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setsthetrapRubble still remains, pockets of ash among the new buildings constructed. Not all of District 12 has been rebuilt and refurbished in the past year. Ground has been broken for a new pharmaceutical plant, fields plowed, business slowly coming back to life. It's not the same place it was a year ago when she had returned, broken and defeated. A shell of the girl she used to be. Nor is it the place she remembers growing up in. It's something different now. Something new that arose in the ashes.
And maybe it's much the same for her, too. Though she holds the pain of her sister's death close to her heart and the horrors of the Hunger Games visit her nightly in her dreams, she no longer lets them swallow her alive. Some days are better than others. Some nights, more capable of sleeping through. But since spring's arrival a couple of weeks ago, she's made certain to get out to the woods every morning. While Peeta bakes, she hunts. Their afternoons are sometimes spent together, sometimes spent alone as they do their own small parts to help with the District's rebuilding.
It's a routine. A fairly regular routine that's helped her get from day to day, week to week. Sometimes it's tedious. Sometimes she wants nothing more than the curl into a ball and die. Find that death she deserves, that should have claimed her instead of Prim. Other days, she's almost thankful to be still alive.
Today's oddly become one of the latter days. What started out as a disappointing hunt in drizzly April weather had since turned into a successful trip. She carries with her two ducks as she makes her way from the woods towards the Hawthorne residence. Even if it still hurts to think of him from time to time, she's made certain to help Mrs. Hawthorne out these past few months. Whenever she has a little extra meat from her hunt, or Peeta bakes more bread than he can sell, she makes certain to stop by.
But she never expects to see him. Because she always pictures him in District 2 with his fancy job, kissing another pair of lips. Forgetting her entirely. And maybe it's better that way. Maybe it's better for both of them to keep apart and heal alone.
It's not how she ever expected they'd end up.
Pushing stray thoughts aside, she knocks on the door before pushing it open. It's mid-afternoon and the children should be in school. But it's easier some days not to deal with their smiles and their questions. Like it is today.
"Mrs. Hawthorne?" She walks towards the kitchen, knowing the route by heart. "Are you home?"
And maybe it's much the same for her, too. Though she holds the pain of her sister's death close to her heart and the horrors of the Hunger Games visit her nightly in her dreams, she no longer lets them swallow her alive. Some days are better than others. Some nights, more capable of sleeping through. But since spring's arrival a couple of weeks ago, she's made certain to get out to the woods every morning. While Peeta bakes, she hunts. Their afternoons are sometimes spent together, sometimes spent alone as they do their own small parts to help with the District's rebuilding.
It's a routine. A fairly regular routine that's helped her get from day to day, week to week. Sometimes it's tedious. Sometimes she wants nothing more than the curl into a ball and die. Find that death she deserves, that should have claimed her instead of Prim. Other days, she's almost thankful to be still alive.
Today's oddly become one of the latter days. What started out as a disappointing hunt in drizzly April weather had since turned into a successful trip. She carries with her two ducks as she makes her way from the woods towards the Hawthorne residence. Even if it still hurts to think of him from time to time, she's made certain to help Mrs. Hawthorne out these past few months. Whenever she has a little extra meat from her hunt, or Peeta bakes more bread than he can sell, she makes certain to stop by.
But she never expects to see him. Because she always pictures him in District 2 with his fancy job, kissing another pair of lips. Forgetting her entirely. And maybe it's better that way. Maybe it's better for both of them to keep apart and heal alone.
It's not how she ever expected they'd end up.
Pushing stray thoughts aside, she knocks on the door before pushing it open. It's mid-afternoon and the children should be in school. But it's easier some days not to deal with their smiles and their questions. Like it is today.
"Mrs. Hawthorne?" She walks towards the kitchen, knowing the route by heart. "Are you home?"
