Ok guys, I have a 4 day weekend, so I figured I'd write a little more. Here's an epilogue for this story. I want to thank each and every one of you for your support! It's been fantastic! I have another story in the makes, and if you want an alert when I post it, you have to follow me! Also, If you loved this, tell your friends, tell your family, tell your pen pals from Uzbekistan! Share it with them! I'd love to hear even more feedback! It really helps while writing. Anyway, thank you so much again! I hope you enjoy this short epilougue! DISCLAIMER: I Don't own The Hunger Games
I still have nightmares. Almost every night. I see the faces of the tributes I so brutally murdered. I hear the cries and screams of agony. The pleas for mercy. I see myself murder, over, and over, and over again. I wake up the same every morning. Soaked in sweat, crying. Cato is there to comfort me sometimes, but the mornings when I wake alone are the hardest.
I dread the thought of having to go back to the capitol to mentor soon. I don't want to watch the games ever again. I don't want to see the arrogant, confident teenagers from the career districts. They think they're invincible. I know we are not.
I always pictured a life full of luxury and fame after winning. But instead, I got this. The constant nagging in my soul. "You're a murderer. You despicable human being. You should have died with them." The voices chant constantly in my head, all day and night. I'm starting to believe them. I should have died, I am a wretched murderer and a despicable human being. I serve no purpose. Why even bother anymore?
Cato notices my attitude. He gets worried about me a lot. He took the whole experience hard as well, but he says he has me to care about now. He tells me I need to get help, and that I need medication to help with the "voices". I say I'll go, but I don't. I sit at home all the time. The only light I see is the fluorescent glow of the lights in my house.
Cato visits a lot. He asks me how I'm doing every day. He holds me and whispers "I love you" into my ear, when I wake up screaming. After a while, he takes me to see a doctor. The doctor says I have post-traumatic stress disorder. He gives me a small dose of medication that I am supposed to take every day. I do as he says and after a few weeks, the voices go away.
The nightmares stay with me though. The doctor says those are permanently etched into my brain and will never be forgotten. The only way to lessen the emotional pain is to replace the thoughts with something happy. I do have something that makes me very happy. Something, the only thing that keeps me living. Cato.
I love him. He loves me. He comforts me, protects me, and cares for me. He's all I have to hold onto. He's the source of happiness in my life. He's my lifeline, and I'm never letting go. Ever. Besides, there are much worse games to play.