𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 ✧ 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐎𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐫

25

꧁𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨꧂

𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚔

There were better things to do in life than sitting in a basement wishing every passing second could go quicker and we'd be able to leave this mess, yet I couldn't do any of it. I couldn't go back and undo my wrongs and neither could Katniss, yet I still hold her responsible for all of this. For Ashley's death, for us going back into the games, for the torture of Blair, the death of Mags, the loss, the devastation, the destruction and the outcome we've come to find ourselves at. I blame her.
I know I shouldn't, she didn't know what the consequences of her actions would be but she did know it would be something like this, something no one could undo. And I don't think it's something I can get over.

Soft whispers painted the walls, it's hard to tell if they're real or just made up in my head anymore. My eyes are screwed shut and I think I understand how Peeta may feel just a little bit as the words and voices blur to one, Blair. It can't be real, she can't be here, but what if she is? What if 13 has been bombed and she's dead and i don't even know it? What if she found a way to the battle field in hopes of finding me? What if she is happier with me gone?

Something is wrong with me, I know it now, something that'll never be fixed ever again with any amount of medicine or money, something in me is forever missing. Gone with Ashley down the damp sewer that sat ablaze.

Unscrewing my eyes, unclenching my jaw and relaxing my fists I sit up letting myself adjust to the dark lighting. The whispers paused.

"It's not your fault Katniss," I hear from the boy sitting next to her as I turn in that same direction. She sat frozen and stiff, I can tell she hears the same as me. Maybe we're not so different in this moment as I thought we were only days ago.

She shakes her head looking away from me hoping to hide her glistening eyes in the darkness surrounding us, "it is, and I'm sorry." Her voice is wobbly, shaken.

"Don't bother with apologies, the past is unchangeable now," my voice just beyond a whisper because I can't become the torture that'll be there for rest of her life.

"I am, I lied, to all of you, I'm the reason we're here now with the majority of us no longer fighting," everyone turned."I lied, there was no mission to kill Snow, I'm the reason they all died," everything stopped.

Part of me already knew of this information, all of me knew actually, but why is it now I'm only fully understanding the situation at hand. It wasn't just Katniss that caused the deaths, it's every one of us that went along with her fake mission knowing it wasn't real. I am the reason Ashley is dead, not just Katniss.

People are talking but nothing is getting through my head except the unbearable ringing that is constantly there, keeping me awake and knowing. I killed Ashley.

People are talking but nothing is getting through my head except the thoughts of how many deaths I unknowingly took part in. I killed them all.

I kept Katniss alive.

•••

It's hard understand death, what happens before, during and after. It's just as hard to understand life; what happens before, during and after. It's hard understanding how I should be feeling, happy, mad, upset? It's even harder to come to terms that you're the reason to so many deaths.

I never asked to be in the Hunger Games, nobody really does, only a select few and they go in knowing most likely to never make it out. I never asked to be in the Hunger Games, but others did. So someone tell me why this is fair, because it's not, it was never meant to be.
Capital citizens probably don't know the deaths they caused by being so consumed in the glorified misery. They probably don't know that just by interacting or sending sponsors they caused a child's brutal murder. They probably didn't know like I didn't know, so how is any of this really fair?

My eyes feel damp as I remember every shell I gifted Blair, every conversation and every cry we shared. I remember my reaping, my return... her reaping. Her return.

I remember the time between the games, the free moments we spent together, talking, running... running from the cries, the screams, the shattered plate against the floor, relaxing in caves, wandering the market, the walks on the beach... the beach that we once called our own, our safe place.

I remember the killing, the lies and the destruction, the secrets and the pain.

I remember the things I truly wish I had went on with life without knowing a single thing about them.
But we can't pick and choose our lives.

My eyes brush the light looking for something that could possibly distract me from thinking any more but nothing was there apart from the few sleeping bodies or some fur coats. Nothing down here seemed appealing to me not even a small fashion show for the giggles like what I'd do back home with all the clothes I'd been given after my games. My mind now focused on Blair once again. Is she still safe in 13? Does she even think I'm alive after the broadcasting?

The constant pounding in my head never seemed to stop or take a breather for what felt like days down in the dingy basement of this shop. I don't remember getting any sleep but then again what else could happen doing down here. It hasn't slipped my notice the planning Gale and Katniss have been partaking in whilst they believed everyone was out of earshot or fast asleep. It hasn't slipped my notice than they're planning to keep this between them.

Authors note:

Hey guys,
I know this isn't the best but I will edit it in the future so don't worry. I just really wanted to get something out since I've been very busy with exams and I'm going away for a month so don't expect lots soon but I will try as best as I can to get a draft written.

Yours sincerely ~ randomstoryzgirl/author