Living Lies ✜ Hunger Games x Reader

Her Undoing

It was around synthetic midnight when you stopped to rest and snack. You were hours away from Peeta on foot—there's no way he'd be able to follow you. It was suicide at its best, and the berries were probably just now wearing off well enough for him to comprehend the situation. Your head start has made it impossible for him to follow safely, and Peeta's not an idiot. You silently thank Haymitch (and whoever bought the sleepy time syrup) for giving you the jump start—it might just have saved both of your lives.

During the long first leg of the walk, you had plenty of time to think. And, you know, from personal experience, that having time to think—the ability to think—is not always a good thing. So you tried to distract yourself. Singing quietly seemed out of place and far too risky in case another tribute was nearby, so that was out of the question. So you decided to hum softly, except every song you thought of only managed to remind you of Rue, so you quickly put an end to that.

And when dusk approached and all fell quiet except for a few rustles of the bushes here and there, you were far too alert and fidgety to focus on something other than watching the area around you. So you concentrated on the little things, pleasant things around you. A bird chirping loudly and watching its mate thieving little berries off of a nearby bush. Yet all of those things only managed to direct your drifting mind back to Peeta, and home, and everything you didn't want to think about. No matter what you thought of, your mind never failed to segue back onto a sore subject.

That bird has a pretty voice, very familiar too—I wonder if I ever heard it back in District 12. No, we don't have birds that look like that back home that eat those kinds of berries. Maybe I heard a mockingjay sing it.

Mockingjay—copying a tune—four note tune—Rue—guilt.

Mockingjay pin—district token—Cinna—Prim—Katniss—saving Peeta—need medicine—drugged him to leave—guilt.

Bird eating berries—berries—drugging Peeta—lying—leaving—guilt.

It all comes back to guilt. Why does it always come back to guilt? You shouldn't feel guilty for trying to help people or save them. But you do. Why? Because of fear of failure, of letting people down or letting them die. Your mentors and friends and the entire country has put so much pressure on you, it's becoming quite debilitating to your level of morale. But you never asked for that—why do you have to help Peeta, or Katniss—risk your life—after all the pressure and instability they've put on you? The betrayal that you've had to suffer through?

There's a tiny part of you that insists this is just karma playing out in your favor. After all, hasn't Peeta screwed you over before the games even started with your training? And for what, strategy? And here you are, risking life and limb for him. You assume that you've forgiven him for that—after all, you couldn't bring yourself to let him die. No part of you thinks death is a satisfactory tool of revenge.

Yet still, there's a hint of satisfaction with what you did. Quite possibly at this very moment, Peeta finally knows the feeling of a District partner's betrayal.

And it's a good feeling—and it horrifies you. You promised Peeta you wouldn't let the atmosphere, the Games, the Capitol, turn you into a blood thirsty, vengeful monster. But that's not what you are, right? You're just being human. Humans have emotions, emotions get hurt. That's all.

You never meant to feel like this—like shit. You just wanted to save Prim, and to keep Katniss from risking herself. Being selfish wasn't in your nature, but oh, how you wished it was. You just wanted to quit being so morally correct and lose yourself. To win the games on your own terms and maybe even settle down, live a normal life once you got back home. But risking yourself for Peeta drastically increases your chance of death. Hell, you're practically walking straight into an ambush to go to the Feast. But it's not like you have a good excuse not too—what with the new rule change.