I Want You to Stay

Birds.

"They say I'm nasty, say I'm crazy

Ask what I think, I say maybe

I fly away."

~"Fly Away " by Eminem feat. Just Blaze

Chapter 10.

I wish I were a bird.

A bird who can fly away without a care in the world. A bird who can go higher in the trees than I can ever train myself.

A bird who can really fly away from their problems just like that without looking like a fool in a tree.

I'm glad no one comes out to the woods.

I look at the far away ground, at my most recent attempt of reaching the birds.

I'm still not even halfway up.

I want to climb higher. I want to reach the birds and feel the sensation of looking over the woods from it's highest point.

It was yesterday that I last saw Peeta. ;
It was yesterday that I said my latest deep cut.

It was yesterday that I came out here. I've been here ever since.

I wandered about yesterday until it got dark, then I found somewhere to go sleep. I slept a long time, full of nightmares of mutts and Peeta. Then I woke up and climbed this tree now as I watch the sun sink behind the hills.

This is what a crazy person like me does.

It's wintertime and I'm sleeping outside in the woods where an animal could come maul me or something.

I hope I get hypothermia. I really, really do.

I keep stepping over the line with Peeta, then running away to beat myself up about it. Because I deserve to. I deserve all pain I the world that I have not already endured to be thrown at me.

As I wait here longer, I start getting more and more restless. And freezing. So so so freezing. I clutch myself to conceal the warmth of my body, letting out a sneeze.

That's when I shamefully crack and climb down the tree.

Weakweakweakweakweakweak.

My brain chants this rude word as I sprit my way through town and finally slow when I get just outside of Victor's Village.

I look around and from what I can see, everyone's inside or gone.

And by everyone I mean Peeta and Haymitch. I run quickly and quietly down the street, letting out an occasional cough or sneeze as I run, without stopping, into my house. I slam the door and keep running until I crash into the couch.

I catch my breath for a minute and just sit quietly in the couch. My hands have that seemingly permanent tremor I've had for what feels like forever.

Birds don't have hands to tremble.

I wish I were a bird.

---

My days have become a haze. It's only been two days since I talked to Peeta last, but it feels like one long, never ending day in which it gets dark and scary for a while.

I've been fighting off sleep for a little while now. I hate sleep I hate sleep I hate sleep I want to sleep so bad.

But Snow and mutts and tortured Peeta and bombs and dead children await me at the end of my bed to attack.

I haven't had a good night's sleep in just about forever. I don't know if I want to sleep ever again. Maybe it's possible to die from lack of sleep. I hope it is.