Better Games

20. our fault

Warning: mentions of Katniss attempting to harm herself in mockingjay after the execution of president snow.

———

I hesitantly walked downstairs, fearing the conversation I had to have with Peeta. No, not because Peeta would get upset but simply because I had to speak his name.

Gale.

I hadn't spoken to him since I left the Capitol. I hadn't heard from him since I sent him away: when I was trapped in Snow's mansion, waiting to rid the world of its oppressor, and to finally free myself from the pain he caused me.

Peeta stopped me from going through with the second part though. My saving grace was whisking away in the kitchen, unbeknownst to the meltdown this one piece of paper had just caused me. But I needed him to know. I didn't know what else to do besides tell him. 

"Peeta I- I got a letter from," I started as I stood in the entry way of the kitchen. He looked up at me, he sense my struggle and knew immediately something was wrong.

"Katniss?" he asked worriedly.

"District Two," was all I could muster as I handed him the letter. I didn't care if he got it covered in flour from whatever he was baking today. It was already covered in smudges, tear stained.

I waited as he read it, catching my breathe as his eyes scanned the page. He unconsciously set his whisk on the counter. By the time he was done he looked up at me, staring at the tears I knew had escaped my eyes.

"Katniss," was all he said.

Tears started to stream down my face at a faster pace as I thought of my little sister. The sister I had lost because of Gale. The sister I had lost because...because of me. I didn't want to speak to him I didn't want to hear his apologies especially when it reminded me of what was before. I had a friend, I had a sister. Two things that were long gone now.

I didn't notice I was sobbing until I felt Peeta wrap his arms around me from behind. He must've walked around the counter while I wasn't paying attention, blinded by grief and my watery eyes. As soon as he had me in his grasp my knees buckled and at once he was supporting all my weight. He half walked half carried me to the couch where I curled up into his arms, my clothes now covered in flour where his hands held me close.

"Katniss I'm so sorry."

He let me cry for a few more minutes until I settled down and caught my breathe. It was a while before I finally came to and noticed he had been stroking my hair. I moved my head from under his chin and looked up at him.

"He killed her. I let him kill her," I whispered.

"Katniss you didn't know. How could you have known," he said.

"The bomb. The trap. The luring. The delayed explosion. I heard him make it I watched him make the plans and I let him," I spouted, disgusted.

"You didn't know Katniss."

"If I ate the berries it would've been me. Not her."

"Katniss listen to me. If you ate the berries children would still be dying in the Hunger Games. If not you or Prim then someone's little sister, someone's older brother. Or better yet Prim's children, and their children, and their children," he reasoned.

"And yet she's not here. Is she!" I yelled. I wasn't angry at Peeta I was angry at Gale. At myself. At Snow. No matter how comfortable we got, no matter what bit of happiness we found Snow still crept his way into this life we've been trying to build for ourselves. He reminded me of the blood on my hands, my broken friendships, my broken self. And Gale's letter had done nothing but shove this painful truth in my face.

And yet a small part of me missed the remnant of the friend I had, the friend I lost.

I hated him.

I missed him.

He killed my sister.

I killed my sister.

I couldn't separate my anger for Gale with my anger for myself, for the game I played and the price my sister paid. And all I did was yell at the man holding me together in our shared living room.

"I know you're angry Katniss. Angry at what he did and at yourself," Peeta broke my silent reverie, repeating my thoughts, "and how can anyone ask you to forgive the unforgivable, to forget something that cannot be forgotten, to get past the greatest source of misery in your life?

But you don't have to do that, to do any of that, my love. Gale is sorry, and you've known him longer than I have and you probably know his sincerity and the depth of his sentiments better than I do. But even so, no one is asking you to pick up the pieces and pretend nothing happened. Leave the letter, put it away, but give yourself time. Time to breathe, to grow. I'll always be here to hold you, to help you on your off days, to make you food when you miss her so much you feel numb."

He leaned down to kiss my cheek as I stared at him. He touched his forehead to mine.

"It took us time to put ourselves back together. We're still putting ourselves back together day by day, piece by piece. If this is where you fall apart then we start over, but don't let your anger for him, for you, for Snow stop you from getting through this with me. I'm here. I'll always be here. It's okay."

I let Peeta's sure and strong words talk me off my ledge of despair. Gale might be ready to put one foot forward but I was not. Even though the young grieving girl in the woods hunting to keep her family alive still ached, though it was a small ache, for the friend who cared after my sister, for the smile he reserved only for Prim when he brought back her earnings from the Hobb after selling her goat milk, I still struggled to have peace. What a tragedy, what a betrayal. I couldn't sit and decipher my hate for him and the grief of losing the two people dearest to me. I could only sit in Peeta's embrace, letting his comforting words wash over me like a flood.

Today was not the day I would forgive Gale. It wasn't even the day I could figure out if I wanted to. Today I would only let Peeta hold me.

Peeta put the letter in one of my drawers that evening, hoping one day I would come back to it, resolved.