I stood still, the air still pungent with the smell of flesh and fire. It was the first time I had dared to venture out of Victors Village and into the devastation beyond. I had managed to follow the path, avoiding the decaying bodies that hide underneath the destruction. Now I was in the square – or what I thought to be the square – and the damage was laid out for me. I caught glances of bodies, still not fully decayed into the earth and surrounded by worms and other ghastly insects, designed to make the bodies just part of the ashes. I wandered a few centimetres in every direction, trying to catch a glimpse of something that would indicate the lives of the people that formally lived here. My eye found a flash of blue, berried underneath the thick ash. As I leaned down to pick it up, a sudden gust of wind blew it into visibility. I saw my face; happy. No. I wasn’t happy. But I looked as though I was. This was one of the banners that circled the square during the Victory Tour last year; it was amazing how it lasted the destruction as everything around it seemed to be nothing but powder. I took a step back. I could feel my head beginning to throb, the way it did when I was too stressed. But like the last time I stood here, I couldn’t show my fear. Otherwise I would wind up back in the lunatic asylum with the poor, deranged, heart-broken Annie Cresta.
I could feel the eyes of Haymitch, Plutarch and the other Capitol attendants whose names I had never bothered to learn, bear into my back. It was one of their monthly checks on me; to make sure I was functioning well and can be used as another tool against the Capitol if necessary. They say they are here because they care about me and want me to get better. But I know they don’t. No one cares about me. And why should they? I don’t care about them either. The only one I did care about is gone. Sweet, young, beautiful Prim. The one that only wanted to help. Forced to age too fast and be lost too soon.
I held back tears as soon as I noticed the first trickling down my cheek. I squeezed my eyes shut and recited what I knew about myself. My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am eighteen years old. I was in the Hunger Games. I escaped. I was the Mockingjay. We defeated the Capitol. I stopped myself from muttering the last thing I knew was certain, because it would make the pain return. But I know no amount of covering up will change the past. Prim is dead.
I took a deep breath, meaning to pull myself together. “I’ve seen enough.” I say clearly to the five or six bodies behind me. Thankfully, they took the hint as I could hear the scoots of feet against the dust and I was left alone. I don’t know the real reason I decided to come here today. Maybe I thought seeing the damage would break me out of this strange trace, but all the trip seemed to be doing was pushing me deeper.
Slowly, as though in a dream, I turned around and trudged after the others. Fortunately, the rain had come to my favour and began to wash a clear path for me to follow. I closed my eyes, concentrating solely on how to walk. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. I disallowed my mind to wonder, it would only stumble across things I didn’t want it to. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot.
*Hi :)
This is Emily and this is my first story. So I love the Hunger Games, like a lot. This story takes place about a year after the war but before the epilogue. Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story, it means a lot. Please leave a comment or a vote or something of you liked it. It would mean a lot to me. Thank you again for reading (:*
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Always {The Hunger Games Fanfiction}
FanfictionAgainst all odds, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark are still alive. They have survived two Hunger Games and the revolution. But what will they do now? This story takes place after Mockingjay but before the epilogue. All rights to Suzanne Collins.