Always: A Hunger Games Fanfiction

Chapter 134

Katniss

Peeta and I, along with the other victors plus Effie, my mother, and Willow, silently take our seats in a long, black car. Peeta and I end up alone in the back seat, but it's not like it matters. I don't plan on doing much talking anyway.

"Are you okay, Katniss?" he asks as soon as we sit down. I don't verbally reply. I don't even look at him. I just nod my head and continue to stare straight ahead at the street in front of us that leads us to the memorial. "So now you aren't speaking either. What happened? What happened between now and this morning that caused you to shut everyone out? Did I do something?"

I shake my head no in response. He didn't do anything. None of them did. I just need space and time to grieve over the things I'm afraid may never get better. And that's what scares me the most. It's one of the sole reasons that I am pushing my family away. I'm afraid that I'll never get better, that things never will improve for me. Obviously most things have gotten better within the past years. But some things never change. The Games, the rebellion, the faces of the dead men, women, and children who were killed because of me will always be branded in my mind. They will always be in my thoughts. I'm terrified that if I let myself become exposed to other people, people who I care so much about, that I'm just going to hurt them too. Either way, I suppose I am hurting them. But I see this option as a way to lesson the heartache for them. I care too much about them to watch them get hurt because of me. And I'm willing to go through the suffering to protect them. I'll take the burden so they can be free. So that they don't have to.

Peeta doesn't speak the rest of the way. I try to block out the hushed conversations between the rest of them by staring at the light drizzle on the window next to where I sit. I watch the droplets as they cling to the window before they give up entirely and trickle down to nothingness. Somehow, I can relate to them. They try so hard to stay strong. Until they simply can't. Until some unseen force brings them down until they're reduced to nothing but a mere streak, a sign, of what they used to be.

When we arrive at the site of the memorial, the view I get through the windows of the thousands upon thousands of people waiting for us makes me sick to my stomach. At first, I can't find the strength to move my limbs. I'm frozen in time, clinging to whatever hope I have left.

They're all here to see me. The other victors too, but I was their beloved mockingjay. As much as I hate the thought of these people loving me as much as they do, I can't deny what they think of me. They look up to me, though I wish they didn't. Peeta should have been the mockingjay. He should have been rescued, not me. He could have handled this. He can make speeches and he's kind. I'm most certainly the opposite.

We step out of the car, and I keep my head down. I try my best to block out the roar of the crowd when they see my face. I tell myself that I can't see the stone walls before us that have the names of the people who cease to exist and the screens the size of my house above them, capturing my every move. I fake a smile and pretend that I wouldn't rather be anywhere else and that I'm not on the verge of tears. I pretend that with every second that passes, I'm not breaking inside.

Within a few short minutes, Peeta and the others have given their speeches. I take another glimpse at the stone walls and decide that Effie was right. I should say something. And so I do. I step up to the microphone at the front of the stage, Peeta at my side.

"I wasn't going to say anything today. I didn't think that I could," I begin quietly. "I've been pretending for a long time that this never happened. That the seemingly never ending list of names of people on that wall weren't real. I, like most of you, have people I loved whose names have been carved into the stone. I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all of your losses. I have my own too. I wish that I didn't. And I have to carry the burden on my shoulders everywhere I go. I'm sorry that I couldn't save more of them. I know some of you hate me and I can understand why. I'm not even completely sure why I'm telling you any of this. I'm just tired of the guilt. And I didn't know when I would have the chance to apologize to you. None of those people on that wall should be dead. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

I make it through my speech without any tears. I don't even shed one when the crowd begins to raise their left arms, three fingers pointed towards the air. The three finger salute derived from my district that symbolizes thanks and admiration. I back away from the microphone. I tried to tell them that I was sorry. I didn't mean to make them admire me more. If anything, I wanted them to hate me. I wanted them to see that it really is my fault that those who are dead are dead. I turn away from them, not sure I can look at any more of their innocent faces without feeling sick.

After Annie cuts the velvelt rope in front of the memorial, the victors are invited first to see the carvings up close for themselves. I'm not completely sure what to do with myself. I stand before the names from the 74th Hunger Games. The place where it all started and ended at the same time. My eyes scan over the names of Rue, Thresh, Cato, Clove, Glimmer, and Marvel. I'm almost surprised when I don't see the name Foxface with the others until I remember that it was only a nickname. Only a silly name I came up with in a very cruel game.

The 75th Games is carved only several inches to the right of the 74th. Mags, Wiress, Chaff, Seeder, Cashmere, Gloss. Of course the list here is far shorter than all of the others. Out of the 24 tributes, 6 got out alive. Four of those six are alive today. Beetee, Johanna, Peeta and I are the only survivors left from the third Quarter Quell.

Peeta kneels gazing at the other wall several yards from me. His right palm is planted flat against the wall. I can tell by the shaking of his shoulders that he's crying. He must be looking at the names of his family. Johanna stands before her games, Haymitch before his. At first I think I'm mistaken. Haymitch couldn't possibly be crying. But as I look closer, I see that he indeed is. Not much, but enough to notice. Effie stands next to him, her hand on his back. She's telling him words that I can't make out.

Not far from Peeta is Annie with young Finn by her side. She's holding him close. Her hands shake and I know that she's fighting to stay strong for her son, who casually brushes tears from his eyes as he gazes at the name of his dead father. The one he will never meet.

My mother bounces Willow in her arms. She's crying too. That's when my stomach plummets and I know it's time to face it. My mother is looking at the beautiful name Primrose Everdeen etched into the stone. I slowly make my way over to it, my arms crossed defensively across my body. I pass Peeta, who is attempting to collect himself. I pass Annie and Finn, who have both begun to cry and mourn the loss of Finnick together. I get to my mother who places her free hand on my cheek and backs away, giving me the space that I need. I run my fingers over the cold stone, a wretched noise threatening to spill out of my mouth. Prim's name shouldn't be here. She should be in District 12 with me. She deserved so much better. She deserved to be protected. And I couldn't do that.

I let my hand drop from the wall and turn away. It's just a name. It isn't her. It's not her, she isn't here. It takes every single ounce of strength I have left in my body to walk away. And I do.

Peeta has begun to walk over to me. "Are you okay?" he asks, his eyes puffy, his cheeks red. I stare at the ground for several seconds, seemingly unable to form words.

"I'm fine. It's just letters carved into stone. That's all they are," I whisper, desperately trying to cover up the sound of my voice cracking. I muster up the most emotionless gaze I can and turn away. Because somehow, I hope that if I can convince everyone else that this means nothing and that I'm okay, maybe I'll begin to believe it too.

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Hey everyone :) I'm not sure when this will actually go up because it's literally been two days since I updated last and I don't want to update too frequently because as you obviously know I already have wayyyyy too many chapters and that's because I used to update like everyday. Not even exaggerating.

I really don't have much to say but I definetely need new suggestions for this book!! I want to keep it going but I have like no ideas left to write about and the chapters end up being super dry and boring. I want to keep you guys interested so, for the next few chapters I'm taking suggestions from you. Just comment or DM me things that you want to see happen in this book that haven't happened. I will take basically any idea, as long as I haven't used it already.

ALSO it's to the point where I'm already considering a future book. Everlark one-shots maybe?? Let me know what you think! (you can DM or comment but pleeeeaaase tell me anything you want to happen. Like anything. Even if you think it's dumb. I want to hear from you and you will get a shoutout in your chapter<3)

-booklover2019