The Epilogue - Katniss and Peeta

Ready or Not.

*Willow's POV*

I stand in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection, and I don't look like myself. My blonde waves are disheveled, and my eyes have dark circles underneath them. My freckles are prominent, just as my ribs are.

Part of me likes being able to see my ribs, because it reminds me of my mom.

Speaking of which, today's her funeral.

I try not to think about what today will hold as I carefully open her dresser, looking for something to wear. I could easily wear one of my own black dresses, but I so desperately want to wear hers.

I need something to feel close to her.

My eyes land on a black dress, and I don't bother looking at the details of it. As long as it was her's.

I slip into the dress, and it fits perfectly—most likely due to her being incredibly thin before her passing. I stare at her minimal jewelry that lies on top of her dresser, and I grab a simple gold bracelet.

I look back into the mirror, and I start to see myself again as I put myself back together. I take one final look at her things before moving out of her room and back into mine.

I sit down at my vanity, and I begin to enhance my waves with some hair cream. It still doesn't look the best, and I wish my mom was here to help me. She was always better at styling wavy hair, due to me and Rye both having it.

God, I miss her.

_

*Flynn's POV*

I stare into the mirror, looking at myself dressed in the suit I never thought I'd need. I take a shaky breath as I plaster a smile on my face, but my eyes move to the small scar on my cheek.

The scar I got from Lucian, and the gash that Katniss took care of. I would give anything just to see her once more, anything in the world for her to just take care of me—just one more time.

I back away from the mirror as I hear a quiet knock on my door, and it's not long before I see her red hair poke through my door. I begin to walk towards her, and I look at her as she stands there.

"Are you sure you don't want to go?" I ask her, watching as she fumbles with her hands.

"No, I—I can't." She remarks, and I nod in acceptance.

"That's okay, Mom." I reassure her, before flashing her a small smile.

She lets out a sigh before turning around and leaving, and I watch as she disappears behind her bedroom door. My smile fades and I soon find myself walking out the door, moving towards her house.

The house is so haunted without her in it, due to all of paintings strung along the house. There used to be a great variety of paintings on the wall, but now they're all just her.

Painting her has been the only thing that calms Peeta down, so none of us interject.

I make myself known as I walk in, and Peeta watches me as I find him in the art room. Even in his black suit, he's still painting her. I've seen the painting he's working on before, and I assume he found something 'wrong' with it on the wall—just to have a reason to paint her.