After the Rebellion

Murdered

The world is completely dark around me. I can't even see my hand in front of my face from what I think is two inches away. Suddenly, a bright light shone in the room and blinded me for a good ten seconds. To my left, I could then see the flamboyant Capitol citizens dressed in their usual unusual attire. As I looked straight ahead, I could see Caesar Flickerman on his stage. There's only one reason why I would be here again; I'm in the Games for a third time.

Looking down at myself, I see myself in the jumpsuit from the first Games, and out of instinct, I look for Cinna. But I know that he won't be in the crowd. Though maybe he will be. As far as I can see, though, Cinna is nowhere to be seen.

"Katniss, come and join us!" Caesar says. He's always been so kind to me, and it causes me to have my guard down. I hear a man and a little girl scream behind me, and I turn to face Peeta and the same girl I had a nightmare about before. It must be my daughter. But why are they screaming? They point at something behind me, and I turn around in time to see the dagger in Caesar's hand come down at me.

I felt the sharp blade puncture my skin, but not in my chest where I had expected it. Caesar had stabbed me in the lower torso, and amidst the action and my pain, I could hear Peeta cry out over everything and everyone.

"No! Not our son!"

I'm pregnant again. Or, I was. But the Capitol had taken my freedoms away from me again. It's a wonder that they haven't gotten to my beautiful daughter yet.

"Mommy! M--"

Even though I was experiencing excruciating pain, I did all that I could to get to my daughter without success. A crowd of peacekeepers were surrounding her, and I could see blood come up off of the whips that they had. I recognised one of them. Thread. He whipped Gale, he whipped me, and now he's whipping my daughter. I knew then that I had to do whatever I could to get my daughter away from them. Even if it meant risking my own life for hers.

I barrelled through feet to get at my daughter, but when I saw her, I knew that even if she had medical treatment from the Capitol, she wouldn't be able to make it. And the peacekeepers knew too. They backed away, and I could feel the eyes of millions on me. Watching to see my reaction at the death of my child.

I did my best to put on a strong face, but even though I didn't know the girl, she was so broken, and I saw me and Peeta both in her. Her body was almost unrecognisable, but I knew that it was her. She was my daughter, and my motherly instincts kicked in.

My daughter is dead.

I sank to my knees and caressed what was left of her face. Even though there was a strong stench of blood, there was also a too sweet smell as well.

Roses.

And that meant only one thing.

Snow is back.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and assumed that it was Peeta. But when I looked at who the hand was connected to, I saw a girl in her early twenties holding a white rose.

"I'm really sorry about your daughter," she said.

"How dare you insult me! Why would you want this to become the basis of the new government? You're no different from your grandfather, Persephone," I retaliated.

She scoffed at me. "You think I didn't believe in my grandfather's governmental system? It would've worked if all of the districts had simply complied and hadn't rebelled. You broke the system. I congratulate you for that, but we need to either eject you from our system, or rid the world of you and your radical ideas."

"If you kill me, you'll just give the rebels more reason to rise up."

"We can plan your death. Make it seem like a natural death. Though you and I know it won't be." Persephone shoves her hand onto my face, and I start to drift away from the world I'm in.

"Katniss!"

"Katniss, wake up!"

I wake with a jolt. Usually, the nightmares aren't that vivid, but that one seemed like I was really there.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Obviously Peeta forgot that I'm not supposed to talk.

I shake my head in reply and bury my head into his chest and try to drift off, unsuccessfully. I just lay there, still trying to discern if that nightmare was real, or even if any part of it was.