TRIGGER WARNING: detailed dialogue of depression, distress and suicide

1 in 4 people suffer from mental illness. If you are concerned about yourself or someone else there are many options available; whether it be reaching out to a friend/family member, calling or messaging a support service or visiting a GP. Help is always available.

USA: National Suicide Prevention Lifeline, 1-800-273-TALK

Monday 14th March 2016

I don't even particularly like running. More often than not I don't feel that fit satisfaction of working out, instead I feel like I'm dying. A slow death of muscle pain and oxygen deprivation. But I'd rather run than get caught up in the pits of depression. Because for me, at least, running helps keep the darkness at bay.

I've been running a lot lately. You'd think I was training for a marathon. But when I run I feel in control and it's that careful control that keeps me together. The rain has been an annoyance but not a deterrent. I've put together a schedule here in State 4 and I like to stick to it. Raining or not I'm out there pounding the pavement. I've started running earlier when I can feel the stress building up. I've never slept that much anyway and it's nice watching the sun rise – when I can see it through the rain clouds. It's also a nice moment of solitude before the rest of the house wakes up and some of the awkwardness ensues.

It's a strangely fragile situation staying at that house while Finnick's death is so fresh. My mess with Peeta hasn't helped any. He seems to be less on edge when he's not talking to me so I've kept my distance. It's the least I can do. I was silly to think that maybe he'd come around after all I've done. No matter what Finnick told me.

I sigh and quit running. I've made it to the edge of the Strip. There's barely anyone out here today because of the rain. Only a few overly determined surfers. Finnick once tried to teach me to surf and I was so pathetic I broke his board. He never asked me to go out surfing again.

I watch the grey waves roll in and out for a while. I'm mesmerized by the ripple of the ocean having been away from it for so long. Before I know it tears I've kept locked away are streaming down my face, joining the rain drops. I let myself cry for a little bit, for Finnick, for myself, for my old life. I only allow myself these moments when I'm alone in the early hours of the morning or late hours of the night. I don't let it go on too long. After a little while I dredge up that careful control I've worked so hard to obtain and put the mask back in place. I take a deep breath, bid goodbye to the ocean and head back where I came from. I end up walking back to the house, not interested in torturing myself any further today. I've taken longer than usual having stopped by the beach and it's nearing 7am. Still no one is awake. I quietly let myself back into the house where I've left my laptop and a pack of photos strewn about the coffee table. Annie found them the other day and gave me the ones of both me and Finnick. They span about a year with the dates and location written neatly on the back. I sift through them again quickly, comparing different months against each other.

February 2014...August 2014…July 2015…

I don't look any different between the months, my smiles look much the same, but I remember the struggle those times brought. The days where it was too hard to get out of bed, to go running, to work, to even hold a conversation. The dark days. They've steadily been getting less and less to the point where I've been stable for a while now. And I'm trying damn hardest to keep it that way.

I'm slipping the photos back into their sleave when an obnoxious buzz sounds from the coffee table. I drop the photos and they scatter around me.

"Piece of shit," I mutter as I retrieve my phone.

"Hey," I utter, assuming it's Prim, Haymitch or Gale checking up on me.

"Katniss?" Answers a female voice that is most definitely not Prim.

I'm slow to respond. "Portia?" I question, wondering why work is calling me.

"Yeah, sorry to be bothering you I know you're on leave and it's really early over there but we're tearing apart the office trying to look for that report you did two weeks ago."

I get over my momentary confusion and try to think. "Do you mean the one on the issues in Delhi?"

"That's the one. Where is it?"

"It's still on my computer. Why do you need it?"

She huffs in response. "Mr. Undersee is paying us an impromptu visit."

My heart flutters. Mr. Undersee had a habit for these impromptu visits which generally led to panic around the office. Don't get me wrong, he was one of the nicest men I've met, but he intimidated everyone around him, particularly me. The fact he was in charge of our payroll didn't help any. I say a silent prayer that I'm not there right now, remembering the god awful time I first met him.

It isn't the best day today. I wake up in a fog, only barely remembering I have to be at work. A heavy feeling sits in the centre of my chest and it takes me fiifteen minutes to earn the courage to get out of bed. I read that it's Thursday 1st of May and I'm slightly surprised by the change of the month. Not a good sign. I vaguely recall that I was meant to set my alarm early to go for a run to make up for the last week I'd missed. That realization only tightens my chest more as I stare at the blank face in the mirror.

"You have to go to work." I tell myself and pop a pill into my mouth. I test a smile on my face and am relieved to see I can at least fake it. It falls off my face however when I take my phone from my nightstand and find it void of messages. I draw a slow, deep breath and combat the voice in my head that tells me no one cares.

I arrive at work only 5 minutes later than usual and I'm still not even late. I practice deep breathing as I make my way to the 7th floor of the United building trying to settle the anxiety in my chest. When a co-worker of mine enters the elevator beside me, I flash my best smile and it seems to have passed the test because she returns it and asks how I am. I answer vaguely and change the topic to her daughter, knowing she'll carry most of the conversation with little input from me. However when the elevator opens and I step into the small office for the legal team, the feeling in my chest gives an uncomfortable squeeze.

"What's wrong?" I ask warily, eyeing the panicked looks of the others in the room.

"Well, turns out Mr. Undersee is paying as a surprise visit to review our plan for the latest project in Tanzania."

I freeze. The anxiety grows even tighter and a lump forms in my throat. Derrick Undersee is the CEO and founder of United and is an extremely notorious man in Panem. He lives and works from the Capitol, the main office of United. I've never actually met him. I was recruited by the senior lawyer of this office in 11.

I groan. Why today, of all days? I should've called in sick, I should've just stayed in bed -

"Shit, he's here!" One of the others in the office hisses as he stares through the glass walls and motions to the figure in a suit.

I don't have any time to calm myself before the door to our office is being pushed open and Mr. Undersee and a younger woman walk through the door.

"Good morning!" His voice booms through the office. "How is everyone today?"

I feel awful as we are all told to gather our work and head into the conference room. An array of pastries and a beverage table are set up, and despite having eaten nothing at home I'm still not hungry.

While people are still getting settled I don't notice Mr. Undersee approach me until he speaks and I nearly jump out of my skin.

Get it together, I scold myself.

"You're the new addition to the legal team, yes? I don't remember you."

With the sheer amount of employees I doubt he'd remember me even if he had met me. Instead of voicing that insult however, I test my fake smile again and say, "Yes, sir. Katniss Everdeen."

"Nice to have you on board, Miss Everdeen. This is my daughter, Madge Undersee. She had a lot of input into this new project in Tanzania and I thought it would be good if she were here for the meetings as well."

I smile again and shake the girl's hand.

"Nice to meet you," she says cheerfully and I see everything I could not muster up this morning displayed so freely in her. She's almost how I would imagine an older Prim. Everything I'm not.

"You too," I say quietly while my self-esteem takes a steady dive.

I sit around the table while the meeting persists but there's a fog in my brain that I'm unsure is self-inflicted or a side effect of the medication. I'm asked questions several times over and while my manager shoots me dirty looks, I see looks of sympathy radiate off Mr. Undersee's daughter. My anger spikes. I don't need anyone's pity.

I leave the meeting room ready to cry but instead I continue numbly through my day and note that I no longer even care if I get better.

I sigh and then give Portia my log in details. We hang up shortly after and I run upstairs to start a shower. I run it to a scalding temperature, my own personal preference, and relish in how the water soothes my muscles. When I'm done I grit my teeth and shut the hot water off. I breathe deeply as I force myself to stand under the ice cold spray for a full minute to try and avoid any additional muscle pain tomorrow morning.

I try not to dwell on work matters as I slip on my clothes. That day at work was the start of a downfall. It was almost impossible to keep my head above water when I no longer cared. Even at my worst, I generally had one shred of hope, something to hold onto that made me want to try to keep going. But I was lost and alone in those weeks. I no longer had Haymitch and Prim living with me and I had no friends in State 11. No one to knock on my door and demand I get my shit together. It was just me.

I knew this was coming. I've talked about triggers with my psychologist. He warned me, I warned myself that this would happen. But by the time you actually need to address the situation your brain is already working against you. Producing the wrong chemicals, forming the wrong connections.

I stopped going to my appointments. I stopped running. I stopped making conversations at work. Yeah, I knew it would come to this. I slam the front door to my apartment breathing heavily. The weight of anxiety in my chest is awful, unyielding. Tears stream down my cheeks and I visibly shake. I can't remember any of my calming techniques or even dredge up the willpower to employ them. I sink to the floor and grasp my knees as I cry into them. I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to be here. I don't want to try to get better.

It's too hard and I'm out of energy.

It doesn't matter that I have a report due next week. It doesn't matter that Finnick and Annie's wedding is in three weeks. It doesn't matter that I was going to go and start to repair some of the damage I'd left behind after college. Nothing matters.

I can't think straight as I continue to cry on the floor. All I can think about is how I want the pain to stop. All I want is that god-awful feeling in my chest to go away. To not feel so hopeless, so lost. But it doesn't go away, I learned. It always comes back.

A moment of clarity comes to me when I realize I know an easy way to stop the pain. I draw myself up to a standing position and make a beeline for the bathroom where I know the anti-depressants are sitting. All I have to do is take too many. I've seen it on T.V. Read it on discussions forums. Then everything will cease.

I fling the medicine cabinet open and grab two bottles. There's too much adrenaline pumping through me, shaking my hands violently, to adequately get past the child lock on the caps. The bottles fall, still closed, into the sink as I let out a small scream.

"Fuck!" I shriek and slam my fists against the cabinet. Glass shatters and falls to the sink and around my feet. Bright red blood springs forth from my hands, slowly at first, until it wells up and trickles down my hands. I derive a strange pleasure from watching the blood flow and feeling physical pain to combat the tornado of emotional pain thrumming through me. I know another way to stop the pain, I realize. I spy a large jagged shard of glass that's fallen into the cabinet's shelf. Perfect. I reach for it and that's when I see it, the manila envelope sitting at the back of the cabinet. My lifeline. I remember placing it there a long time ago when I knew if I was in a crisis I would go for the bottles. When I knew I would not be able to think rationally about this decision. When I knew Prim and Haymitch couldn't instantly come to my rescue. When I knew I didn't really want to die, I realized with a start.

Do I really want to die?

I tear it open roughly and tip its contents onto the tiles. The first page is the most important. In big, red block letters it says CALL 911. Underneath are Prim, Haymitch and Gale's numbers. The second page is a toolkit where I've written- when I was in a better state of mind – what I feel like in a crisis and the best ways to calm me down. I know I have to read this after I place the call. And the third is a photograph; of me Gale, Prim and Haymitch to remind me of what is worth living for and to remind me of better times.

I abandon the glass and the anti-depressants and place the call. I let them take me away. And it's only when I'm calm again do I realize what's happened. How I've become the person I've spent my life trying not to be.

I've become my mother.

I sigh and stare at my reflection in the mirror.

It was too obvious. I had so many signs even back in college and I ignored it all. Said I wouldn't turn out like her. I used to hate her with almost everything in me for killing herself. And it was only after that incident that the hatred dissipated and I understood to some extent what she'd gone through.

"You're better now," I tell myself and shake off the memory. That was the lowest of the lows. I stayed in the hospital for three weeks and I missed the wedding. The other day Peeta accused me of missing it because I didn't care. Maybe because I didn't want to see him. I chose to let him believe I'm that cold hearted because I don't know how to explain the truth to him.

I stare at the mirror again and remind myself I'm happy at who is looking back. I fix my hair and add a touch makeup. It's silly and trivial but it's control and it makes me feel better.

"It's going to be alright."

000

"Coffee?"

I raise my head and look at Jo disbelievingly. "Have I ever said no?"

She smirks at me. "Dumb question."

I look back down as my phone pings again with another text from Gale. Don't laugh at me! It was the worst date I've ever had.

What happened? I type back, grinning at his dating woes as Johanna places a mug in front of me.

I took her to a steakhouse. She's vegetarian. I backed into a pole when I was driving her home and got rejected when I tried to kiss her.

I can't help it, I burst out laughing. Jo looks up, startled by my outburst.

"What's so funny?"

I try to quieten my snickers. "Just Gale's sorry excuse for a dating life."

She sniggers and leans her arms on the table. "How is Mr. Hawthorne?"

I roll my eyes at the way she says his name. "Same old. He's travelling a lot on business."

"Hmm, hunky business man. That's something I could go for. Does he ever come to Seven?"

I look up from my phone to settle a glare on her. "Watch it, Mason." I warn her.

She laughs and holds up her hands in surrender. "Calm your tits, Everdeen. Why are you so protective of him anyway?"

"He's my friend." I say simply. "I care about him. And I'd rather you didn't fuck him."

She considers this then says, "How did you go back to being friends so easily?"

I sigh, remembering our friends with benefits arrangement that soon turned into a one sided love affair and ended with a broken heart. I go to say a witty quip, something to silence her and keep the mood light but all that comes from my mouth is a sad testimony, "It was easy, actually. I was fucking crazy he didn't have a choice to be anything other than a friend really."

I'm frustrated when the air in the kitchen turns sombre. "You weren't crazy," she admonishes softly.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't healthy."

I hear footsteps echo through the hall and even after not seeing him for three years I can tell without a doubt it's Peeta. I tense slightly, wondering if he will sit with us since I'd been more or less the plague to him recently. He surprises me however when he walks past, his voice light and airy, and continues out to the back landing with his phone. The rain still hasn't fallen today but there's many hours left for that to happen. I'm staring at his back through the kitchen window when Johanna says something.

"What?" I look at her expectantly.

"I asked if you've made any progress with Peeta."

My eyes flit to the back landing again. "What kind of progress am I meant to be making, Jo? He hates me. In fact it was my intention for him to hate me," I admit bitterly. "He's not going to forgive me, I'm just going to have to deal with it."

She takes a deep breath. "I think you two need to talk to each other."

"Why?" I ask, my eyes drifting closed briefly.

She stares me down for a few seconds before she steels herself and leans forward across the table. "Hear me out, okay?"

I nod and lean forward although I know I'm not going to like what I hear.

"You two need closure." Not even two seconds go by before I open my mouth but she holds up a hand. "You said you'd hear me out. Look we've all watched your relationship with Peeta fall apart in front of our eyes. And we've all watched you two move on as well. But there's still something…I don't know…something wrong in each of you. And I think that you're both harbouring this repressed anger at each other. And that might have been fine when you were both halfway across the country but now the floodgates have been reopened and I can see it's killing both of you. Peeta needs to understand what happened to you and you need him to know the truth."

God, I hate it when she is right. I let my head fall into my hands, my elbows braced against the table. "If we talk I have to tell him that Finnick lied. I don't want to hurt him like that, he's already struggling so much."

"He needs to know, Katniss. And he's been doing better these last few days."

"He probably won't even listen to me." I tell her, tracing the patterns of the table's woodgrain with my eyes.

"He'll listen." She says without an ounce of doubt.

It's quiet for a moment. I try to think of how I could even go about explaining everything to Peeta. I'm scared for not only him but also for me. He hates me now but that's originally what I had wanted. I was in control of that. If I talk to him I'll lose control of the situation and I'm scared he'll hate me further.

"Do you still love him?" Jo's abnormally quiet voice breaks the silence.

I jerk my head up and stare at her. Finnick asked something similar before he died and I told him no. He didn't believe me. I'm not sure I believed me. But staring at Jo I know the answer is written all over my face. I know it's obvious in the way my eyes track him across a room, how I listen out for his footsteps every morning or when my stomach flips when he accidently meets my gaze. But I can't say it out loud. For all the strength I've gained over the years this is still something that could so easily break me. Because admitting I love Peeta Mellark is suicide, because I know most certainly, he does not love me back.

I twirl the mug in my hands watching the remnants of my coffee swirl around, not giving her an answer. But I hear her chuckle just slightly and before she leaves the room mutters, "Dumb question."

I sit there for a while longer unable to rid Jo's words from my head. I'm still staring at my coffee when Peeta re-enters, seemingly surprised Johanna has left the room. I jump as the door swings shut and meet his gaze. Johanna's voice rings in my ears telling me I need to talk with him. Now is as good a time as any. He's relaxed and I'm guessing better rested than the days before. It's on the tip of my tongue, in the front of my mind. I can picture the very conversation I need to relay to him.

"I heard you want to transfer here to the Capitol." Finnick says out of the blue.

I stare at his face on the Skype window, startled. "Who told you that?"

"Prim." He grins.

My eyes narrow. "Why were you talking to Prim?"

He holds a hand against his heart and feigns hurt. "I'm not allowed to hang out with your sister?"

"You've never hung out with my sister." I say pointedly, staring at my calendar on the dining room table trying to find today's date in January.

He points his fork in my direction. "That is not true. I took her out for lunch last week."

I can't help but frown at him at a loss for words. "…Why?"

He shrugs and some of his bravado dissipates. "I wanted to make sure she moved in okay."

I feel a smile slowly creep onto my face. Prim had recently started med school in the Capitol, finally making the move out of State 12 I had wanted her to do for so long. I'm touched that Finnick even thought of her, offered to help her.

"Thanks, Finn." I smile. "And yes, I was considering transferring to the Capitol. My position would be better over there and I could be closer to Prim which would be better for both of us."

His head bobs up and down on the screen as he munches on what I think is a carrot stick. "I think it's a great idea."

"Do you now?" I ask suspiciously.

"Yeah, I mean we're all here. Me, Annie, Prim….and Peeta."

I stiffen at his name. "Don't start this again, Finnick."

"I'm not starting anything." He holds his hands up in surrender.

"Really? Because it seems were two seconds away from your spouting your speech about how Peeta is not the same, how you don't think he's happy despite the fact he got engaged! And that I was the only one who made him happy and I should just traipse back into his life like I never did any fucking thing wrong!"

I've rendered him speechless. He does glare at me through the computer screen though. "That's not what I said."

"It pretty much was."

"He is different, Katniss. He's not happy, he thinks he's happy but I can see the difference. You know the only time when I've seen him truly happy? It was with you. And you can repeat all the shit that happened during the time you knew him all you want but it's the truth!"

I refuse to fall into this trap Finnick is trying to create. He's confused, he doesn't know what he's talking about. "Why the fuck would you help him buy an engagement ring Finnick if what you said is true? Don't you think, as his friend, you should've – I don't know? – talked to him about his girlfriend!"

"And what was I supposed to say, Katniss?"

"Anything!" I shake my head at him. "You're living in a dream, Finnick. It's been nearly three years I can't go back to him. You're the one that helped him move on. And even if I did how are you going to explain the fact that you have told him for the past 2 years that you don't know where I am yet you Skype and visit me? You've been lying to him!"

"I was protecting him! You know why we had to do it!" Yeah I heard about their little pact. The pact that said neither Johanna, Annie or Finnick would talk about me to Peeta or Peeta to me. Of course that went up in flames and now we're in the centre of a tornado of lies. "We thought things would start to get better at the wedding but then - "

I laugh, well it's more a shriek and stare at the screen disbelievingly. "Yeah and I fucked it up right? My suicide plans put everything out of whack!"

I can see his face immediately pale and I know he'll attempt to backpedal. "Katniss - "

"Save it. I'm moving to the Capitol but I'm not going anywhere near Peeta Mellark. It's better for the both of us."

I slam my laptop lid shut and press the heels of my hands against my eyes. But I can't get it out of my head why Finnick would suggest something so outrageous if it wasn't the tiniest bit true.

All I have to do is take a deep breath and say the words. I open my mouth but nothing comes out. He looks at me questioningly. "What?"

And I can't do it. For all I took away 3 years ago, I can't take away more. I can't tarnish his memory of Finnick when Finnick isn't around to defend his actions.

"Nothing." I smile tightly and the quickly scamper from the room.

He doesn't need to know. I can suffer on my own.

000

I was right when I said the rain would come. That night it began to pour again. The wind howled through the trees and I was concerned to level in which they bent to the wind. We all watched silently through the windows in the lounge for longest time, admiring the power of a storm so foreign to State 4.

"It has to stop sometime soon, doesn't it?" Annie mutters, "It's been days."

"You'd think," responds Johanna, "but it just seems to be getting worse."

"Strange." I whisper it so quietly I'm unsure if anyone even hears it.

We sit like that for hours, passing around small bits of conversation, but mainly remaining silent listening to the wind, rain and thunder each trapped in our own worlds. And for how horrible the weather, for how awful the reason we're in the house to start with, I'm somewhat comforted sitting with my old loved ones, huddled in the lounge room watching the weather unleash it's wrath on us. But I know it won't last long because by morning the tension will rise again as we continue to keep secrets from one another.

A/N: Hello my lovely readers, I hope you are all still here. I'm sorry for my absence, I never intended to take a hiatus but well...stuff happens. I hope you enjoyed reading x