The Epilogue - Katniss and Peeta

Never.

*Flynn's POV*

I never should have drank that flask.

That opened up so many memories, and so many feelings surrounded with my past addiction. And to further that, Katniss isn't here to stop me anymore. She isn't here to stop me from becoming like her.

It's hard to open my eyes, a pounding headache overtaking me. I cover my eyes with my hands to shield myself from the incredibly bright light, and I roll over in agony.

Drinking doesn't mix well with waking up early—or surgeries.

Especially when you drank as much as I did.

I haven't had that much in over a year, and I know Roone would kill me if he found out. He was the one who helped me through the last addiction, and I know he'd hate to see me go through another.

I notice the pain radiating from my abdomen, and I reluctantly stand and grab the compression wrap sitting on top of my dresser. I quickly wrap it around myself—a desperate attempt at some relief, but it does very little.

I throw on some clothes, ones I'd usually wear so Roone or Willow doesn't suspect anything. I run my hands through my hair, trying to focus on anything else besides the pain that is flowing through my body.

Before walking out of my room, I hide the bottle of liquor in the bottom of my dresser.

Mom would lose her shit if she saw that in here.

I walk as quickly as I can down the stairs, and I scramble to find my bottle of pills—looking in any and every drawer.

I start to lose hope on the medicine, until I find it hidden under three other boxes of medicine. I take the prescribed medication before also swallowing two pain pills, hoping that it'll help but with the pain in my abdomen and the intense headache I have.

I'm so stupid.

Never again.

_

*Willow's POV*

I gently knock on Rye's door, and I open it to find him staring up at the ceiling.

"Are you okay, Rye?" I ask, but he doesn't acknowledge me.
"I'm fine." He says shortly, and I hesitate before asking another question.

"Are you going to school?" I watch as he continues to stare at his ceiling before shaking his head and bringing his hands to his face.

"No," he remarks. "Johanna's taking me to therapy midday, so theres's no point."

"Oh." I start, but I'm not sure on what to say next. I look down at my hands, remembering that he started therapy a long time ago.

I should've known that.

"Do you want to talk when I get home?" I ask, and he shakes his head again. I give him a sad smile before accepting his answer, and I eventually just leave him alone.

He's never liked me.
I don't blame him.

I hurry down the stairs—avoiding the creaks—and I try to intercept any interaction between my dad and Flynn.

By the time my dad came home, Flynn was already gone and I could tell something had happened with my dad.

He didn't tell me anything, but I assume it was something to do with my mom.

He wouldn't freak out this way over something that wasn't concerning the love of his life.

I'm shaken from my thoughts by the sound of the front door opening, and I quickly meet him at the door, closing it behind myself.