Our Love Could Be Lethal

Act III: She's Coming to Town

Dun dun dun!!!! Surprise everyone! I'm back! My health has been a literal shit show lately, but because of waiting rooms and procedures, I've had time to write this! Hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Song: "There's a Reason..." Panic! at the Disco

~~~~~

Eyes. That's all I can see. Eyes everywhere. Her eyes burned into my soul like a brand.

The wolf. The eyes.

I creep into the back compartment of the train while everyone else is sleeping. I need to know for myself. I need to see for myself. I carefully pop the lid of the shorter of the two coffins open so as not to alert anyone to my presence. I'm not supposed to be there. But I need to know. I need to know if they're there.

Her body is eerily still, not full of life like it should be. There's no smile or sneer, only a cold, grey expression to match the divet in her head. They did their best to get rid of the smell, but the chemicals are so heavy that I have to cover my nose.

I carefully reach down to gently pull her eyes open, but as I do, they flutter open.

But they're missing. There's nothing there. She has no eyes.

They took her eyes.

The wolf mutts.

Suddenly, her body and face change, but I can't put my finger on what looks different. Her dark hair is still in the same bubbled ponytail and she looks to be the same build and height. My brain figures it out a split second before I do.

I am no longer looking down at Clove, no. It's me in the coffin; it's me who is pale, lifeless and grey.

I am dead.

Katniss killed me.

~~~

I sit up in my bed, instinctively grabbing the knife I keep at my bedside table. My chest heaves as I look around for a threat and after a few minutes of none in sight, I allow myself to lay back on my pillow. But I don't let go of the knife. I can feel the sticky dampness of my sweat, meaning I'm going to have to change my sheets for the third time this week.

After a few minutes of just lying there, I throw on my robe and walk downstairs to make myself a cup of coffee. It's still dark outside, though not early enough in the morning to watch the mass exodus of Victors on their way to work at the academy. It's become somewhat a habit of mine that I make sure all my neighbours have left the village before I venture out for the day; running into one of them would be a problem to say the least and knowing what today is, people may not be running on their usual schedules.

I wait about twenty extra minutes while sipping on my coffee and looking out the window before I grab my own coat. It's a good thing I do, because I watch as Lyme trudges by my house headed east towards the academy.

I lock my door behind me and I throw on my hat and gloves as a light dusting of snow falls down from the sky. I head for the west exit of the village on the walk I do every morning. There are not many people to pass by via this route; in fact, my destination isn't often visited much at all by anyone but me. But like I always do, I pick up a few wildflowers as I trudge through the worn footpath in the forest.

It takes about twenty minutes of walking before I finally reach the rusted metal arches that read "Here Lies Those Womst Did Not Return Successfully." Most of the gravestones are mossy and have weeds grown over them despite my best attempts to keep as many clean and cleared as I can.