I wake up screaming at the top of my lungs. Cato is still after her. Where's Rue? I pinch myself. It was just a dream. Just a dream. This is how it is everynight. I lie to myself about the existence of the other tributes. Of the existence of Rue. Prim. Gale.
15 years after the capitol fell and I'm still looking behind me, expecting to see someone chasing me, someone I love die in front of my eyes, or worse, a white rose. I don't know how Peeta is so strong. He claimes he doesn't have the nightmares when I'm next to him. But I wake up, and find him wide awake. Blood shot eyes. A sweaty face. And I know he's been having a dream.
We have to stay strong. It's not about us anymore. It's not about me anymore. I can't just cry in Peeta's arms all night long. It's about them. Finnick, at only 3, is a perfect mix between Peeta and me with his blond curls and stormy grey eyes. Same with Prim, the quick-tempered 12 year old.
I walk over to her. Her brown hair in a braid, laying across her pillow. Her blue eyes, the same terrifyingly clear blue as Peeta's. Everytime I say their names, I feel a pain in my gut. Finnick is named after Finnick Odair. Wonderful, seductive, strong, and sensitive victor. The first time I met him he asked if I wanted a sugar cube and if I had any secrets to tell him. A few months later he had saved both Peeta and my lives countless times, and layed down his life for me. He was married no more than 3 weeks before he let himself die so that I could live. And Prim. Of course Prim is named after my perfect little, baby sister. Whenever I close my eyes I see her warm smile. Never caring about herself. She was always full of advice that made her sound a thousand years old. Not 14. And then I remember. She died. Saving people's lives on the battlefield, a bomb blew her up right in front of my eyes. A bomb from our side.
I always wanted both of them to have the same great traits of their name sakes. But, of course, my luck never prevails. I can already see my obnoxious, independent temper seeping through Prim. And my selfishness showing through Finnick. Thankfully, they both recieved wonderful girfts from Peeta's side of the genes. Finnick has his calmness. Under any amount of pressure, he always stays subtle and prepared. And Prim. Well Prim is so, so strong. She often comforts me during my nighttime trembles, although she still doesn't know why they happen.
She's been asking, though. He is still to young to wonder. But she openly askes why "daddy often screems and runs out of the house." or "why mommy always cries in her sleep." I can't outright say that her dad still has tracker jacker venom in his blood that makes him insane once in a while! I can't tell her that I have dreams about the times when I was killing children her age! Peeta answers these questions better than I do. For I just walk away with tears running down my face, thinking about the day when we will have to tell them.
The sound of Peeta's boots on the stars pull me out of bed. He comes in and says, " We have to tell her. Today."
Tell her what? I have no idea what he could possibly mean! Seeing my distress he says, " About the capitol, about The Games, about everything, Katniss." Is he joking? She's only twelve! He continues, "because Gale is here, with some news from District 2. It seems as though the Hunger Games are going to begin again."
