Simply Everlark (After Mockingjay)

Chapter 16

(Unedited)

Have you ever had a feeling as if everything in your world that had seemed so distorted and wrecked at one time, you had believed that in no way you could manage to glue all of the pieces back together? The feeling as if living almost seemed pointless seeing that in no way you could manage to bring back what you once had.

I am a wreck and I am well aware of it. Before all of the insanity through Panem, I was strong -independent almost- seeing that I had to take care of my frail mother and young sister. I was the one who had been a mentor to my family members, going out and collecting food for survival. I had never let anything tear me down through the whole couple of years and looking back, managing to do that must have almost been an impossible task.

But here I am, laying in a bed that isn't even mine, alone in the covers but feeling as if I'm not really alone at all.

I have learned to keep my emotions under control through the first year moving back to district twelve. But I hadn't realized the most important feeling I had been lacking was comfort. When Peeta had stepped off of that train it had been clear, a sign almost.

I don't feel sad, or depressed, yet I don't feel happy. I'm complete and being happy doesn't have to be included.

What matters is that I'm whole again.

When I had woken up from a nightmare free slumber, Peeta's body wasn't wrapped around mine like I had imagined. He was gone and of course, I had feared the worst that had made him depart from the bed. A breath of fresh air had come over me though, when a clatter from downstairs had sounded. Peeta hadn't left and all worry was washed away just like that.

I have been laying in the bed for quite a while, not wanting to get up just yet. It's rather relaxing looking at the unfinished art work on the left wall while occasional sounds come from downstairs. From what was created so far, this room is an autumn theme with a verity of yellows and oranges shaped into a scenery. It looks as if Peeta had only painted the hills on the walled canvas, but with the array of warm colors and careful brush strokes, it looks amazing. There isn't even a need to finish being so beautiful already. I've missed his art.

Even the paintings he had done recreating the games, I had missed while he was gone. The horror would have been bearable if I could just take a quick glance at his works.

Groaning, I finally decide that it's time to get up and detach from my thoughts rather than sitting here like a bum. Very slowly not wanting to cause pain in my head, I push up from the cushion by exerting weight on my arms and extending them. I swing my legs to the side of the bed now in a sitting up position and place my bare feet on the cold flooring. I shiver involuntary and rub my palms over my arms, trying to get some warmth in my system. Since when had it gotten so cold? Only the nights had been a bit nippy after the sun had gone down, but this is rather new.

Standing was rather easy -much easier than I had thought- seeing that there was no pounding pain in my cranium. Nice to know that I am starting to make a bit of a recovery. Slow, but I will manage.

My feet glide across the wooden floors, skidding as I reach the door and twist the handle. As I push the door, multiple creaks and other forms of unpleasant noises sound. I wince; the house is so quiet and hearing this makes it sound louder than it probably is. Finally maneuvering out of the doorframe and closing the creaking door behind me, I start to patter down the hallway.

The room is rather far away from both sets of stairs in the house and I have a hard time discovering the passageway. Since I had been in Peeta's house a few times before, I'm clueless wondering around the home. The railings soon come into view though, and I take a breath of relief, finally being able to escape the upstairs.