A/N: Yet another I wrote myself. Thought of this one at school today.
He asked me to start over with him. He begged me to forgive him for all he's done. He pleaded with me that he was still the same and if we tried he'd come back to me. Peeta tried to build a new future with me. But I couldn't do it. No, I couldn't look at him and remember the time we spent in the cave or the kiss we shared on the beach and know he didn't remember those memories that made me fall in love with him. The old him. The past Peeta. The one that had loved me since age five. He wasn't there anymore and I couldn't stand it. I'd lost the boy with the bread, and I'd finally realised I'd never see him again. I could try to restore a relationship with this present Peeta but it would never be the same ever again. He was gone. The one that swore he would give his life for mine in the Quarter Quell wasn't coming back. That man was dead. But I would never forget him. And I would never forget my hunting partner for both the good and bad he's done. I ran to neither of them. I wasn't with Peeta, I wasn't with Gale, I was with myself. Everyday, I had to live with the traumatic events I had gone through in my short life. Dad, Mum, the 74th Hunger Games, the 75th Hunger Games, Peeta, Gale, Prim, Finnick, Cinna. Some days it proved too much and I would just lie in bed with my tears. The others tried to get me out of bed. Haymitch, Greasy Sae, Johanna. But then they too realised I was a lost cause. I was all alone in a house that was much too big. No clanking from the kitchen, no soft steps in the hallway, just me and that rotten cat. Gale had run off to District Two after the rebellion and I hadn't heard one word from him since. Peeta found a new love that wasn't afraid of him because he didn't want to kill her like he wanted to kill me. Delly and he got married years ago and had so many beautiful blonde babies that I've lost count. Maybe that's because I don't want to count how many things I'm missing out on in life. But I made the choose to turn them both down and be by myself. I never wanted to have kids before, so why should that change now? I ask myself the question many times a day. Asking whether this is it, that this is all there is. I whisper to the empty rooms, "This is my life. Real or not real?" and every time the answer is "Real".
