The Epilogue - Katniss and Peeta

Nightmares and Letters.

*Katniss's POV*

I see the mutts tackling Finnick. He's screaming my name. But, I just stand there. I don't do anything, and that's why he's dead. Except this nightmare was different. It felt like I could hear Finnick talking to me after I had dropped the holo. It was like we were chatting over tea. I heard him talking about how he forgives me and how it isn't my fault. It was echoing through my head. I probably misheard him, he was most likely blaming me, because I know he'd never forgive me. I took him away from his child and his wife—who was already mentally unstable as it was.

I wake up with tears streaming down my face. I pull my knees to my face and cry into them. I'm so sorry, Finnick. I would've given anything to swap places with you.

I feel his arms encase me and I shutter at his touch. "You're okay, Katniss." He hushes me while rubbing my shoulder. I lean into his chest and he holds the back of my head. "It's just a nightmare." I nod quickly while trying to contain my breathing pattern. I feel as if I can't take in enough air, and the world seems to be swallowing me whole.

"If you need to talk about it, you can tell me." He says quietly. I have no intention of telling him about my nightmares. I'm scared they'll trigger one of his attacks. I have heard them a few times yet by the time I'm downstairs he's already snapped out of it. Another reason why I'll never be good enough for him, I can't even make it to help him. He helps me every night and I haven't been able to comfort him once. Maybe I should just do it. Leave and never come back. But that would only do good for me. And that would be selfish for Peeta, after everything he does for me.

I scramble out of the safety of his arms and stand up quickly. He gives me a confused look and I shake my head.
"I can't go back to sleep." I pause before moving towards the door. "I'll just take a shower instead." I close the door before he can respond and walk across the hall to the bathroom. As I enter the bathroom, I get a view of my reflection. I shutter as I turn my back towards the mirror.

How does he manage to look at me? The monster that I am is showing through me like I'm made of glass. I'm not a good person, I never will be. I've killed thousands of people. Including my friends and family. How does he forgive me? How can he possibly ever dare to be near me?

I'm snapped out of my thoughts by the cold water hitting my skin. The water feels smooth against my skin, like it somehow has the ability to wash away my sins. But it can't. And it won't. They're always going to be there. They've become a part of me, and I can't do anything to change it.

The pain and guilt overthrows me. I slowly press my back against the wall of the shower and slide down slowly. I bring my knees to my chest and I sit there, letting the water his my body. I feel tears begin to fill my eyes and slowly, one by one, they trickle out. I sniff as memories of all of the people I've killed fill my head. I hear a gentle knock on the door and I lift my head slightly.

"Are you okay, darling?" His voice is slightly muffled by the water hitting me.
"I'm fine." I say as my voice breaks on the end.
"Katniss, I know that's not true." He mutters. I watch through the glass of the shower and he walks into the bathroom and sits down on the floor outside of the shower. "What can I do for you?"
"Can you sit with me?" I ask quietly. He hands me a towel to cover up with and waits until I semi-wrap the towel around me before coming in. He sits down beside me and leaves the water running. I lean my head onto his shoulder and I remain that way for awhile, comforted by his kindness. "I'm sorry you're soaked." I squeak with tears still flowing down my face. He shrugs his shoulders and turns to look at me.

"It's okay." He remarks. I look up at him and his wet blonde hair is just reaching his blue eyes. I could get lost in his eyes, and his golden eyelashes as well. They have a somewhat calming quality to them. As if I could get lost in the peaceful waves of them. Eventually, he turns off the water and helps me stand up. I grab a dry towel to dry off with and Peeta heads to our bedroom to dry off. I turn to face the mirror and see that my face is red from crying. My eyes wander to my hair, which seems to be matted. I pick up a brush from the drawer located next to the sink and begin combing through it slowly. It doesn't take long for me to smooth it out, and it actually doesn't look bad.