text back, I even open up a new message but all that happens is I throw my phone into the corner of the room.

I've messed up. And I don't know how to fix it.

"You're hurting them by doing this, you know."

I nearly jump out of my skin. I turn to find that Haymtich hasn't left the room at all. That he's been watching me only about 5 feet away and I've been completely oblivious.

Get it together, I tell myself.

"I hurt them long before I came here, Haymitch." My voice is gravelly from misuse and crying but I get the message across okay.

He stares at me with such intensity I squirm in my seat. "If you're not going to deal with this than I will."

I don't know what he means but I don't exactly care. I know he won't. Haymitch is always full of empty threats.

"You're hurting her."

His index finger points to the floor above where my little sister resides. The young girl I'd spent my life trying to protect.

I sigh and think of my blonde headed sister, who's too young , too gentle. I can't let her lose me too. "I'll try harder tomorrow." I promise.

"Katniss!"

I jolt awake and scan the room, realizing I'm not at Haymitch's. Instead I'm looking into the eyes of Johanna. I have to squint, my eyes are dry and puffy. "You look like shit. What the hell are you doing?"

"Nothing." I glare at her and quickly spring to my feet, trying to rid the old memory from my mind. I dust my pants off and shake out my hair. "What time is it?"

"Eight." She stares at me like I've lost my mind. "Why were you sleeping against the door?"

"It was comfortable." I deadpan then brush past her and start up the stairs.

"Katniss!"

"Yes?"

"Are you going to tell me or am I going to have to guess?"

"I'm going to…take a shower."

I reach the top step and am just metres from the bathroom when she finally responds and stops me in my tracks. "Where's Peeta?"

I freeze with my hand on the railing and stare straight at the wall ahead of me. "What do you mean?"

"He's not here."

Oh, god. Where the hell is he? My mind flits through a magnitude of different scenarios, each one getting more and more horrible until I fully remember what happened last night.

If I fell asleep against the door, then he…

"Did you check the porch?"

I wait until she opens the front door and I see her face light up in recognition before I retreat to the bathroom and lock the door. I take a few deep breaths with my face in my hands.

The dreams are never easy. They've come and gone over the years but they've never really stopped.

Get it together, I tell myself.

The hot water pipes rattle as I turn on the shower. I run it to a scolding temperature like I always do. Peeta always hated that.

Stop it.

I reach for my toiletry bag but I catch the edge and it tumbles to the floor. I sigh. Some things don't change. I get down to my knees to collect the scattered contents. My fingers pause on a small pill bottle I'd forgotten was in there. I roll it between my fingers, examining the label. Anti-depressants. I hadn't needed them in a year. I shake my head and chuck them back into the bag with everything else until I'm left with just my soap and razor. As I begin to wash myself under the stream of hot water I try not to dwell on last night's conversation with Peeta. But of course that's all I'm thinking about. His accusations weren't unfair. I try to pretend that they didn't hurt me. Again, that's a lie. Try all I want, but the truth is the man I love – or used to love? – hates me and there's not so much I can do about it. I barely even recognise the man down there and I'm at a total loss of how to even begin to address the situation. I sigh heavily, and step out of the shower.

I search my suitcase in my bedroom being reminded that Prim revamped my closets a while ago. I finally settle on skinny jeans and a long tank that look comfortable at least. I'm busy tying my hair in a messy bun while simultaneously trying not to fall down the stairs that I don't register the conversation in the kitchen until I'm halfway across the lounge.

"Where's your fiancé? I'd figured she'd be here."

"She's not my fiancé, Jo." Peeta seems aggravated.

I stop in my tracks unsure if I should just wander back up the stairs. They begin talking again before I can decide.

"You have a ring don't you?"

I can hear him groan. "A secret ring. Finnick helped me pick it out. Well, he actually picked it out. Cost me a mint."

"What?" Jo sounds surprised.

"What?" Peeta sounds defensive. "He was good at all that romantic stuff. He knew her pretty well. Why is that so weird?"

"No reason." I narrow my eyes at Johanna. "But you still didn't answer my question. Where is she?"

I can hear the agitation in his sigh. "She's overseas."

"What?"

He huffs again. "She's doing photography, trying to get into National Geographic."

"She didn't offer to come back?" Johanna ventures. I'm not sure why she's pressing the subject so hard but I'm intrigued.

I hear a chair scrape and heavy footfalls. "I told her not to. It's pointless." Plates clatter in the sink. "I'm going to take a shower."

Shit. I'm standing dead centre in the living room where the kitchen opens to. I turn to dart back upstairs but my foot snags a lone cord and a lamp goes tumbling to the ground. I cringe and try to pick it up and still make my escape. By the time I turn around Peeta and Jo are staring at me in the doorway.

Ah fuck.

"Morning!" I greet them, maybe a little manically, and wave at them with the lamp.

I watch as Peeta stares at me and then just walks away.

I sigh. Yeah, that's how I thought it was going to go.

I follow Jo to the dining table and pick at her unfinished bowl of fruit salad dejectedly. She waits until the sound of Peeta's footsteps retreat to the second level to talk to me. "You heard all that?"

"I heard all about the fiancé." I try to tell her around my mouthful of berries.

"You okay?"

I shrug. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Jo picks up a strawberry with her fingers and places it into her mouth. "I heard about your little tiff last night that you didn't want to admit."

I glare at her and use the fork to snatch the bit of pineapple she was about to grab. She protests only for a second.

"Finnick never got the chance to tell him about everything, Jo." I say.

Her short hair shakes when she nods her head. "Yeah, I know. You should tell him."

I look at her incredulously. "What good would that do?"

"Well it would make you seem less of a mega bitch." She says as she contemplates.

I snort and swallow another mouthful of fruit. "No."

She shrugs. "You're call." She finally swipes the bowl into her possession, placing it in her lap. "Oh, don't look so sad, it's mine."

I roll my eyes and walk towards the door.

"He'll ask eventually, you know."

"Yeah, I know." I say. But I'm already halfway across the living room. She probably doesn't even hear it.

000

At about eleven I quietly knock on Annie's door and enter the master bedroom in hopes of getting her up for the day. I expect her to be swathed in a nest of blankets, shutting out the rest of the world. I expected this because that was how I dealt with grief. Instead she's dressed and sitting quietly on the window seat, looking out at the large backyard.

"Annie?"

I startle her slightly but she motions for me to enter. I shut the door softly behind me.

"We have food downstairs." I tell her as I sit on the plush cushions at the window. I can hear the sound of Peeta making lunch even from up here. She nods but doesn't avert her eyes from the window.

"I don't what I'm supposed to do." I nearly miss it, her voice is so quiet.

"What do you mean?"

She shrugs and I watch her eyes glaze over. "I organized the funeral. I did his will. But now…what do I do? Just sit here and mourn him? I'm confused, Katniss."

I take a deep breath and try to word my answer carefully. I know what she's going through. But the difference between us is that she actually wants to have meaning. I never did. "You just keep going." I tell her simply. "You come downstairs and have breakfast…lunch, whatever. You take your vitamins. Then we go to the beach or watch a movie. It doesn't matter. You just have to keep going. Don't give up."

Her head bobs up and down slowly as she contemplates what I told her. "What happens if you give up?"

I swallow thickly. "You lose. You lose it all. And that's ten times worse than feeling like this right now. Trust me."

She's silent for a long time, staring out the window. I follow her gaze and watch a mother bird fly to its babies in a nest. Just when I think she won't utter any more words she says, "You have to forgive yourself for what happened after college, Katniss."

I go completely still, that being the last thing I expected to come from her mouth.

I mull it over. I've…come to terms with it. I've gotten past it. But forgiven myself? "I think I'm getting closer." I admit, finally.

"If Peeta forgave you would forgive yourself?"

I don't want to entertain that idea so I shoot it down quickly. "That's not going to happen. He hates me."

"He doesn't hate - "

"Yes he does." I tell her evenly. "It's okay."

She looks inexplicably sad by my reservation. "He needs time, Katniss."

I almost smile. "That's exactly what Finnick said. But time for what, Annie? We're not anything to each other anymore. He's getting married. Finnick helped Peeta buy the ring. Did you know that?"

She nods sadly. "Yeah."

"We're clearly done romantically and I don't think we can be friends. I don't know what Finnick was trying to tell me."

She sighs but her eyes are no longer focused on me. She opens her mouth to say something but no words come out.

Not wanting to push the topic, I blurt out the question that's been bothering me since early this morning. "Is she nice?"

"Who? Peeta's girlfriend?"

I nod.

Annie chews the inside of her cheek and glances out the window again. "Yeah, she's really lovely."

I didn't expect anything less. "Good. As long as he's happy."

"Are you okay that his happiness is not with you?"

I'd been asked a similar question before. I don't even think before I reply.

"Yeah, of course."

000

Lunch is…tense? Or maybe I'm imagining it. Peeta and I sit at the opposite ends of the table as far from each other as humanly possible. Johanna and Annie seem at ease, though. The bright side is the food is amazing so I don't have to worry about too much conversation as I continuously shovel it into my mouth. Johanna takes it upon herself to use my suggestion of going to the beach. No one disagrees.

We end up on the deserted part of the Strip that's a mix of sand and stones. I know all of us, including Finnick, have come here one way or another to just get away from everything. Although the waves are choppy and with the collection of rocks it's not swimmable, it's still everyone's first place of choice. We sit quietly in a loose row on the sand. Waves roll in and out in their own rhythm. You can't hear the sounds of the town from here. The volleyball courts and beach bars are just specks in the distance. I watch a yacht cruise across the ocean, gently rippling further and further away from the land. I wonder if that is what it's like when you die. Just endlessly floating along wherever the current takes you.

"We don't have beaches in Five." Johanna mutters quietly staring out at the ocean.

"Neither did Eleven." I answer still watching the ever shrinking yacht.

"I didn't realize how much I missed it until I came back here."

"I don't think any of us did." Annie says. I look over at her. "Even Finnick hadn't been to the beach in a long time. I was going to tell him we should make a trip back here before…" Her voice cracks and trails off. Peeta places an arm around her.

Finnick, where are you? I think. Above us in the clouds? Next to us on the spirit plane? No, I know where he is. I watched him be scattered out to sea. His body anyway. It's hard to imagine any other part of him being left over. I've always been sceptical of spirits. I don't think he's living in some other dimension, torturously close but not quite close enough to us. I don't think the breeze or a chirping bird is communication from him to us. His spirit is in our memories.

I have a million memories of Finnick. From early in college spanning just weeks before the accident. But now I only wish I had more. I think of all the times I missed; from simple things like when I didn't go to a party or volleyball game, to the more complicated like what happened after college.

I took him for granted. I realized this a while ago. Friends like Finnick are few and far between. He never gave up on me, even after I cut everyone out of my life.

I'm nervous when I hear the knocking on the door. I know who it is but it still makes me nervous. Deep breath. Hand on the doorknob. Twist.

He stands there smiling as brightly as I remember. He looks exactly the same. I don't know why I imagined he would look different.

"Hey, girl."

He's waiting for my response. I bite my lip for a second and then smile nearly as brightly as he did. "Hey, Finn."

He nearly crushes me in a hug. I rest my head against his shoulder and breath in his scent. "I missed you." I tell him. I try to steady my voice despite the ache in my throat.

I can feel the vibrations through his chest as he chuckles quietly. "Oh, I missed you Kat."

Texts and telephone calls only go so far. I know I missed him. But I didn't understand the extent of it until this moment when I have him here in front of me. I know my eyes are turning glassy and I'm glad my face is against his shoulder.

We finally pull away and I know he's really looking at me for the first time in nearly a year.

"You look good." He finally tells me.

I don't really know what to say. I don't exactly feel good. I feel okay…but not good. I think of the bottles of pills in the bathroom or the monthly doctor's appointments I still keep. Instead of answering I step away from the doorway so he can enter the apartment. He follows me to the couch, his eyes roaming over the room. I stop in the centre of the rug and cross my arms.

"You look confused."

He shakes his head. "No…just getting used to this. So what's State 11 like? I had only a very brief glimpse from my taxi ride over."

I think about that for a minute. "It's nice. Nicer than 12, actually. And I'm only about an hour away from Prim and Haymitch and about 20 minutes to work."

"Ah, the new job." He smiles. "What is it again?"

"You know United? The relief organisation."

"Isn't that based in the Capitol?"

"They have offices everywhere. I joined the legal team here."

The conversation flows easily from there. I make tea and we catch up for hours with every bit of information we can collectively think of. Only one topic is off limits. It's an unspoken rule. Well at least I think it is until Finnick says, "Were you in 12, about a month ago?"

"I…would've just moved here. Why?" I frown.

He doesn't answer straight away. He fiddles with the mug in his hand for what seems an impossible amount of time.

"I'm not meant to tell you this but…" He looks into my eyes and the next words come out in a rush. "Peeta came to State 12 looking for you."

I stare at him blankly for a really long time as panic slowly creeps into my body. This isn't how it was supposed to go. I pinch the bridge of my nose and try to calmly think about this.

"What happened?"

"Haymitch sent him away. Said you'd gone."

"Did he tell him where?" Finnick shakes his head.

It's physically painful to know Peeta's still hurting, to know that he's still pursuing something that can never happen. I can't give him what he wants and I thought he'd realize that by now. "Finnick, please help him move on," I plead.

He looks guilty for a second, for whatever reason I have no idea. "I'm trying. We're moving to the Capitol in a few weeks."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'm sick of doing this long distance shit with Annie and I think it'll be good for Peeta. He won't admit it but he doesn't like working for the family business anymore."

"Is he…okay, at least?" I ask hesitantly.

I watch as Finnick's face hardens just slightly, almost imperceptibly. "Would you be?"

"Doesn't he hate me by now?" He must, it's been nearly a year.

Finnick looks sad. "No, far from it. But if you leave it any longer he will."

An idea suddenly dawns on me. "Did you come here to see if I would come back?" It makes sense to me. This is a last ditch effort to get through to me before Peeta completely moves on and erases me from his life.

"No!" His widens and he waves his hands back and forth in front of him. "I came here to see you."

"I can't go back Finnick," I tell him as I nearly hyperventilate. "I've just got myself together here. All I do is go to work, eat, sleep and see my family. I don't even know anyone here! I can't handle anything else."

"I know, I know." He says, trying to calm me. "I'm sorry I shouldn't have said anything.

"He deserves more than me, Finnick. It's better if he just moves on."

He gives me a look as if to tell me I'm wrong but he never actually says it.

He never told me I was wrong but I always knew he thought it. He was closest to it that day because later it became futile; Peeta had a girlfriend and finally transitioned to hate me. I wonder vaguely if it's the same girl Johanna let slip a long time ago. I suppose it would be, if they're getting married.

I sigh and continue to stare out at the ocean. Peeta asked me last night if I regretted leaving. And I told him no, which is true. What I regret - and can't seem to explain to Peeta - is that our relationship coincided with my own mental breakdown. I don't quite know how to make him believe that I loved him too much and still left for my own sake.

I watch the sun begin to descend ever so slightly and silently wish I'd met Peeta three years later.

000

Part of my therapy has always been exercise. Dr Aurelius suggested it when I first started seeing him and now it's an ingrained part of my routine. I have to admit it works surprisingly well.

By now it's already dark outside the house but I can feel the restlessness humming in my veins. I need to get out. I lace my runners tightly, double knotting them, and trail lightly down the stairs.

The nights in State 4 are always the best. It's still warm but the scorch of the sun is gone and the stars light up the sky. I take off north, towards the centre of town, starting off on a light jog. I still know the streets like the back of my hand. My mind wanders, as it tends to do when I run, and I get out all my aggression from today by pushing my legs harder. I recognise many of the smaller details that whiz past me; a mailbox, a streetlight, and as I get further in, the cafes and eventually the bars.

I can hear music coming from somewhere on the Strip and I can make out the light glow of a bonfire on the sand. I roll my eyes at the fact that it's Sunday and the kids are still out there, probably since Friday.

Ugh, I'm getting old.

I jump, and my pace stutters, when a car zooms past with guys hanging out of the windows wolf whistling. I have half the mind to yell something back at them but my breath is already labouring and I don't want to waste my energy.

I take a left and up the pace again. I'm getting further to the city centre and begin dodging other pedestrians. It only takes another half hour for the pain in my body to stop being enjoyable and start to feel like I'm dying. I give in. I brace my hands on my legs and get in a few deep breaths until I can stop feeling my pulse through my face. When I straighten up I realize where I've run. The city square. To be more exact, looming just in the distance is the courthouse. I stare at it for a long moment. Then I'm walking towards it, watching it grow in my vision. I'm on the marble steps before I've even gotten a hold of my thoughts.

It comes back to me all at once; the hours I'd spent cooped up in a cubicle, and later an office, with Annie at the firm. Reviewing case notes, creating fake interviews, finding evidence, all to end up here. In the courthouse.

But I didn't make it.

I stare at the heavy wooden doors. I imagine the Mellark family and Cinna walking through it. I imagine all the lawyers arguing for weeks, trying to convince the jury that their side is right. I imagine Peeta in a suit and tie sitting on the stand.

I don't know what I was doing when all that happened. I don't know what Peeta was going through while the case ran. I don't know what the texts and voicemails on my phone were.

God, I'm a bitch.

I don't even know if my efforts made a difference in the end. I was so far gone for most of that year that I can't even recall hearing a single news report on the outcome of the trial. I could've googled it, I could've asked Johanna or Finnick. Truth is, if they lost it, I don't want to know.

A gust of wind breaks my trance. I shield my eyes from the mix of sand and dirt that hits my face. My eyes water but they were already wet. It's a few seconds before I can look up again. I take one last look at the courthouse and run.

My pace is just as aggressive despite my depleting supply of energy. I take a few backstreets to avoid knocking anyone over in my haste.

However, I lose steam quickly. It doesn't take long for the light headedness and the muscle cramps to set in. I push through it all, well aware I'll feel it tomorrow morning. But I don't really care.

I'm not in a good shape when I finally stand in front of the house. I'm angry at myself and just about everything else and I can barely stand up straight. I fling the door open, a little loudly, and stomp into the threshold. I'm on such an intense mission to find water that I walk straight into Peeta.

His expression is strange for a second, like he'll yell at me. Then actually looks at me.

"Are you okay?" He says it as almost a reflex.

Those three words burn in my ears. I stomp past him and to the fridge and scull the first bottle of water I can find. I lean my head against the fridge door and finally catch my breath.

"Fine." I mutter but I can hear my own voice shake.

I hate the expression on his face because for the first time in 48 hours I recognise it. He looks familiar. And it brings me back to three years ago, exactly where I'm stuck and exactly where I don't want to be.

"Katniss - "

"Don't." I hiss.

"Don't what?" He counters, arms crossed.

This should be when I stop. When I calm myself down and stop my thoughts from spiralling out of control like they have been for the past hour.

But of course I don't.

"Don't pretend to care!" I spit at him. "I don't blame you that you hate me. I wanted you to hate me! Just - "I shove the fridge in front of me like that's the real problem. And I immediately lose the words that were about to spill from my mouth.

The room is silent aside from the whirring of the fridge. I can feel him watching me as I slowly begin to unravel. I can't get the images of the courthouse out of my head.

"If I asked you something would you answer it?" I test, still staring at the fridge.

I wait for what has to be a full minute and when he still doesn't answer I finally look at his face. He's waiting.

"Do you know how you said last night, your feet just took you back to our old house? Well, the same thing kind of happened to me tonight but I ended up at the court house." I say slowly, watching his reaction. His face might as well be made of stone. I take a deep breath and ask the question I've kept locked up for so long. "Did you at least win the case, Peeta?"

Any shred of compassion that was still on his face is gone in an instant. "How do you not know that?" He asks in a low tone.

Answer: I never looked.

But he doesn't tell me. He walks out of the room and I'm left in the state of oblivion that I was so scared to break free of in the first place.

000

I watch the numbers of the digital clock flick over one more time. 11:58. The day's nearly over. I'm sitting Indian style on my bed formulating a response to a text from Prim. I hate the fact that I still need to assure Prim and Haymitch I'm alright, even now. But I can't really blame them. Prim was the one that got me to smile again. And Haymitch was the one that kept Finnick and Johanna in the loop when I didn't.

I ignore the fatigue of my muscles and focus on texting the right words. The time between the altercation in the kitchen and now I've spent calming down and using my old therapy techniques. I resolve myself to the fact that tomorrow will be better. That maybe in some strange way Peeta and I can find a shred of peace in our tangled past.

I know it's a long shot but I have to try.

So when I finally finish my response to my sister and tell her yes, everything is okay, it doesn't feel as much of a lie as it did before.

I glance at the clock.

11:59.

I shut my eyes and wait for the last minute.

A/N: Thank you for reading!

To all the reviewers: sorry I didn't get to reply to you. But I really appreciate all your kind words and I always love to hear what you guys have to say :)

-Elli