Chapter Text
Chapter 1:
Katniss
Sleep. Eat. Repeat.
That has been my routine since returning to District 12. I could go without the eating part, but Greasy Sae and Haymitch seem determined to keep me alive. I hear one of them moving around the kitchen now, and it takes every ounce of strength I have not to groan. I don’t want them to know I’m awake. If I pretend to be asleep, they will leave breakfast by the bedroom door, and I can get away with avoiding everyone until at least dinner.
The room is dim, and I look out the window to see gray clouds covering the sky. It fits my mood. My eyes graze over the room. There’s clothes piled up in every corner. The pictures on my dresser are all facing down. Greasy Sae brought them in one morning, hoping they would bring me out of one of my episodes. They didn’t work. Seeing the faces of everyone I’ve let down just made it worse. Prim. Finnick and Annie. Peeta. So many picture of Peeta.
I look to my nightstand. There’s one picture I couldn’t bring myself to avoid. It’s from the Quarter Quell on the beach. The last time I really had Peeta with me. My fingers reach out to brush over his face. Overwhelming loneliness washes over me. I miss Peeta.
The sound of a plate crashing to the ground lets me know my babysitter this morning is Haymitch. Relief floods my body. He is much less likely to try and force me out of bed and into the bath. Greasy Sae will be here for dinner though, so the relief will be short lived. I hear Haymitch’s heavy footsteps on the stairs, and I slam my eyes shut.
“I know you ain’t sleeping, Sweetheart.” He says, pushing his way into the bedroom and placing the tray on the bed. “Don’t you think this act is getting a little old?”
I squeeze my eyes shut harder, willing him away. The bed shifts as he sits down, and I realize he must be sober this morning. He only pushes when he’s sober. He smells like lavender soap. Something Effie sent him I’m sure. It reminds me of Prim, and my stomach turns.
When I close my eyes, I see Prim’s face. The way she had turned to look at me in surprise in her final moments. I’ve thought over the scenario thousands of times by now. I think of every different way I could have saved her. I should have saved her. I give my head a shake and turn my attention back to Haymitch.
“You run out of alcohol? If you leave me alone, I will tell Dr. Aurelius that it is vital to my healing and get you a whole shipment.” I grumble, my eyes still shut.
Haymitch sighs. “No more alcohol for me and no more sleeping for you. We need to heal.”
I snort. “You must be talking to Effie again.”
Haymitch and Effie have found a fragile friendship since we’ve returned to Twelve. They talk every day. It usually ends with one of them hanging up on the other, but it brings me comfort to know Haymitch isn’t facing this new world alone. I’m not much company after all.
“Eat. Don’t eat. I don’t really care, Sweetheart. But, there’s someone coming back here who will.”
My eyes fling open at that, and I feel like cold water has been doused over my body. He can’t mean Peeta. I will never see Peeta again. He has to be talking about my mother or maybe even Gale. Though, I don’t know why he would think I care what Gale or my mother think about me. They’ve both betrayed me, then abandoned me. Their opinions don’t matter.
Gale might argue on the abandonment part, but I’d say that Gale and I lost each other long before Prim’s death. He was fighting a war, and I was fighting to keep myself and everyone I loved alive. We had different agendas. I don’t even know if I’m angry with him anymore. All I feel is subtle indifference. If there’s anything about Gale I miss, it’s the boy in the woods before that first reaping. But, Gale will never be that boy again, and I’ll never be that girl. There’s no use in dwelling on it.
Haymitch leaves the room without an explanation as to who is coming back, and it is almost enough to get me out of bed. Almost. For all I know, he’s baiting me to get up and follow him. There’s no one coming back to Twelve. He just doesn’t want to admit he’s the one who is worried about me. We’ve never been much for sentimental words.
I push the breakfast tray on the floor, but the sound of the bowls clattering over and spilling on the floor don’t bring me the satisfaction I was after. Then, comes the guilt. Greasy Sae will have to clean it up when she comes by. I already have enough to feel guilty for. I don’t need to add this to it. I peel myself out of bed and the sheets stick to my sweaty skin, the byproduct of my nightmares. I make myself go into the bathroom. I don’t look in the mirror, but I splash some water on my face. I don’t turn on the light, preferring to live life in the grey haze of the day.
I force myself to tiptoe down the stairs, careful not to let my eyes fall on any one thing for very long. Primrose hides in every corner of this haunted house. If I look in any one place for too long, I’ll see her.
I find a bucket on the kitchen counter and fill it with water, not bothering to check the temperature. It will clean regardless. I find a towel near the sink and look around the kitchen. It’s cold and lifeless. Grey light from outside filters in and paints the room in hues of blue. It matches my mood.
My hand brushes over the kitchen table. Memories of Gale and Prim and my mother flash through my mind. I shake my head, willing them away before retreating back to my room. The only place in the house I’m safe. The only place where only my nightmares can hurt me.
I rush back up the stairs, careful not to look into the room across the hall from mine. I can’t stand to think of the dust that’s gathered over everything Prim ever owned. Maybe one day I will be able to will myself to go in there. Today is not that day. I scramble into my room and shut the door behind me, leaning my back against it.
The oatmeal Haymitch made for me is scattered all over the floor, and Buttercup sits on the hardwood floor lapping it up. I use my arm to shoo him away, and he hisses at me. I don’t have the energy to argue back to him, so I just keep scrubbing. Before long he comes back over, bumping his head against my legs. I reach out a hand and run it over his fur. He purrs slightly before darting back under the bed. We’ve found a slight friendship in our mutual misery. He’s the only living thing around here who doesn’t force me to be a person, and for that, I’m eternally grateful.
After the floor is clean, I don’t feel the normal urge to fall back in bed. My muscles ache, and I struggle to remember the last time I spent more than a few minutes out of bed. I try not to think about that as I head downstairs. Desperate to be out of the house but no where to go, I resort to what I know best. The woods. There’s comfort there I convince myself, even though I don’t know if that’s true.
I push my feet into my leather boots and I slide my father’s hunting jacket over my shoulders. It’s looser than before. I refuse to look in mirrors anymore. It didn’t end well the last time I did, but I imagine that I’ve lost a substantial amount of weight. None of my clothes fit anymore. I don’t tie my hair back into a braid like I used to. I don’t know if I’ll ever wear my hair like that again. I don’t want to think about it.
I find my bow propped up by the door. I imagine Haymitch put it there. He knew one day I would find some sort of strength to do something other than rot. The weight of it is heavy in my hands. I try not to think about all the things I’ve done with a bow. I sling it over my shoulder and see Finnick’s face flash in my mind. I push it away.
I trudge quietly out of Victor’s Village. I know I should tell someone where I’m going, but I don’t want to give Haymitch the satisfaction, and I don’t want to bother Greasy Sae, so I make a deal with myself to be back my dinner. No one even has to know I left. It’s probably best they don’t. I don’t want anyone’s hopes up that this changes anything. It doesn’t.
The ground is softening. The first sign of Spring falling on District Twelve. I don’t know how long we’ve been home. Long enough for the air to still be cold, but the snow to have melted. If I had to guess, it’s been a few months. The sun has started to peak out from behind the clouds as I move forward. I can’t bring myself to head towards the Seam or what remains of town. Instead, I head the opposite direction toward the back of Victor’s Village. The fence is off. It doesn’t matter where I head into the woods at anymore.
I find myself out of breath by the time I reach the fence. I’m much less in shape than I have ever been in my life. But, the use of my muscles feels good, and the fresh air brings a clarity to my mind I haven’t felt in weeks. I hurry through the fence and into the tree line. I don’t know if I can bring myself to hunt for game. I don’t know if I can bring myself to kill anything ever again. But, still I keep my eyes and ears open.
I find my eyes searching for an old hiking path I am familiar with, but that makes me think of Gale, so I stop. I don’t want to think of Gale. I don’t really want to think of anything at all. The sun is high in the sky, but there’s still a late winter chill in the air. Spring used to bring me hope. Now, all it reminds me of is Prim. I don’t want to think of that either, so I decide I either focus on hunting or I head home. Home is full ghosts, so hunting it is.
By the time the sun is starting to set and I head back for the fence, I have two squirrels in hand. I’ll take them home and get them cleaned up then give one to Haymitch and one to Greasy Sae. The only form of thank you I know how to give.
As I draw closer to the entrance of Victor’s Village, I see a figure hunched over on the ground. My heartbeat quickens as I imagine stumbling among Haymitch having a heart attack or Greasy Sae. Neither of them are getting any younger. I pick up the pace, but once I see the back of the figure’s head, I stop dead in my tracks. I would recognize that sandy blonde hair anywhere.
“Peeta,” my voice cracks as the word tumbles out.
He stands and I see what he’s doing. Planting primrose. Tears threatening to fall from my eyes as they meet his. I search his for some sign of fear or hatred. There is none. They aren’t warm and full of love like they once were, but I don’t care. I throw my arms around his neck and squeeze tight. He stiffens for a second. It’s almost imperceptible, then he wraps his arms around my middle and squeezes back.
I grip onto him tighter convinced he’s just a hallucination. I’ve been known to have those a time or two. But he stays steady wrapped around me. I want to say everything and nothing at all at the same time. By the time I release him, I’m out of breath.
“I thought you’d like to have something to remember her by.” His words are barely a whisper, and he doesn’t meet my eyes. I wonder if he’s scared of me or my reaction.
My throat feels thick, but I just nod. We stand there, almost sizing each other up for a second. I don’t know how much of Peeta still wants to kill me, so I take a step back, creating some distance between us. For a moment, I think I see a flash of hurt cross his face, but I could be wrong. I could just want to see some sort of emotion coming from him.
When he speaks next, the tone of his voice is even and emotionless. “Dr. Aurelius asked me to remind you about your sessions. He can’t keep pretending to treat you.”
I nod my head, but I still don’t respond. We stay silent for a couple more beats, then he turns back to the flowers, signaling the moment is over.
“I’m glad you’re back.” I finally muster before turning away and heading up the walkway to the house. I force myself not to turn back, but I can feel his eyes on me.