Finding a Purpose.

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*Katniss's POV*

I woke up 3 times last night. Each time reliving that same, dreadful, reality. I don't think Peeta got much sleep either, he was dealing with me all night. I feel terrible about that, but I can't help it.

I'm so tired, but I won't try to sleep. I know it will just invoke even more nightmares, and I'm not sure how much more I can take. These dreams are taking everything out of me, and it's causing me to shut down.

I roll over as I hear Willow and Peeta talking downstairs. I wish I had enough energy to get out of bed early in the morning, and enough energy to engage in the kids lives. But lately I've been struggling to even get up in the morning.

I sigh and get up, there's no point in laying down. I'm so distraught by yesterday, everything happened so fast. Him, just coming onto me like that. Every time I remember it my skin crawls. I quietly walk downstairs and into the kitchen to find Peeta and Willow making something.

"Morning." Willow smiles to me.

I give a half smile and walk to the cupboard for a glass. I begin to reach one but Peeta gently places his hand on my arm, lowering it. He then grabs a glass and puts it in my hand, and I look up at him. He shrugs before moving back towards Willow. I quietly fill the glass with water and i sit down at the table, trying to avoid being in the way. I watch the fountain outside, and a small bird lands on it,

I wish I was that bird so I could fly away.

_

*Willow's POV*

I look over and see Mama staring out the window. I know she is sad, I can tell. But I don't know why. Maybe one of my muffins will cheer her up, probably not though. I remember when I drew that painting for her and she hung it up. I hop down from my chair and run into the living room to find my painting still hanging in the spot it once was. Although, there are more paintings surrounding it now.

I run back into the kitchen smiling and Dad gives me a look. I ignore him and try to come up with an idea of what to paint for Mama. I don't really want to paint anything in the house, it's all too gloomy. The meadow would be wonderful, but that would be tedious to paint. I turn my head and spot the fountain. Perfect. Dad's art room windows look out at the fountain too, so I'll have a clear reference.

"May I be excused?" I ask impatiently, the muffins are going into the oven anyways.
"Sure. Just be quiet." He says.

I run on my tiptoes into his art room and shut the door as quietly as I can. I skip over to the drawer were he keeps his paints and pallets. I grab a small white pallet and a few colors. I can't forget a canvas as well. I put the canvas on the easel and drag it over towards the window. I pull open the curtains and get a good angle of the fountain. I start by painting a blue background for the sky. I paint a few clouds and move down to the fountain.

Sometimes I wonder why this comes naturally to me, all the hues and shadows. I chose a light grey for the base of the fountain and use darker and lighter shades for the shadows casted upon it. I really hope she likes this—I just want her to be happy. I hear the front door open but I assume it's Dad. I shrug it off and continue working on my painting, creating even strokes on the canvas.

I hear a knock on the door, remembering Dad said to be quiet, and quietly call for them to come in. Flynn comes walking in and I smile.

"Hey, Flynn." I say. "What are you doing here?"
"My mom's been tying knots all morning so I came here instead." He rolls his eyes. "What are you painting?"
"I'm painting the fountain," I point to the window. "For my Mom." He moves his head to look out the window and he looks back and forth from the fountain to my painting.

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