*Peeta's POV*
"Dear, Peeta.
I am so sorry.
I am so sorry for everything I have caused you. I am so sorry for everything you have given up for me, and all of the pain you have gone through because of me. I know how horrible I am to you, and I know how horrible it is to be with me, and I'm sorry.
I wish I could fix myself into the person you deserve, but I can't. I will never be that person, and I know you wanted me to be the best version of myself, but it's getting too hard, and you don't deserve to take the fall for that.
I am so sorry for doing this, you don't deserve it at all. In fact, you didn't deserve any of the things I did to you. I caused you so much loss and pain over all of my stupid nightmares, and my stupid problems.
I'm hoping you can find peace now that I'm gone.
There is a bunch of letters in the wooden cabinet in your art room. I'm sorry I hid them from you when you came into the art room.
This is not your fault, Peeta.
I love you.
—Katniss."
My hand trembles holding the piece of paper, rereading the letter over and over again. My mind imagines her voice reading it, and I don't know if it's a coping mechanism or my mind trying to hurt me even worse. I haven't dared to pick up the other letters that have my name on it.
In fact, I haven't dared to do anything but cry.
I can't look around the house without crying, because I've spent my entire life painting her. I can't close my eyes, because my mind is burned with memories of her. I can't sleep, because my dreams are filled with the days in which I actually had her.
I just want her back.
I'm so incredibly stupid and naive for leaving her in that art room. If I would've noticed—everything would've been different. She would be here right now, and I'd be able to hold her through one of her nightmares. She would be alive, and I could make sure this wouldn't happen.
I remember what happened so vividly.
I remember finding her in the room, collapsed on the ground. Her face was so—pale. Rye was right behind me, and he saw it too. That's the second time he's seen her dead and I—I can't help him with that trauma.
I remember them doing everything they could to get your heart pumping again in that aircraft, but as soon as they reached the hospital, you flatlined again.
How could I let this happen?
They told me they did everything they could, they tried so hard—but you're too stubborn.
You came back the last time.
I should've known you wouldn't this time.
_
The phone rings in the hallway, and it takes everything in me to stand and walk towards it. I reluctantly pick it up, and I try my best to make my voice sound as if I haven't been crying for the past day.
"Hello?" A voice calls out, and I immediately recognize it.
"Hey." I say, closing my eyes to prevent any tears.
"Is it true?" Delly asks, and I have to pause before answering.
"Yeah—" I falter, and I cough to cover up the crack in my voice. "Yesterday."
Just yesterday, my entire life changed.
"Peeta, I'm so sorry." Her voice is soft, and it makes me miss Katniss even more.
"Thank you." I reply, accepting her condolences.
There's a silence over the phone, but it's not an uncomfortable silence.
"Do you need anything?" She asks eventually, and I laugh at the question.
"I don't think you can bring her back." I remark through tears. "So, no."
"Peeta, I didn't mean to—" she says quickly, but I call her off.
"I know." My voice breaks, but all I can think about is Katniss.
I can barely tolerate this mere conversation, let alone think of someone helping me that isn't her.
"I should go." I say, and I don't wait for her to reply.
I slam the phone on the holder before making my way to the living room, staring at a certain painting of her on the wall. I notice a crack in the paint on her face, and I falter at the sight.
I immediately reach up and unhang the painting from the tall wall, and I carry it into my art room.
I spend the next days in there, perfecting and redoing the artwork a million times just to make it perfect.
I don't notice myself mumbling random words and thoughts to myself, and I don't notice anything besides the painting itself.
In fact, I don't notice when Willow and Flynn go to her bedroom and don't come back downstairs, and I don't notice Rye quietly stumble in.
_
*Flynn's POV*
I feel her begin to awaken in my arms, and my heart sinks as I watch her open her eyes.
Her being awake unlocks so many fears for me—knowing she's not safe with herself, and knowing she's not safe in her own thoughts.
Not being able to protect her from herself kills me, and I'm so scared that this exact thing will eventually happen to her.
Speaking of which, I don't even know what to do with myself anymore.
When I needed anything, Katniss was always there for me. We had so many heartfelt conversations, and spent so much time together, and now that's all gone. I miss her so much, but I feel like I can't grieve her. I need to comfort Willow, so my feelings are put on hold.
I'm dragged out of my dwelling thoughts by the sight of her very blue eyes looking up at me.
"How long have I been asleep?" She asks, and I shrug my shoulders before reaching up and taming her blonde hair.
"Not long enough." I say, looking at the dark circles under her eyes. "Go back to sleep, Lo."
I can tell she debates this, because I see her look out the window, trying to get an idea on what time it is.
Unfortunately, looking at the window brings her eyes to my desk, where my opened letter lies.
"You opened your letter?" She asks, and I nod my head.
"I wanted answers." I admit, tucking her hair behind her ear so I can see her face more clearly.
"Should I read mine?" I smile at her soft voice, but I don't give her a direct answer.
"Are you ready to read it?" I ask, knowing how fragile she is on the inside.
She nods her head at me, and I lean over and grab her letter. I watch as she carefully opens the fold of the envelope, and I notice her hand trembles as she holds the letter.
Slowly but surely, she unfolds the letter and begins to read it. I track her every movement and reaction, but I'm worried when the only emotion I see on her face is sadness.
"Can you read this so that when I want to cry to you about it, you'll understand?" She asks, her voice and eyes both filled with tears.
I nod my head in response, and she hands me the letter to read.
Automatically, I can feel the emotions throughout this letter, and it's almost as if Katniss wrote this to me.
"Dear, Willow.
I'm so sorry, darling.
I'm so sorry for everything.
I am so sorry for ruining you, and causing you to become so alike to myself. I know there are things you hide from me, and I know you learned to starve yourself because of me.
I wish I could take it all back and be the mother you and Rye deserve, but I can't. So, I decided to do what would cause you to have a better life.
But, to insure you have a better life, I have to make one thing clear. I want it to be clear that you are not the reason I did this, and the only person to blame for this is myself.
In fact, you are one of the only things that kept me here for so long. Fighting with my inner self was incredibly challenging, because half of me wanted to be gone, and the other half wanted to be there for you.
Unfortunately, I chose the first option, because it outweighed the second.
I am so sorry, darling.
I can't wait to see how you grow and flourish without me in your way.
I love you, so much.
- Mom."
I take a deep breath after reading the letter and I look up at Willow.
"I wasn't enough for her, Flynn." She remarks, and her wall that was stopping the tears comes crashing sown, and her face is flooded.
"Willow." I say softly, before pulling her towards me. "That's not true at all, sweetheart."
"She said it in that letter." She doesn't allow me to pull her close, and instead moves out of my arms.
I give her a look as she does this, but she ultimately keeps her ground and stays out of my arms.
"Let me hold you." I say, motioning at the tears running down her face.
"No—" she waves me off, and even though it hurts, I remain grateful that she's even here.
"If you don't want to talk about it, that's okay." I start, standing from my bed. "But you can't just cry and not expect me to comfort you."
"I'm sorry." She remarks, and I watch as even more tears pour down her cheeks.
"There's no need to be sorry, Lo." I reach down and wipe all of her tears, and I let my hands linger on her cheeks. "Let's go back to your house, and then you can eat something and go to bed."
"I don't want to go to bed, Flynn." She says. "I can't sleep without dreaming of her."
"Let's go on a walk then." I pull on her hands, avoiding her wrists, and I flash a small smile at her.
She rolls her eyes at me, and I wait for the gloss in her eyes to disappear before going to tell my mother that we're leaving.
Of course, my mother doesn't care, and I'm not even sure that she processed the few words I said to her. I'm not even sure she understood that Katniss is dead.
She's practically gone too, and it's almost as if I've lost the only two women figures in my life.
"Where do you want to walk to?" I ask, interlocking my right hand in her left so I can be on the side of the sidewalk that's facing the road.
"Wherever my mom is." She mutters, and I give her a melancholy look.
"Willow." I say under my breath, but she shrugs it off and begins to look in the distance.
"We can walk to bakery, but I have to bake a few things for my dad." She remarks, and I begin to swing our hands in an effort to get her to smile.
She does, but then she speaks again and a scowl immediately returns to my face.
"But I'm not eating anything." She stares at the ground, and I notice her blonde wavy hair falling onto her shoulders and down her back.
"You realize that if you eat something it wouldn't affect how you look, right?" I ask, dumbfounded.
"Flynn—" she calls me off, but I interrupt her.
"I'm serious, Lo." I start. "You're insanely gorgeous, and you always have been. I don't understand why you think you can't eat."
"Stop, Flynn." She brings her hand up and begins fumbling with her necklace, and I notice. "I don't want to talk about this, please."
I don't say anymore.
If I wouldn't have noticed her playing with her necklace, I would've kept going. But I know she only does that when she's on the verge of a panic attack, so I decided to let it go.
The rest of the walk is peaceful. I actually mouth a 'thank you' to all of the reporters, because they give Willow space, and don't even attempt to interview her.
I'm hoping that them staying away was a sign from Katniss, letting me know that it'll all be okay.
Please, Katniss.
Make this all okay.