And that was the thing about her, she kept on surviving. With bullet holes in her lungs and knife marks etched in her back. She never let anything get in her way, resilient. A fighter, not by choice. But a warrior at heart.
| the hunger games |
| pr...
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Each day that passes by is the same, and it has been for five years now. Ever since I won the Games five years ago. The people in the Captiol adore me but I find it more and more difficult to tolerate them. It's been four years since Snow came to visit me and informed me of what I would have to do for the people of the Captiol.
I've noticed that I've changed. I barely even talk to my mother any more, there's nothing real I can say to her. I can't tell her anything, and it kills me when she asks why I act like this. I want to tell her but I'm afraid what the President would do to her if he were to find out.
The only person I really talk to anymore is Finnick Odair. A fellow victor who suffers the same fate as I do. He is only a few years older than me, but the two of us quickly became best friends. We bonded over the truma that we've both been through. How we were both so young when we won the Games. It took me a while to open up.
That was something that I always had trouble with. Even before the Games I never told anyone how I truly felt. I had no friends so it was easy, but then in the arena, I made friends. I knew then that it was stupid because it wouldn't last. Maybe a part of me just didn't want to be alone through all of it, maybe I was just being selfish. But then those friends died, Calyptus and Monty, making me think that everyone who got close to me was doomed to their fate.
But after spending time with Finnick, traveling to District Four where he is from, and getting to know him I realized that I don't have to be alone. He is someone that went through the exact same thing as me. I realized that we can help each other through the nightmares and visits to the Capitol.
Sitting at the kitchen table now, I stare into the mug in my hands that was filled with tea, the warmth gone from it. I've been sitting like this for a while as I waited for the sun to rise, this is how I spend most of my nights. Locked away in thoughts, my sleep distrubed my nightmares from my time in the arena. I barely get sleep because I'm scared of what I'll see when I do.
I usually see the ghosts of my friends blaming me for their deaths. They tell me that they deserved to live and I don't. I want to scream at them that they are correct but I can't form the words, I just stare at them as tears prick my eyes.
I thought that as the years went by that the pain from the arena would fade away, but now at the age of twenty, the agony hasn't gone away. It's still a painful reminder of what I did in order to survive. I have wished many times that I could go back and save my friends by dying for them. But I can't change the past, I can only relive it.
The sun peaks in through the window as I hear my mother in her room getting ready for the day. She doesn't have to work anymore, we have more than enough money, but she still does. I think it's because she would get bored all day sitting around doing nothing, or maybe it's because she wants our lives to go back to the way they were just like I do.
