The Epilogue - Katniss and Peeta

One Last Time.

*Katniss's POV*

I sit by the door, looking out at the rain that has continued for days. Finally leaving my room after 3 days was hard, and it took everything just to open the door.

Being flooded with nothing but memories of Gale paralyzed me, and I couldn't even bare the thought of standing. I couldn't sleep either, and that affected both me and Peeta.

I feel him sit down beside me, and I try to soak in every last moment with him—knowing it could be my last. I turn to face him, and he smiles once he sees me.

"You're out of bed." He starts, the smile on his face remaining. I nod my head at him before looking back away at the rain, and my eyes shift towards the sky.

Maybe I'll be up there soon.

"How are you?" He asks calmly.

"I'm good." I say, flashing a fake smile before beginning to stand. "I feel better than I did a few days ago."

"Are you sure?" He asks, standing up with me.

I reassure him by nodding my head, and I see Willow and Flynn come out of the art room in the corner of my eye. I turn towards them, and Peeta thankfully drops the subject we were just on.

I can't let him know I'm only getting worse.

"Mom, we're going on a walk." Willow says as she reaches us, acknowledging Peeta as well. I look up at Flynn and smile at him, the sight of seeing them back together is relieving. "Do you need anything while we're gone?"

"I'm okay." I say, before beginning to walk away.

None of them call out for me to stay, and I take it as reassurance that they'll be fine without me—once my plan goes through.

My plan, the one I've spent the last 3 days thinking about, is way more calculated than my last, and has a way higher success rate.

Although I failed it once, I'm positive it will work this time. I have a lot to do in only a short amount of time, so I can't be constantly sulking around and being depressed.

I wait until Willow and Flynn have left to walk back towards the front of the house, and I turn left just before I reach the front door. I make my way down the hallway before reaching the art room, and I crack the door to make sure it's empty. I smile at the sight of all of the paintings on the walls, some painted of myself and some painted of others.

I sit down at Peeta's desk, and I take in the sight of all of his belongings. I feel a sense of comfort in seeing this room being so lively and peaceful, and I feel myself wishing that my heart felt like this—wishing my mind felt like this.

I pick up one of the pens sitting on the top of the desk, and I roll it in my palm a few times before beginning to write with it. I grab a blank piece of paper before staring at it, trying to determine which one of the letters I want to write first. I look at the pen one more time, and I can't bare to write to him yet.

His will be too hurtful to do.

I push the thought of him being hurt over me out of my head, and I settle on writing to Haymitch first. I'm not sure he'll even be sober enough to read this letter, considering that he hasn't put down the liquor in a solid year. I miss when he used to be there for me. I miss when I could talk to him without him falling asleep due to his intoxication levels.

My hand begins to scribble my thoughts, and I'm writing things I didn't know I felt. Soon the page is filled up, and I reread the letter to make sure I've made no mistakes.