The ACTUAL Final Book of The Hunger Games Series: Risen

Peeta.... "Help! Peeta!" I scream. "Please!" I am tied on a chair, sitting in it though, and my hands are roped aganist the arms of it. I feel a warmth brushing aganist my neck, and I wake up out of the blood curdling dream. "Shhh," Peeta whisper as his lips brush aganist my ear.

"Peeta," I tell him the dream and he half laughs. This is actually one of the first times he's laughed in a year or two. He has escaped the Capitol after being tortured for over months, and he's survived two outrageous Hunger Games. They are discontinuing the Hunger Games for Districts, and now, they use the innocent Capitol children who have laughed at our deaths, which now, we'll laugh at theirs. Easy and simple. There is no President for as far as I know. But I regret watching the television in these months because they are, the months of the Hunger Games. I escape from watching them this year because of Prim. Even though I asked for Hunger Games with Capitol children, it just feels wrong. Very wrong, indeed.

"Peeta," I repeat. "We cannot watch the Games this year!" I cry out to him, desperately wanting some comforting. And surprisingly, I get a total of zero precent. "Hold me" is all I manage to say before I burst into defective tears. "She's dead, Peeta, she is dead!" I whisper in between my cries. Peeta's arms wrap around me steadily, and I am unafraid to realize Prim is actually never coming back to me. Ever. And I push myself away from that fact quickly and say,"I'm okay. I'm okay." And I at Peeta. He shakes his head. "No." He replies. "We won't. I promise." But even so, part of me says that I should watch these Games.

I get up slightly, to stretch my hands above my head to wake myself up just a bit more. "Are you going to be okay today in the woods?" Peeta asks me as I pull on my boots and braid my hair back. "I... yeah. I'll be fine, Peeta," I assure him. Peeta nods and kisses my slightly burned cheek. "I'll make us some bread to spare the time.Be safe, Katniss," I nod my head and walk out the doorway.

Everyone is still suffering. Actually, we might be suffering more than ever. In the past week, I have heard that seventeen people died, mostly newborns, though. Gale is gone. Buttercup died last week, on Prim's birthday.

I cried like crazy that day, because that was the last 'Prim' I had. When I close my eyes, I don't see Prim. I see Rue.

But then, I open my eyes. I refuse to remember Rue, my little ally from District Eleven, who knew the mockingjay call. The four simple notes. I whistle it aloud and hear them reply the short melody softly. "Hahaahah," Rue would sing it. I cannot sing for my life. Or at least, I thought I couldn't until that one day when Peeta was recovering in our hospital, I sung 'The Hanging Tree' aloud. The birds, mockingjays, specifically, stopped singing on my third verse. MOCKINGJAY. The word 'mocking' in its name. It had stopped mocking.

I looked up and saw a rabbit digging a hole in the ground near a tree stump. I took out an arrow and the rabbit stopped moving to sense me, and I shot the rabbit quickly while it didn't have the chance. And after that, I caught 2 squirrels. A real good hunting day, I thought. And when I had turned around, a figure stood recognizable, but I couldn't place the name on too quick. Gale. That figure was the amazing Gale Hawthorne.

Chapter Two

Gale and I talked and ate and he gave me a handcrafted bow he made himself. When we parted and I was home, Peeta had 3 breads baking. The television was on and beeping, about some new President or something. So I walked past that and.. wait... new President?! No!

Peeta held me in my lap as we found out.

It read: NEW PRESIDENT TAMELA SNOW VOTED PRESIDENT TODAY. THIS YEAR, THE HUNGER GAMES WILL PROCEED WITH A MAXIMUM OF ONE YOUNG FEMALE AND ONE YOUNG MALE, OFFERED UP FOR THE SACRIFICE. DISTRICTS MUST ALSO OFFER UP A YOUNGLING FROM EITHER GENDER TO BE PUBLICLY EXECUTED WHEN THE GAMES ARE WON. ANYONE TO REFUSE OR COME AGANIST WILL BE PUBLICLY EXECUTED. IN MEMORY OF CORNIELLIUS SNOW.