Twisted Perfection ~ Everlark

Those days.

2 months later.
Katniss' Pov:
I toss around in bed - mid afternoon, feeling dejected and disconsolate. Some days are good. Some days they all leave my mind and I'm happy. But today is one of those days where I can't seem to stop thinking about them. Prim, Finnick, Rue and everybody whose dead because of me. Their deaths; they haunt me the most. I was past mourning about a month ago. Prim and Finnick especially because they were more recent, but Prim hurts the most. Sometimes I didn't know whom I was most in mourning for. Her or the person I used to be when I was with her.
I don't sleep. Sleep will only drag me into another despondent nightmare. Peeta's downstairs, painting. He says he doesn't want to leave me when I'm like this. And I don't want him to leave, but nothing will cheer me up right now. Every few hours, he'll bring me something to eat, but it's only when he forces it down my throat do I eat it. We're close again. We see each other every day, but he hasn't moved back in yet. His house is his and my house is mine. But, he keeps another set of painting things at my house. I hear him coming upstairs, slightly louder on his prosthetic. He enters the door and sees me looking glum, with my back on the bed, staring directly at the ceiling.

"Katniss, I know it's hard to just be happy, but it's better by far that you should forget and smile, than that you should remember and be sad." He says.
"Yes, but Rossetti was writing about her own death, not her loved ones'." I say.
He pauses for a second, trying to argue my point, but in the end not finding any reasonable incentive.
"Why don't you try to rest." He asks rhetorically and gives a faint smile, then heads out the door. I don't sleep though.
Instead, I nonchalantly walk over to my mirror to rid myself of the cramp in my legs and observe myself. I hate myself really, but I can't tell Peeta that. He'd only tell me not to, but he doesn't understand. Well, not in the way I do.
My eyes are still a clouded gray and my hair is looking healthy again. I chopped the fried bits off a few weeks ago, leaving me with hair that I now model touching my shoulders. My weight has increased, with Peeta back around. My brow bone isn't as prominent, neither are my cheek bones. My ribs have disappeared from my appearance, so overall I look healthy. But today, I just feel awful.
I stare at my dresser, with a few belongings on it that bring me comfort.

The medallion.
The pearl.
The picture of Prim.
The picture of my father.
And lastly, my mockingjay pin.

I'm not sure why my pin is there, as it doesn't really bring me any comfort whatsoever, but when the comforting sensation of the pearl has disappeared and I still need something to give me the same effect the pearl does, I'll rub my fingers over it's wings and then the circle that holds it. Peeta's, but now more my medallion, has slightly changed. I removed Gale's picture and replaced it with a picture of my father. I couldn't really bare to look at Gale. And now that he's out of my life, for now, he doesn't hold any comfort to me anymore. Instead when I think about his eyes, I see Prim leaving the world, and that, I really can't bear.

The pictures are self-explanatory. I look at them and see two beautiful people.  My strong and simple father. My beautiful and sweet little duck. For a moment and only a moment they make me happy. They still make me happy. Even if they're the reason why I'm sad.
I let the gathered tears fall down my face, leaving my eyes appear glassy. I hear Peeta come back in, looking at me slightly perplexed. But I don't care that I'm crying.
"What's the matter?" He asks, coming up to me. He stands so close, I swear he's going to kiss me. "I just...oh never mind." I say.
"Hey, it's my job to mind." He says, rubbing my arm gently.
"Can we do something to take my mind off all this?" I ask, wiping away the few stray tears from my cheeks.
"Um, yeah. Sure." He replies. "How about painting?"
"Peeta, I've never painted a thing in my life." I admit to him.
"Well, now you will." He says. "Come on. Let's go to the study."

We go downstairs, and reach the study door, which is wide open. But I stop. I stop because on the canvas holds the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I walk closer to it.
"Surprise." Peeta says quietly, walking beside me. "It was a set up. You didn't have to paint. I just wanted to give you this."

The painting is beautiful. Her blue eyes and small frame, surrounded in the meadow, with a myriad of flowers and peaceful colours. Her braid sits on her shoulder as she smiles, holding a dandelion in her small hand. She's laughing. I can't help but to cry. But it's more of relief.
"It was meant to make you happy." Says Peeta. "And you're not."
I touch his arm gently.
"No, Peeta. I am happy. I'm so serene." I say.
I mean it. I mean it because he's painted a picture of Primrose. I look at Peeta, and for the first time all day, I smile.