*Johanna's POV
They always thought all my scars were from battle.
Little did they know, that the majority of them were from a battle within.
I have scars all over my thighs and forearms. And they are from my own blade.
I do it because I deserve it. I killed my brother and this is my payment. As much pain as I can cause myself, maybe it'll take some of his pain, wherever he is.
All I can think is this, when President Snow announced the "death mission". But then I think, "I can further it."
I can do the mission and die.
I can be free and my brother could rest in peace.
"We'll do it." I state loudly, not thinking about Gale.
President Snow doesn't seem surprised by my answer. But Gale on the other hand, is a different story.
"What? Are you crazy? This mission is a death wish!"
I know.
"How else am I gonna get away from this?"
I question him, the guilt and pain of my brother, hitting me full force, like it has so many days before.
His eyes turn dark and he suddenly turns to Snow. "We need to talk, privately.
Snow, surprisingly, turns to leave.
Once Snow is gone, Gale comes beside me.
"Johanna, are you crazy? This mission is a death trap, I know it."
He says these words more gently than the first time.
"I don't care! I just want out, I want to go."
I sound hysterical to my own ears.
He comes even nearer and puts his hands on my shoulders. I squirm, wanting his hands off.
"Johanna, listen to me."
He begins, softly.
"You don't want to die. You have your whole life ahead of you and your brother wouldn't want you to die. He'd want you to live."
Tears are now flowing over my cheeks and I am powerless to stop them. How can I go on? How can I live like this.
"But I've killed so many..."
I whisper, as fresh tears cascade down my cheeks.
"Which is why we don't need another death."
He answers me.
And I cry all the harder.
My shell has finally broken. I'm no longer the hardened slave I used to be.
I am weak.
Gale looks lost. His arms are still around me and he just stands there.
I continue to cry, the pent-up pain of all the years pouring out.
Why won't he let me die?
Almost immediately after this thought, his lips touch mine.
Before I can even react, I think
"This is why."
So I kiss him back.
I have not kissed someone in years.
I am starved for human touch, though the starvation was self-inflicted.
I press my body as close as I can get to his.
