Chapter 5

As soon as I hear the mining accident siren wail, I'm jolted out of my happy thoughts and my heart stops. After the inclination of the alarm sets in, I immediately drop the groosling I was gutting for dinner onto the dust-covered counter and hurriedly grab my coat. I completely forgetting about shoes or gloves, and run along with other families from the seam, who are wearing just about as much clothing as I am. A coat here and there, a few people with mismatched shoes, and a pair of gloves or two. We're frantic in our running to reach our husbands, sons, and brothers. I run from our house in the seam, tripping and falling in the uneven ground, cursing myself for forgetting shoes in my frantic haste of getting to the mine, only thinking that I must reach him. To see if he's safe. He must be safe.

I reach the mine, and I see that peacekeepers have roped off the entire entrance. I absently rub my hands, wishing that I could afford a pair of gloves as my hands are freezing, almost numb now from the cold. Families are streaming in at a rapid rate. I take in a chilly breath as my mind finally formulates the conclusion that this was my husband's mine that was affected.

A crowd has gathered in front. I push my way through them, stumbling, desperate to reach him, my husband, my confidant, my lover. I accidently bump into some, earning me some choice words, while one man glowers at me, clutching his elbow. But I don't care. All I see is his face, yearning at me to reach him. Just a little farther.

I reach the rope, clutch it, and look eagerly into the entrance to the mine. A peacekeeper stands behind the rope, and tells me that I must stay back, and that I can't get past this rope. I clutch the rope in front of me in despair perhaps to steady myself as I feel like I am about to keel over, when suddenly I glance up and see, or rather hear an elevator making its way back to the surface. It's carrying rescued miners from that underground pit of terror and hell. I lean forward eagerly, and look at the faces of the miners, trying to catch their eyes, but not recognizing any of them. They all look the same with a thick layer of coal dust covering their skin. None of them respond to me, and rush into the crowd to be engulfed by eagerly awaiting, laughing, crying, sobbing family members. I look at them enviously, hatred boiling through my veins and hot tears threatening to spill out at any moment.

"He'll be on the next one." I think, attempting to calm down and turn back to entrance to the mine. "He will come back to me and to our children." "Mother?" a small, frightened voice asks me tentatively, shocking me out of my own self-absorbed thoughts. Katniss. My stomach tightens as I look at her. She looks so much like her father, with her dark hair and grey eyes that mark her as one from the seam.

"What's going on?" Another asks. This time it's Primrose. She clutches Katniss' hand in fear, blond head tiled upwards, staring up at me with her wide, frightened blue eyes. My eyes.

I slowly let my gaze travel from the entrance to the mine, down to my daughters, looking at me earnestly, fear and terror evident on their young, innocent faces. What's going on? I honestly have no idea what's going on, but before I can formulate a decent response to my waiting children, I blurt out "I don't know." My voice slightly cracking.

The afternoon wears on, and as time passes, none of the elevators bring up my husband. Before, the elevators would bring miners up, unload them, shoot back down, and then shoot right back up again, filled to the brim, men squished and pushed against each other in the small space. I shiver slightly, thinking myself a fool for the second time today for not bringing shoes, or a hat. I look over to my children, and see they're being wracked with violent shivers. I take off my coat, shivering slightly as its welcome warmth slides off my body and place around my children. They let out a sigh as the coat covers them, and Prim ever so slightly leans against Katniss' shoulder and starts to nod off.

Afternoon turns into evening, and he still has not made an appearance. An elevator finally comes creaking up out of the earth, after more than forty minutes underground, with just a meagre two passengers aboard. Somehow, I know that this is the last elevator. There are not many of us left here, waiting, wishing, and wondering. Just us, the Hawthornes, and at least several other families that I do not recognize.

The director of the coal mine approaches us from the other side of the rope, covered in coal dust. My heart is clenching, hardening, trying to cushion the blow of what I ultimately know is coming. He gathers all us families that are left together and finally lets us know what I know we've all been dreading.

"I'm terribly sorry"

Oh dear god, please no. Not in front of my children. I move to cover Katniss' ears, since Primrose is sleeping beside me on her lap. She moves my hands away, and looks up at the director's face, her eyes searching for any sort of positive statement hidden there. I know with a heavy heart that she will find none.

"There were no more survivors that we were able to locate. It seems as though the entire rest of the team was completely blown up."

My eyes start to water, and then I focus again on the rest of what he is saying.

"There will be no bodies for you to bury."

"No". I think silently to myself as I clutch the rope that's holding me back. I start to sob uncontrollably, and I hear screams of sadness mixed in and realize that that god-awful sound is coming from me. Tears are leaving my eyes at such a rapid pace I feel as though I'm being dunked in a sea of ice and salt. My tears. "No. no no no... no. Just no. He can't be gone. He… he just can't. He can't possibly have left me here, alone, with no-one to comfort me" I think between sobs and screams. My poor, poverty-ridden body becomes wracked with violent sobs, and I sink to the ground, not caring if I get trampled or trod on. Katniss picks me up off the ground, sighing, her eyes brimming with tears. They lead me home, Katniss and Primrose, un-tuck my bed sheets, and shove me back under the quilts, clothes and all.

I am consumed in my grief, sobbing for days on end, waking only to see the sad face of my daughter Primrose attempting to rouse me out of my deep and utter depression. I mumble something in reply, and with a heavy heart roll onto my other side and attempt to fall asleep again. I try again to slip deeper and deeper into unconsciousness. I hear once sentence that sends a stab of pain running through my chest when I hear it, as is whispered to me between the bed sheets, our bed sheets.

"Goodnight my darling. I love you."