Unsafe And Unfound

Just A Game

Songs for today (I'm sorry there's so many there's more and I cried trying to pick some):

-Atlas - Coldplay

-Misery Business - Paramore

-Little Talks - Of Monsters And Men

-Original Me - YUNGBLUD, Dan Reynolds

-I'm in love with an E-girl - Wilbur Soot

-Mr. Brightside - The Killers

-Cancer - My Chemical Romance

(BTW I like rock music)

Chapter 3 

Katniss's POV

"Look, I still don't understand, you want me to do what?" It is the first time in months that I have my voice back.

"Just whatever. Walk around. Talk about twelve. The cameras will follow you." Plutarch really isn't helping me out here. First, I had no reign over what I did and said- now, it's half an hour and a long speech from Haymitch later and I'm supposed to do whatever comes to mind? It's like being thrown into a small cage and then just left in a desert with nothing there. But I guess there's nothing else to do except walk, so I walk.

I walk.

There is a lump of metal and brick that is too familiar- the bakery. The sight of skulls brings bile up to my throat. "This is where it was," I croak. "Peeta's family's house. They died. Because of the Capitol. They didn't even have me or Peeta tell them I was pregnant, they just learnt it from the interviews. And the baby is gone now anyway. It's unlikely there will be another." I pretend there was a miscarriage, but the tears in my eyes are real for the stillborn boy with no name. I never even got to see him.

I turn to the square. More lumps of melted metal- the whipping post, the gallows- cruel devices of torture that were burned with everything else. Making the thousands of lives here just as worthless.

I see Victors Village still standing though, and ask for a few moments alone.

The door to our house is wide open, so it's no effort getting in.

It seems so clean and sterile. 

I find a bag somewhere and pick it up. I end up stuffing it with photos of our family, some herbs from my mother's cupboard, the hunting jacket my father wore. I wander up the stairs, and push open the door to my room. The sheets have been washed since I left for the quell, but the rest of the room is the same. I pick up the family book of medicinal plants, since it holds useful information and memories from my father and Peeta.

Peeta.

His shoes are by the bed. A shirt. 

I find myself picking the shirt up, pulling it close to me. Lying on the bed. Crying.

I must be there for a while, because Haymitch comes in calling my name. When he sees me crying, he just sits next to me and puts his hand on my shoulder. "Can I see him again?"

He gives me a sympathetic smile. "I don't know. Maybe."

I hear a small hiss, and see a mass of ginger fur. Buttercup. For some unknown reason, I pick him up and pull him into the shirt against my chest. His fur is raggedy and rough but it feels vaguely comforting to hold him, to feel his steady breathing. He begins to yell loudly and I wrap him in the shirt like a little baby, laughing because he looks so stupid.

"Do you think you can come back out?" Haymitch asks. I nod and he picks up the bag.

"Wait," I say, rushing and putting the shirt and Buttercup bundle into it as Buttercup protests loudly. Haymitch smiles a little.