≫ a collection of imagines for some of my favourite fictional characters and celebrities, part two.
(Gifs used are from google images, so credit to their rightful owners!)
I also post these imagines on tumblr x
summary: you think you're doing a good job at hiding your nightmares from your girlfriend, until one starts to feel awfully realistic.
warning/s: mentions of death, PTSD, murder, bombs and everything else that comes with writing a hunger games one-shot.
author's note: so this was requested on my tumblr – it's only a short one, but a little katniss never hurt anyone!
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It was still difficult to adjust to my new life in District 13. I suppose I should've been grateful I had it – I was, but a massive part of me would always miss my true home in District 13.
Things weren't the same anymore, and though I was lucky to count myself as one of the minority who escaped the bombings, thanks to Gale and some miners who rescued all they could and led us to the forest, I still missed what I had.
My family weren't so lucky and the survivor's guilt was eating away at me. They were in town the day it happened, the day the bombs dropped from the sky in an instant, showering the whole district in a firework of horror. I didn't see them burn, but my brain still liked to conjure images of them all stuck in town, helpless, as they were engulfed in flames.
It was a lot, especially when it overwhelmed me, but I knew I had to push on. Though my family were gone, I still had Katniss and, in a way, she was my family too.
She hated District 13 as much as I did, but she made more of a point about it. After everything she endured in both Hunger Games, particularly the second one which was a whirlwind for her, she wasn't the same and I didn't expect her to be. But it meant I only worried for her more, no matter if it was something simple like her straying from the hyper-strict District 13 schedule we all received, or something heart wrenching like her suffering a panic attack, no doubt induced by her PTSD.
As the face of the rebellion, she had a lot on her plate and the last thing I wanted to worry her about were my own problems. Sometimes though, it got the better of me.
It was like any other nightmare I'd had about them, but this felt so much more real. I was stuck, as if my feet were cemented into the ground, and forced to watch the bombs rain down on District 12. My family were there – my parents and younger sister – but no matter how much I screamed at them to leave, they couldn't hear me. I wasn't sure whether my voice was stuck in my throat or being drowned out by the falling of bombs, but it was as if I were invisible to them.
The smoke was thick, swallowing up my screams and leaving my eyes watery. I couldn't see them, but I knew. They'd been stolen from me and the pain in my heart was immeasurable. Just like all my other nightmares of them, I couldn't save them here either.
I was usually quite good at hiding my sleepless nights, but this one felt so horribly realistic that it had me waking up with a start. My heart was racing so fast I thought it would jump from my chest, and as I blinked away the tears in my eyes, I realised it was only a dream.
