Hey guys, I just wrote this, (Another one of my late night slash early morning writes) and I really need some feedback. I am going to enter this in a contest and I need to know if it fits the prompt, if it's too far fetched, and if it's ok at all.

The prompt was 'A story about mistaken identity' with points for originality.

Also, Prim is only a year younger than Katniss in this.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything (not even the contents of my brain)

Thanks, and on with the story.


I don't belong here.

Of all the things I know, this is the only thing of which I'm certain.

They talk to me like they know me, like they have always known me, but I don't know them.

At least not this version of them.

Finnick looks at me with the eyes of a stranger, the eyes of someone who cares much more than he should.

I know he's not my Finnick; his face is the same but something is different.

The Finnick I know has two kids and a beautiful wife; he would never dare to glance my way. He is my best friend, as protective as a brother, I can't imagine our relationship being any more than that.

This Finnick, however, feels differently.

"Kat?" he says, his voice sounding so familiar yet terribly wrong.

"I don't know you." I whisper, eyebrows furrowed.

"Of course you do." he looks confused, his voice filled with longing. "Katniss, what's wrong?"

"I don't know you!" I yell, backing away.

He isn't my Finnick. My Finnick is back home... Wherever home is.

Faces that I know blur in my vision, and I repeat my mantra.

I don't belong here, I don't belong here, I don't belong here.

I'm being restrained, my trashing arms held behind my back. I pull in every direction but someone holds me close.

I just want to go home.

"Shhhh... Kat, it's ok." a voice whispers. Strong arms hold me in their embrace as someone presses a kiss into my dark hair.

My breathing is frantic, and I force myself to turn around.

The man holding me is someone I have never seen before. He has olive skin, grey green eyes and shiny dark hair.

He grasps my arms possessively, a worried expression on his face.

"Who are you?" I ask, trying to pull away from his embrace.

The man looks heartbroken. "It's me, Gale." he says sorrowfully.

I choke back tears, trying to get as far away as possible.

"I have never met you before in my life." I answer, voice shaking.

"Please Kat," he begs, his eyes dark. "I know you're confused, but don't you remember me?"

"I don't know who you think I am," I start. "But I am not your Katniss."

I turn away, ignoring their cries for me to wait. Nurses attempt to ask where I'm off to and I can only give them one answer.

I am going home.

I run along the streets, my hospital gown billowing in the wind. People give me awkward looks, staring at my distraught state.

I go as far as my legs will take me, but soon enough my feet are torn and bloody. I don't know where I'm supposed to go.

I feel like this is some sick joke, that someone has stuck me in a never-ending board game of Guess Who?

Bronze hair, green eyes, crooked smile?

Not Finnick.

Eventually, a kind looking woman in her fifties approaches me.

"Is there anything I can do for you dear?" she asks.

I don't know how to answer. She looks at me softly, a genuine smile on her face.

"Can you take me home?" I ask her, unsure of exactly where it is I need to go.

"I can." she answers, still smiling. "Do you live nearby?"

"I..." I don't know what to say.

"What's you address dear?"

"835 Garland Place." I blurt out. I have nowhere else to go after all.

"Alright," she answers. "That's not too far from here."

She drops me off at the front door of my apartment and I thank her, feeling slightly more at ease.

I walk up the steps, reaching for the key under the mat, and sure enough, I find it exactly where I left it.

This one fact almost makes me forget where I am.

I put the key down on the coffee table when I get inside, and I realize that it's facing the opposite direction of the one in my apartment.

So much for familiarity.

Suddenly, a pale girl with blonde hair and blue eyes enters the room.

"Prim?" I ask, looking at the woman that looks like my sister.

"Katniss!" she exclaims. "I was so worried about you. I got to town an hour ago and Gale told me that you left the hospital."

She runs up to me, pulling me into her arms. She begins sobbing, crying that she's so glad I'm ok, and I am unable to resist the urge to hug her back.

"I was so worried that you'd died, Gale told me that you went right through the windshield and that you were in a coma..."

I don't answer, not wanting to relive the events.

"Kat," she says seriously. "They didn't think you were gonna make it."

I'm not entirely sure that I made it out alive.

"I'm not your sister..." I tell her, almost regretting it.

"Of course you are." Prim looks confused.

"I know I look like her and sound like her, but I'm someone else."

"Katniss, you're scaring me." she says.

I take a look at the pictures around the from, finding one of a young girl with mousy brown hair.

"I don't know who this is." I tell her, pointing to the picture.

"That's Juliet," she replies, her voice breaking. "She's my daughter and you called for her birthday three days ago"

"No." I say. "You aren't married, you don't have a kid."

"Yes I do!" she yells, tears streaking her face. "You were coming to visit this weekend."

"I'm not who you think I am." I push past her sobbing form, making my way to the bathroom.

I face the mirror, taking in the sight of the cuts and bruises that surround my hairline. I hardly look like the girl I'm used to seeing.

Suddenly, I notice something peeking out from under my hair. I push my fringe out of the way, and find three black stars tattooed right below my right ear.

I gasp in surprise, covering the tattoo again.

Tears threaten to spill but I hold them back; I need to go home.

This is not my house, that is not my sister, I have never gotten a tattoo.

I don't belong here.

I'm stepping out of the bathroom, wiping my eyes, when I see him.

His blond hair is mussed, as usual, and his deep blue eyes stare at me in relief.

He looks just like I remember him.

Suddenly, I am unable to keep from crying, and wrapping my arms around him.

I missed him so much.

I reach up to touch his face, overjoyed at how warm he feels, how real.

"Peeta..." I whisper in disbelief.

He looks terrified at how I'm acting, but I couldn't care less.

I never thought I'd see him again, that I'd be able to hold him in my arms. My last memory of him is watching his coffin being lowered into the ground, my final goodbye.

"I missed you so much." I tell him, running my fingers through his hair.

"Katniss," he says coldly. "I need you to get off me."

He walks past me, and into the living room, grabbing Prim in his arms and placing a kiss on her lips.

In his eyes I can see all his love for her.

My heart breaks all over again.


"Miss Everdeen, I'm going to ask you again." the white haired man says. "What is your niece's name?"

"I don't-have..." I trail off, a flash of memories flushing through my head.

I watch Prim smile down at the bundle of cloth in her arms, a tiny fist waving around from the blankets.

"Her name is Juliet." she says.

It is a beautiful name.

"Juliet." I choke out, almost against my will.

"Good." the man smiles at me.

Soon, I forget why I'm here, why this man keeps asking me easy questions that I can obviously answer.

It is my life.

Name: Katniss Everdeen
Age: 25
Family: Prim, sister. Juliet, niece. No other living family.
Partner: Gale Hawthorne. Status, fiancé


Finnick Odair glances at the woman beside him, painfully aware that she is nothing like his best friend.

His Katniss is haunted by the death of her beautiful blond lover, cold and conservative.

This Katniss finds it all too easy to crack a smile, and let out a laugh.

She doesn't belong here.

Of all the things he knows, this is the only thing of which he is certain.

They say that our choices determine who we become.

Perhaps Katniss Everdeen had chosen not to go to the convenience store across the street and instead sent her blond haired lover to his death.

Perhaps Finnick Odair had taken the stairs instead of the elevator the day he broke his leg and ended up in the ER alongside the woman who soon became Mrs Finnick Odair.

Perhaps there is another place where each and every one of us makes a different choice and finds a different future.

Perhaps those of us who died here live on in a world not unlike our own.

Perhaps, somewhere out there, there is another universe.