The Epilogue - Katniss and Peeta

Never Enough.

*Peeta's POV*

"Dear, Peeta.

I am so sorry.

I am so sorry for everything I have caused you. I am so sorry for everything you have given up for me, and all of the pain you have gone through because of me. I know how horrible I am to you, and I know how horrible it is to be with me, and I'm sorry.

I wish I could fix myself into the person you deserve, but I can't. I will never be that person, and I know you wanted me to be the best version of myself, but it's getting too hard, and you don't deserve to take the fall for that.

I am so sorry for doing this, you don't deserve it at all. In fact, you didn't deserve any of the things I did to you. I caused you so much loss and pain over all of my stupid nightmares, and my stupid problems.

I'm hoping you can find peace now that I'm gone.

There is a bunch of letters in the wooden cabinet in your art room. I'm sorry I hid them from you when you came into the art room.

This is not your fault, Peeta.

I love you.

—Katniss."

My hand trembles holding the piece of paper, rereading the letter over and over again. My mind imagines her voice reading it, and I don't know if it's a coping mechanism or my mind trying to hurt me even worse. I haven't dared to pick up the other letters that have my name on it.

In fact, I haven't dared to do anything but cry.

I can't look around the house without crying, because I've spent my entire life painting her. I can't close my eyes, because my mind is burned with memories of her. I can't sleep, because my dreams are filled with the days in which I actually had her.

I just want her back.

I'm so incredibly stupid and naive for leaving her in that art room. If I would've noticed—everything would've been different. She would be here right now, and I'd be able to hold her through one of her nightmares. She would be alive, and I could make sure this wouldn't happen.

I remember what happened so vividly.

I remember finding her in the room, collapsed on the ground. Her face was so—pale. Rye was right behind me, and he saw it too. That's the second time he's seen her dead and I—I can't help him with that trauma.

I remember them doing everything they could to get your heart pumping again in that aircraft, but as soon as they reached the hospital, you flatlined again.

How could I let this happen?

They told me they did everything they could, they tried so hard—but you're too stubborn.

You came back the last time.

I should've known you wouldn't this time.

_

The phone rings in the hallway, and it takes everything in me to stand and walk towards it. I reluctantly pick it up, and I try my best to make my voice sound as if I haven't been crying for the past day.

"Hello?" A voice calls out, and I immediately recognize it.
"Hey." I say, closing my eyes to prevent any tears.
"Is it true?" Delly asks, and I have to pause before answering.
"Yeah—" I falter, and I cough to cover up the crack in my voice. "Yesterday."