Chapter 1

A/N – I really wanted this story to flow directly out of Mockingjay and so I've used some of the main themes of Chapter 27 to set things up. I'm planning to take the story in a new direction, so I hope you stick with me!

Musical inspiration: Shatter Me by Lindsey Stirling featuring Lzzy Hale

I sit in my mother's chair by the fire with her shawl draped over my shoulders, where I have sat every day since Haymitch brought me back to District 12 from the Capitol.

Haymitch has not been back to see me since he left me in the courtyard between our homes in the Victor's Village with a letter from my mother when we got off the hovercraft. I didn't bother to read the letter. It's sitting in a pile on the mantel with all the rest of the mail that's been coming in. Greasy Sae brings it to me every morning when she comes to make me breakfast. She's almost as alone here as me. She and her granddaughter Lily are the only people in her family who survived the bombing of District 12. They came back with about a dozen others who are living in the other homes in the Victor's Village while they work to rebuild. Lily pretty much lives in her own world and Sae takes care of us both.

Every morning, I try to figure out my next move, but I can't seem to make it. I haven't left the kitchen yet, except to go to the small bathroom a few steps away. For whatever reason, the fire and my mother's chair feel safe to me, like the closets in the presidential mansion or the ventilation shafts of District 13. The rest of the house looms dark, cold and empty, with ghosts and memories of Prim lurking around every corner. I'm in the same clothes I left the Capitol in. My hair, burned off in places the fire that billowed through the Capitol after Coin dropped Gale and Beetee's bomb, is growing longer and hangs in matted lanks around my face. Sometimes the phone rings and rings, but I don't pick up.

I seem to be waiting for something.

Sae keeps suggesting I get out of the house and try hunting again. "The fresh air will do you good, Girlie," she tells me today as she leaves to take Lily to school. When the door begins to close, I hear her call out, "Your bow is down the hall." I decide to pull myself out of my mother's chair and find Mockingjay bow on the desk in the study, where I had my meeting with President Snow, along with my father's hunting jacket and a box.

I have to approach the desk to get the bow. I can still see Snow sitting there smugly, letting me know that the Capitol owns me, telling me that Peeta and I have somehow sowed the seeds of a revolution and it is up to us to put the fire out. Or I will lose everything. I guess he was right about that. The memory of the sickly sweet stench of the rose in his lapel drives me from the room. I grab the box and my father's jacket and flee to the living room.

I wrap myself in my father's jacket and start to sort through the box I found in the study. It holds the items I smuggled into District 13 after I made them bring me back here so that I could see the damage caused by Snow's bombs. I find our plant book, my parents' wedding photo, the spile Haymitch sent in and the locket Peeta gave me in the arena. The pearl he gave me is gone. I know I had it with me when we stormed the Capitol. I suspect it was thrown out with what was left of the Mockingjay uniform that Cinna made me when they cut me out of it in the hospital after the fire. Still wearing my father's jacket, I curl up on the couch.

I am in a grave and the people I've killed are all lined up to throw dirt over me. The line snakes through the Victor's Village and into the town. I see their faces as they peer down into the hole at me, shovel in hand. The Careers. Rue. Finnick. Mags. Messalla. Boggs. Cinna. Madge. Faces from the Hob. My classmates and teachers. Our neighbours in the Seam. Prim. "It's your fault," each one says. The weight of each shovelful of soil feels like I am being punched. I awake on the couch with a scream, trying to claw my way out of the grave. I can't breathe. My chest is heaving.

The shovel continues to scrape, grating against what's left of my sanity. It goes on and on, dragging me off the sofa and down the all where it gets louder. It's outside and so I burst out the front door, half mad with anxiety and fear, ready to take on the ghosts with my bare hands.

I pull up short. His face is flushed from digging up the ground under my windows. In a wheelbarrow are five scraggly bushes. "You're back."

"Dr. Aurelius wouldn't let me come back until yesterday," Peeta says. "By the way, he says he can't keep pretending to be treating you forever. You have to pick up the phone."

I don't answer. I am still trying to process that Peeta has returned, and he looks more like my Peeta than I have seen since they lifted me out of the arena after the Quarter Quell. His is thinner and covered in burn scars like me. He has dark circles under his eyes, but the ice he has been carrying in his blue eyes has thawed. He seems sad, but no longer as tortured and confused.

He looks at me and frowns with concern.

"I went into the woods this morning and dug these up. For her," he says. "I thought we could plant them along this side of the house." I look down and the bushes and see that they are evening primrose. How like Peeta to think of a perfect tribute to her. I nod and rush back into the house.

I run upstairs for the first time since I've been home. I burst into my room and am once again struck by the scent of roses. I search my room frantically. This time the smell is real. Snow has been dead for months, but the calling card he left me after the bombing remains. Among the dried flowers in a vase near my bed, sits a perfect white rose. Its perfume still lingers in the air.

I gag and grab the vase rushing down the stairs to the kitchen. I hurl the vase into the fireplace where it crashes against the brick, the dried flowers falling into the flames. They combust and orange tongues lick at the rose. Suddenly, a burst of blue flame flares up and envelopes it.

Message received and answered.

When I get back upstairs I throw the windows of my room open to the fresh air, frantic to rid myself of the odor of roses. Even with the windows open, I can still smell them and so I strip off my clothes. Flakes of skin the size of playing cards fall away from my body and onto the floor. I kick the clothes into a corner and walk into my adjoining bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror for the first time since my return, examining my face carefully. My complexion is sallow and dark rings hang below my eyes. The new skin they gave me in the Capitol is still pink and raw. I am struck again by the idea that I look like one of the quilts my mother used to make out of old clothes when they could no longer be mended.

I am a patchwork of skin. My mind is loosely sewn together. My emotions wrap so tightly around me, that I feel as though I may suffocate. I have lost everyone. Prim is dead. My mother has all but abandoned me - again. Sae says Gale has a big military job in District 2. The Peeta who loved me is gone, replaced by a tortured soul who suffered at Snow's hands because of me.

Peeta.

He looked healthy. How is that possible? He has lost everything. His family. His memories. How does he get through the day? How does he manage to go on with his life? Prim is dead and every day is an effort for me just remember to breathe in and out. He must think I am broken beyond repair. Yesterday, I would have said that was true. Today, I managed to get out of my chair and I'm not so sure.

I step into the shower and scrub the stench of roses and the filth brought on by weeks of sitting off my body and out of my hair. When I step onto the mat, my skin is pink and slightly tender. I try to attack my hair with a brush, but I can't pull it through the tangles.

I am dressed in my favourite pants and shirt and feeding my old clothes to the fire when Sae lets herself in. She watches me. "The boy is back," she says.

I squat by the fire and watch the clothes burst into flame.

Sae suggests I pare my nails off with a knife. I nod and get one from a drawer. I sit by the fire and start to trim them. She comes closer and looks at my hair. I hear a 'tsk' of reproach about its state, but she doesn't express whatever she was thinking.

"I tried to brush it, but it was impossible. I think I'll have to shave it off." The idea stings more than I'd like to admit. My hair is my only concession to being female, my one vanity.

Sae seems to understand. "I don't think you'll need to do that. It's still singed on the ends and uneven in places. I'll cut it if you want," she offers. "It won't take long. I used to cut my daughters' hair all the time. It'll be healthier and grow faster if you do."

My mother used to trim my hair with the scissors from her sewing basket. I tell Sae where to find them and she sets to work, saying very little.

I feel the hair fall away from me to the floor. Sae nods with satisfaction when she is done and then sweeps it all into the garbage. I go into the bathroom and look at myself. The Mockingjay braid is gone. I am left with a short bob, but it is clean and healthier than it has since my prep team cared for it in the Capitol. My head feels like it is floating above my shoulders. I look different. I feel new.

When I come back to the kitchen, Sae is sliding two eggs from a pan onto a plate. She places it in front of me. She waits to see what I will do next. When I pick up my fork, she nods with satisfaction and turns to wash the dishes. "I think I'll go hunting today," I say.

I see her hands go still in the water, but she doesn't turn around. "I could use some fresh meat for supper."

"Invite Peeta and Haymitch too. It's probably been a while since they had fresh game."

I grab my father's hunting jacket. I find his bow and my old game bag in a closet by the kitchen door and head out to my woods.

Note: Last edit: Feb 10/15