Katniss

"Do you love him?"

A smile creeps on my lips as I take a baby blue ribbon and weave it into the blonde braid in my hands. Prim never was one for discretion; instead she often just blurted out whatever was on her mind. I don't offer an answer, though. I just finish the first braid, lacing the ribbon around the end and tie it in a small bow before picking up the other half of her hair.

"Because it's okay if you do," she continues, hardly bothered by my silence. She looks down at Buttercup, the detestable cat currently invading her lap with his hideous yellow fur, and strokes his back slowly. I grab a dandelion I'd found the day before, as I was walking through the Meadow with Gale—who'd decided to make it a routine every Sunday—and carefully tuck it into the second braid, draping her hair over her shoulder.

"What makes you say that?" I ask finally, turning her shoulders towards me so I can brush any loose strands of hair behind her ear. I'm not just humoring her this time; I genuinely want to know. Maybe because I'm too uncertain myself of whether or not I love Gale. I'll never know if I loved Peeta—I'm not going to go through that again.

She picks Buttercup off her lap and cradles him in her arms like a baby, but her attention is directed at me. "Well," she says slowly, as if she thinks I might not be able to handle it. In truth, I may not, but I need to know anyways. "I know he loves you. And I know you only talk to me and to him. You don't even talk to Hazelle anymore!" I open my mouth, ready to protest, but Buttercup hushes me with a low growl and I continue listening to my sister. "You spend every Sunday together in the Meadow. And…" she dips her head shyly for this last comment, getting up to leave for school as she adds, "he's the only one that wards off your nightmares now." Then she's gone.

I slump back into the kitchen chair, confused. Is it true? I know I don't talk to my mother anymore, unless it's got to do with Prim or with some medical care for my hands that I broke a few weeks ago—and even then it's a limited conversation, because I refuse to rely on her too much—but do I restrain my communication only to Prim and Gale? Spending every Sunday together is just part of Gale's plan to get things back on track. I'm not sure if I would count that as a sign that I could possibly love him, or be in love with him.

As for the nightmares…It's true that every morning I wake up, he's propped up against the wall by my bed, head to the side as he makes up for those lost hours during the night.

There's a knock on my door, which, honestly, I'm very surprised to hear. I stand up, smoothing out my nightgown and my hair before reaching for the doorknob. Outside, in the cold, stands a snow-covered blonde girl, her golden curls tied into a ponytail on either side of her head, just below her ears, which are covered in fuzzy disks I immediately recognize as earmuffs. She's shivering, but I find it hard to pity her when she's chosen to wear a thin fur coat, a white dress with golden buttons, and pale leggings. "Hi, Katniss," she says, her teeth chattering nonstop.

"Hey, Madge," I reply, waving her into the house. What is she doing here? I think, but not out of meanness. Isn't she supposed to be at school? She sits at the far end of one of our plush sofas, sinking in as she stretches out her hands towards the fireplace. I sit across from her, on another sofa, eyeing her carefully. We haven't spoken in months, ever since I came back from the Quarter Quell. I can't tell if I've been avoiding her, or if it's been the other way around. Maybe a bit of both. I ask finally, "What brings you here?"

She shuts her eyes and digs through the hidden pocket in her fur coat, finally fishing out a small green envelope. "This is from our class," she tells me quietly, handing it over. "Don't open it yet." With that, she stands up, quickly kisses me on the cheek, and heads back out. I stare at the envelope, trying to resist the urge to open it, and instead tuck it underneath the cushion she was sitting on.

Gale is in the mines, working, and Prim is at school the whole day. Instead of being idle for the seven hours until she comes back, I decide to work on what Prim had said, the thing about me only speaking to her and Gale. I quickly change into a pair of thick, wintertime hunting pants, a white wool shirt, and the white fur coat Cinna had given me for last year's Victory Tour.

Cinna. At the memory, I run my fingers through the fur, pulling on a pair of leather gloves. I wonder how he's holding up. The few times Portia and I spoke on the phone, she told me he was slowly getting better, but the Peacekeepers had hurt him a lot, so he wasn't expected to return to work for a few more months. Meaning Portia would take over his stylist duties for this year's tour.

I lace up my boots, brace myself, and head outside. Thankfully, only a light snow is falling. I slowly make my way past the other Seam houses, until I've reached the Hawthorne place. I stand outside for a minute, eyeing the cold stone structure and the slight smoke coming out of the chimney, before knocking.

My mother opens the door, much to my surprise. Usually she stayed put in our old house in the Seam, until Prim got home from school and they both walked over to Hazelle's. I can tell she's startled to see me, too. "Katniss," she gasps, opening the door a bit wider. She pulls me in through the doorway before I have the chance to leave. Oh, well, I think to myself, sitting across from her at the kitchen table. I might as well talk to her, while I'm here. But talk about what? It's gotten increasingly obvious that we don't see eye to eye anymore. Still, it's worth a shot.

"Thank you for fixing up my hands," I mumble, holding them up in what I hope is a grateful gesture. She smiles a tight-lipped smile at me before drinking some of the mint tea sitting before her. I take the hint and walk over to Hazelle's cupboards, picking out a small ceramic mug and pouring some tea for myself. I sit back at the table, sipping the tea as we both struggle to think of something to say.

Finally, my mother speaks up. "When was the last time you went hunting?" she asks and there's a cold, hard edge to her voice, as if the question is somehow incriminating.

I shrug, pretending to try to remember. It's not that hard. I haven't gone hunting at all since I cam back from the 75th Games. "A while," I mutter evasively, picking at the chipped painting around the mug. I make a mental note to buy her a new one. "Why?"

She ignores my question and asks another one instead. "How come?" she demands, and I can definitely sense some bitterness in the way she asks me that.

I sit up straight, already in the defensive shell. "I couldn't just go hunting, Mom. You know that!" I answer just as angry as she sounds. "They turned on the fence. It's dangerous. Besides, Gale is providing for us, and we can afford to pay him back, to pay the butcher for some good beef."

She leans forward in her chair, eyes narrow. "That's not the only reason why," she whispers accusingly. A shiver runs down my spine as I realize what she's saying. "You have got to snap out of this, Katniss! Prim and I are worried sick about you!" Her voice has been rising as she tells me this, but then it drops down to a regular level. "Katniss, I know this is hard for you. It was hard for me, too, when your father died." I stiffen instinctively at the mention of his death, but she takes no note of it and instead continues. "I'm not asking you to forget him. I'm asking you to do what I couldn't, and stay strong. You have many more people to disappoint than I had when it happened to me. Think." I lower my gaze, but she gently lifts my chin, forcing me to stare into her blue merchant eyes. "Think, Katniss. Peeta wanted you to come back. Is this how you think he would've liked you to live the rest of your life?"

By then, I'm completely numb, as her words strike a nerve in my mind. No, this isn't how he would've liked me to live the rest of my life. He would've liked me to live on happily, maybe marry Gale in the end, and start a family. At the very least, let him go.

Walking back to my house in the Victor's Village, I think about what my mother said. It's not fair for me to have accused her of completely blanking out on us after my father's death, only to do the same thing six years later because of Peeta. I'll be strong, I think, determined.

I reach the door, and just decide to finally be honest to myself. Just not yet.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you so much for reviewing! I wake up today and read all the reviews and I squealed like a little girl! And sorry for the long chapter, I wanted to include Madge and Mrs. Everdeen's little speech.