Dark Light

It feels like I’m floating. My mind is free of every thought. I smell the bacon frying over the stove and hear the crackling from the heat. I try to walk over to her in the kitchen, but my feet remain firmly planted in place. I feel my lips moving and hear the sound of my own voice say, “Katniss, I didn’t mean to. I loved her too.” I can’t stop the flow of words leaving my mouth, or the silent tears trailing down my face.

Katniss picks up her pan, her face twisting into a foul look of hatred. My heart is beating a million miles a minute as she screams “Liar!” and releases the hot contents of the slimy bacon mixture over my face. The oil burns deep into my face. My legs start to move slowly, then faster and faster. I can’t slow down. Wiping my eyes with my sleeve subconsciously, I look up.

The world around me has transformed. My arm shoots up to shield the sun from my face as it beats down on this hot, cloudless day. “You have to. There’s no other choice but to destroy it.” Looking around with just my eyes, I look over at Beetee. His entire body is shaking uncontrollably.

“Prim is in there. We have to wait,” my voice says sternly. My arms are down at my sides, my legs unmoving. “She still has her entire life.” The big, burly man to my left grabs my right arm, squeezing so hard my hand releases the tiny black object it was holding. I reach to no avail, and the man snatches the controller quickly and smoothly. “No--”

I can do nothing but watch his thumb connect to the small round button. I see Prim’s small, delicate face, so similar to Katniss’s matured one, look up for one last moment. Our eyes meet and lock. I have no control. No control over my body, no control over the bomb about to explode, no control over saving Prim’s life. Everything from then on proceeds in slow motion, making it that much more excruciating to watch. A small flame appears in the middle of the glass box, gradually expanding. The children are thrown against one another, bits and pieces of their bodies flying against the wall.

The flame engulfs little Prim. All I see is red. Red against the glass, red seeping through the glass, red on my hands. Her blood will forever be stained on my hands. Tears blur my vision. Blinking them away viciously, I become surrounded. Bodies of the dead children pile on top of me, all with the face of Prim. “Why?” they chant. “Why? Why? Why?” Unable to push them off of me, I give up, my hands automatically reaching to my ears for silence. It only gets louder.

“Stop!” I shout. My eyes close tightly. The weight of the dead children gets heavier and heavier. “Stop! I’m sorry! Please.” My voice begins to fade. The weight disappears. But the blood will always be on my hands.

“Gale, wake up. It was only a bad dream.” I sit up and look over at Willow. I’m completely out of breath and drenched in sweat. My vision is foggy in the humid night air. I feel my wife’s soft hands in my hair, comforting and sweet. I had punched her in my sleep again. The purple bruise was already forming on her leg. Realizing I had seen it, Willow quickly grabs the tan sheet, covering the injury. “Forget about it. I can hardly even feel it.” Her beautiful face looks tired but caring. She deserves someone better than me.

“I had the dream again,” I say in a slow, shaky voice. “The one with Prim. It was my fault. I was the last person that could save her and I failed. I should’ve stopped it, Willow. But instead she had to die by my hand.” Stopping briefly to choke back the oncoming tears, I look deep into Willow’s almond brown eyes. “I can’t live with myself knowing Prim’s life ended because of me.”

Willow looks deep in thought. She starts to say something but pauses, then continues slowly. “I—I think you need to go see her again. She has to forgive you at some point. It's been 5 years. Gale, look at me.” My gaze had dropped as I thought about the last time I returned to District 12.

Katniss had married Peeta about a year after the revolution had ended. They lived in a house near the meadow, where the sunrise broke through the trees every morning and dissolved into the green grass every night. It was a warm, clear day. I arrived at the edge of 12 at around 10 in the morning. Peeta answered the door when I knocked on the Everdeen's old house in Victor's Village. “Oh. Hello Gale. Nice to see you,” he said, his face dropping when he saw me. The smell of flavorful bacon made its way into my nose as a gust of wind blew by. “Um, come in, if you'd like.”

I walked into the familiar front door, wiping my boots on the 'Welcome' mat laid out in the hallway. The sizzle of fat crackled from the kitchen, drawing me to its source. “Thank you, Peeta. Can I talk to her? Alone?” He nodded reluctantly, leading me to Katniss. Her dark hair was down, the curls hanging loosely down her back. She was exactly how I remembered, yet I noticed something different. She was humming. Not one of her father's old songs, but a new, happier one.

“Peeta, you're bacon's almo--” She stopped short when she saw me. Katniss's glowing, healthy face distorted into an angry frown, tears springing to her eyes. The pan dropped from her hand, clattering loudly as the juices spilled across the brown hardwood floor.

My words catch in my throat. I try to talk but nothing comes out. The room starts to spin. All I see is a blur of light blue walls and early sun from the window. My knees give out and I hit the floor head-first. Katniss runs to my side and presses a cold towel to my head, saying something I can't hear. All I can focus on is the fresh bile crawling up into my mouth, and I spill the contents of my stomach all over the floor. The world goes black.

I wake up on a soft couch, my head resting on a rough pillow. Katniss sits on a chair in front of me, Peeta by her side. Turning to her husband, Katniss whispers something in his ear. He nods and leaves the room as swiftly as he can with his mechanical leg. “I know why you came here today,” she says. “It's taken me a long time to try to forgive you, and seeing you here today, I remembered it all over again. I have nightmares, Gale. Every night. Because of you, she's dead. Prim, my little innocent sister, is dead. I don't want you to say a thing. Just get out of here.”

She never looks at me in the eye. Her eyes skirt around the room as though they would perish just by making eye contact with me. “Katiniss--” I begin. Our eyes meet and her face says more than any words ever would.

I get up too fast and the dizzying experience from before returns. I close my eyes and force my legs to move to the door. My hand subconsciously turns the handle like I'm in a dream. I pass the primrose plants around the house. I pass the graveyard of people lost during the revolution. I keep walking until my legs cannot carry my weight and I collapse into the dirt. No tears come. Just regret. I didn't even say one word to her. Not one.

The past dissolves into the present. “How could I ever show my face to her again?” I ask Willow. She looks down at her hands in her lap, her face plastered with a sad expression. “Maybe we should just go back to sleep and talk about it more later,” I say softly. Willow looks at me, a sad smile crossing her face.

Laying down again, I hear the soft sounds of Willow sleeping within minutes. I have no intention of sleeping again. My nightmare will only return and cause more pain in my heart.

An hour after she returned to her soundless sleep, Willow starts thrashing around, kicking at the blankets. “No, you can't make her! Stop! Stop!” Willow wakens abruptly to the sound of her own screaming. Sitting upright, her face glows in the light of the sunrise. She turns to me and begins to cry into my chest.

Holding her tightly, I tell her, “It's alright. It's all over. They can't hurt you.” We sit in each others arms, watching the sun rise until it's too high to see. Her body is warm against mine. I break away from her to get ready for work and start the stove for her morning tea. Turning to head back into our room, I hear a scream.

“Gale!” I know that voice, but it isn't Willow's.

 

It's Prim's.