[Yes she does, she wants to shout. She needs this place, needs it as much as Clove might. Or Cato. Here, she has no notoriety. No one knows of Katniss Everdeen, the girl from District Twelve who volunteered for the Hunger Games in place of her sister. The girl who was on fire. The Mockingjay. Coin's assassin. No one has ever heard of her. Even with the hijackings and the drafts and the games constantly being played by the Malnosso, she clings to that. Clings to the fact that she can live her life without worry of being watched by Panem's new government, without fear of being judged for taking Coin's life.
For taking all those lives.
And she can be loved by the boy that she loves without worry that he might someday kill her. Peeta hadn't faced the Quarter Quell yet. Hadn't been hijacked by Snow. This had been the boy with the bread here with her, the boy that she had fallen in love with. Maybe someone as unfeeling as Katniss Everdeen didn't deserve that. But for those couple of months, she could pretend. She could try.
But all that was gone now. She still needed this place, still needed him beside her. A boy that loved her unconditionally, that reminded her of the dandelion in the spring rather than all the fire that blackened her heart. Life had been good here. And now?
It's too much. It's all too much. The accusations, the reminders. He'll be alive but he won't be the same. She'll be under the watchful eye of Dr. Aurelius again, of the Capitol. The nightmares that haunt her every night here will be made all the more real, the reminders of the Hunger Games and the uprisings everywhere.
If she ever gets back there. If.
In the end, it really only does take seconds. To select the arrow, to pull back the string, to fire the projectile in Clove's direction. Her aim is immaculate despite the tears clouding her vision and the water falling around them. It barely grazes the girl's sleeve, just enough to rip at the threads and leave a gaping hole. The girl is already dead. There's no reason to kill her again.]
action;
For taking all those lives.
And she can be loved by the boy that she loves without worry that he might someday kill her. Peeta hadn't faced the Quarter Quell yet. Hadn't been hijacked by Snow. This had been the boy with the bread here with her, the boy that she had fallen in love with. Maybe someone as unfeeling as Katniss Everdeen didn't deserve that. But for those couple of months, she could pretend. She could try.
But all that was gone now. She still needed this place, still needed him beside her. A boy that loved her unconditionally, that reminded her of the dandelion in the spring rather than all the fire that blackened her heart. Life had been good here. And now?
It's too much. It's all too much. The accusations, the reminders. He'll be alive but he won't be the same. She'll be under the watchful eye of Dr. Aurelius again, of the Capitol. The nightmares that haunt her every night here will be made all the more real, the reminders of the Hunger Games and the uprisings everywhere.
If she ever gets back there. If.
In the end, it really only does take seconds. To select the arrow, to pull back the string, to fire the projectile in Clove's direction. Her aim is immaculate despite the tears clouding her vision and the water falling around them. It barely grazes the girl's sleeve, just enough to rip at the threads and leave a gaping hole. The girl is already dead. There's no reason to kill her again.]