Fighter | The Hunger Games

Epilogue

Three months had passed since the Hunger Games. 

I had grown accustomed to the creak of the floorboards underneath my feet and the sound of rain against my windowsill. There were times where I still awoke in confusion, expecting to open my eyes to the arena, but I would hear Faith's breath next to me and be reminded of all things safe. Most nights I slept soundly; other nights nightmares tormented me until sunrise. On those nights I discovered it helpful to sit on the back porch and write underneath the light of a dull lantern. Initially my writing was timid and disorganized but it eventually developed into pages upon pages of prose detailing every human emotion I felt since the Games. Maybe one day I would be bold enough to share those pages, but for now I was happy to tuck the ratty journal underneath the mattress of my bed.

There were days where I would stare at my reflection in my handheld mirror and feel nothing but pride for the person I was becoming. Over the past weeks I had found solace inside the forest with my father, no longer fearing the trees I once lost myself within. Instead I grew to appreciate the nature surrounding the walls of my house. There was something beautiful about the way the wild flowers grew, unbothered by their circumstance.

It was dinner time and my mother was preparing to serve her honest meal of chicken and rice. "Faith we told you not to wear something nice today- we're going on a walk after we eat" my mother scolded. Faith was wearing another one of the dresses Ezra crafted for her. This one was a gorgeous red sundress that complimented her tanned skin perfectly. My father and I giggled as we watched Faith roll her eyes. It was rare to see Faith without a fancy piece of clothing on. My mother despised it but I had written to Ezra several times and he found the entire situation rather amusing. In fact, he continued to send over shoes and accessories for Faith much to my mother's despair. 

We were just about to begin eating when a knock sounded at the door. "I'll get it" my mother offered as she was already standing. The rest of us paid little attention to the mysterious visitor. It wasn't unusual for people to show up on our doorstep uninvited. Typically it was a reporter requesting interviews or photos, but I always declined. I preferred to live a quiet life; unassociated with the Hunger Games.

"Avery this one is for you, and I think you want to answer it" my mother spoke in a tone I was unable to recognize. Curious, I approached the door as she backed away with a sly smile pasted over her face. I raised my eyebrows in shock as I came face to face with the person I least expected to see.

It was the boy with the piercing blue eyes and cunning smile; the boy who stole a piece of my heart. It was the boy who haunted my every waking moment, like a ghost, or a distant memory. The boy that despite my greatest efforts I could never rid myself of completely. It had been three months since I last saw him but his face was etched so brightly in my mind it was almost like no time had passed at all. It was Jace, and he was standing on my front porch looking just as handsome as ever. If anything he looked better than before, stronger even. He was the boy who shattered me into a million pieces. The boy who was my everything. 

For a moment I wanted to turn my back to him, close the door behind me, and let myself heal. I did not need to be reminded of all the pain he inflicted upon me. But I found myself stepping onto the porch in front of him, gently shutting the door behind me. Jace scanned my face, looking into my eyes for some sort of sign, but I lowered my gaze to the ground. It was all too much.

"Errr" he ran his hand through his hair "these are for you." For the first time ever Jace seemed hesitant, unsure of himself, nervous even. It was rare to catch a moment of vulnerability from him. Typically Jace was composed and self-assured. I watched as he offered me a bouquet of wild daisies. My face softened as I accepted them from him. "Thank you" I said quietly, observing his expression carefully.