Hello, world. I am not sure if anybody will like this story (because I am, of course, not the writing god Suzanne Collins is) but I just kinda got the idea, and wanted to see if it would take me anywhere. Here is the first chapter of the story that I am hoping will have plenty more. Tell me if you like it or not:)

Ever After

1

"It's was the waste of a trip. She's not here," I tell him. Buttercup hisses again. "She's not here. You can hiss all you like. You won't find Prim." At her name, he perks up. Raises his flattened ears. Begins to meow hopefully. "Get out!" He dodges the pillow I throw at him. "Go away! There's nothing left for you here!" I start to shake, furious with him. "She's not coming back! She's never ever coming back here again!" I grab another pillow and get to my feet to improve my aim. Out of nowhere, the tears begin to pour down my cheeks. "She's dead." I clutch my middle to dull the pain. Sink down on my heels, rocking the pillow, crying. "She's dead, you stupid cat. She's dead." A new sound, part crying, part singing, comes out of my body, giving voice to my despair. Buttercup begins to wail as well. No matter what I do, he won't go. He circles me, just out of reach, as wave after wave of sobs racks my body, until eventually I fall unconscious. But he must understand. He must know that the unthinkable has happened and to survive will require previously unthinkable acts. Because hours later, when I come to in my bed, he's there in the moonlight. Crouched beside me, yellow eyes alert, guarding me from the night.

The world seems to beat down on me at that moment. I feel everything, ten times, a hundred times, a thousand times worse than before. I see all the faces that died because of me, swimming right before my eyes where more and more tears were welling up. Many of them I practically owe my life to. Rue, who became my ally and warned me about the tracker jackers, who was mercilessly killed right before me, who I sang to in her last moment of life. Cinna, who turned me into something beautiful and amazing, who believed in me no matter how much the odds weren't in my favor, who was tortured to death because he made me who I am today. Boggs, who always seemed to have control over every situation, who knew that every moment with me was more than just a risk, who died trying to protect me. Finnick, whose eyes I still sometimes see glowing in the dark, who never got to say goodbye and was killed directly by me, who would ever only be truly happy when he was with Annie. Prim, who I love more than anybody, who I had failed to save despite all my efforts, who I would never see again. The many other faces of tributes, people from District 12, rebels, and all the other also swum in and out of my vision. All of them would never see another day, would never know how a life without the Capitol would feel. How could I ever forgive myself? How can I survive while so many others who deserve it more didn't?

I cried myself to sleep, and was slightly surprised to find Buttercup still here in the morning. It was the first real feeling I had felt in a long time. I lay in bed, waiting for the depression to pull me under again, or maybe even sleep, but they never come. Instead, I see Buttercup's piercing, yellow eye looking at me, questioning me. It was as if he was mentally asking why I, who had survived unlike so many others, was wasting my life, while those who are dead would want me to live on for them. Why was I here, trying to shut out life? Nobody wanted this for me. Prim worried about my death more than a girl of her age should. I tried to push Prim out of my mind, but she stuck no matter what. It all started with Prim. How I tried to save her when her named got picked. My thoughts retreated back to a time right before I went in to my first Games. She wanted me to win, to survive, to beat the odds. I did, but never did I expect for her to not be here with me.

I knew from that moment on, I would try. Try to breathe in and out. Try to get out of bed in the mornings. Try to live, because that's what Prim would have wanted. That's what all of those who were dead, whom I loved dearly, would have wanted. I made a promise to myself at that moment. They would not be forgotten. Never. The memories will live on. I will live on for them. It was going to be hard. I was all alone. Everyone I loved was gone. They were all pushed away from me, out of my reach. Buttercup then meowed, as if to remind that I wasn't alone. That he, if nobody else, knew how I felt. I started to pull out thorns and clean his cuts, knowing that this was the beginning of something different between the two of us. We cried constantly, but we comforted each other, knowing that it was all we really needed at the moment. To mourn. To say goodbye.

I felt a lot stronger than I have in a while. I climbed out of my bed at that moment. Buttercup was quick at my heels. I knew what I had to do. I knew there was one other, who would know the pain as well as me. Maybe even more, if she couldn't even face the place where she called home for so long. My mother. She didn't come back, but I didn't blame her. I probably wouldn't of wanted to come back either, but there was nowhere else for me. I walked into the kitchen and found her letter laying exactly where I left it, untouched, for what could have been seconds or years. I grabbed it off the counter where so many other letters were left unopened. I recognized my mother's writing at once. It seemed shakier than usual and the paper was stained with tears, but it was still hers.

Katniss,

I know you will probably never forgive me for not coming back, and I don't expect you to, but I can't. I can't face the place where so many memories are hidden, of your father, of Prim. When your father died, I didn't believe I could even go on, and I know you thought so too. I am trying my hardest not to do the same with Prim's death. These days, it takes all my strength to get out of bed. They meant the world to me, and as do you. You have grown so strong, stronger than I could ever dream of being. I love you more than anything on this Earth. Always remember that. If I thought for a second that you still needed me there with you and that I would be any help, I would have probably gone back with you, but I know you better than that. You needed the space, and probably still do. But always remember, I am still here for you. Call me or visit me if you want. I will always be waiting to hear from you.

Love, Your Mother

I had underestimated my mother. She knew me better than I thought she did. She knew, even though I didn't, that I needed space and time. And she knew, her coming back would only make things worse. She took the chance to leave this place not only to escape but also out of love. A phone number was also inside the envelope. I pulled it out and walked over towards the telephone. I had forgiven my mother. I know truly knew that this was all beyond her control. I couldn't blame her for any of it.

I wasn't really expecting her to answer. I thought she would be out trying to with the hospital. But on the third ring I heard her sweet voice. It was hoarse, as if she had been crying a lot. "Hello?" I heard the single word, as it pierced through me.

"Mom?" I said, barely over a whisper.

She spoke in an excited voice, "Katniss? Is that you?"

"Yeah, Mom." I replied, tears welling up in my eyes. We started out talking about easy topics, like how things were going in District 4, and how I was situating to life on my own. Then we moved on the harder topics. We mourned over Prim's death together. I was crying harder than ever. I relied on her more than I have ever in years. I assured her I would be ok and would call often. She told me that if I ever needed her for anything, that I should just tell her. I didn't push her offer to the back of my mind, like the old Katniss would have. I was trying to be new and reinvented. I wanted to be good and to be happy.

I hung up the phone, feeling like things actually may have gotten a little better. I paused, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath in. The weight of the world still seemed to be on my shoulder, I still saw the faces of all the dead, but it all wasn't threatening to crush me.

That's about when Greasy Sae walked in. I heard two pairs of footstep walking down the hall, automatically thinking she brought her granddaughter. Instead, I saw Peeta walk into the room behind her. He was carrying a loaf of bread. I hadn't seen him since he planted the primroses. He briefly smiled at me as he passed into the room. I never thought I would see a smile from him directed towards me again. He was changed, that much was true. But weren't we all changed? I knew I was. He may not be the old Peeta, but I was seeing more and more touches of him every day. Maybe he would never become the old Peeta completely, but that was ok at the moment. He was here though. He was trying. It felt like an omen. Like the world was saying that everything was all right.

Greasy Sae quickly started making breakfast. I smelt bacon and eggs. Peeta started to cut the bread slowly with a knife, as if it took all his concentration. I didn't know what to say to him. He was always better with word. But somehow I found myself saying, "Are you ok?"

He looked up from the bread, observing me closely with a slightly confused look on his face. He didn't say anything at first, but then he opened his mouth and said, "I think so. I feel like I am sorting out the truths from the lies all the time, but it's becoming easier and easier by the moment. How about you?"

The conversation seemed a bit too formal. I knew it would be like this for a while. "I am still trying to remember how to breathe on some days," I said, with a nervous laugh, "but I am figuring it out. I think I'll be alright."

Greasy Sae then put two plates of eggs and bacon in front of us. After we reassured her that we would get the dishes, she left. We scraped at our plates in silence, not an awkward one though. I felt more like we enjoying each other's company. I was feeding all my bacon to Buttercup, as a thank you for giving me the will to live.

I looked up at Peeta, who had paused staring at his food. "You once asked me," I suddenly said, thinking about a time that seemed like ages ago, during our Victory Tour, "if we could try being friends. I am still willing to try, if you are up to it."

He looked up from his food. His face was serious. "I think we can do that," he said with a faint smile on his lips.

I felt joy bubble up inside of me. I was glad he was with me.