Living Lies ✜ Hunger Games x Reader

Heartbeat

It's just an explosion, yet it's so much more to you.

You remember the day vividly, when the mine explosion happened—the day that Mr. Hawthorne and Mr. Everdeen had died doing their day to day dangerous jobs. It was the day that had shattered Katniss and Gale's world before they even had met each other. Your father may have been spared that day, but the after effects were fast coming and had been with him ever since. It was a painful way to watch someone you love suffer—sometimes you would wonder if it was worse to see your father die slowly than to see the after effects of Mr. Everdeen's sudden death. You would wonder if it was fair that you had to see him alive yet still never really know him as a father. Then you'd stop yourself and remind yourself you weren't alone.

You snap out of your flashback with a violent thud as you land on the ground farther back in the woods, partially hidden by a bush. You lift your head, feeling a small trickle of blood run down your face. You quickly wipe it off and glance around, spotting several knives that must have been on the pile and got blown off with the detonation.

The first is a long throwing knife, which you assume must belong to Clove, and you know it would be extremely useful, as would the slightly smaller, less shiny and more weathered looking knife, which is probably used more.

Using every ounce of strength you can summon, you drag yourself towards where the knives are, ignoring burning muscles and ringing ears. The plan worked—the pile exploded.

The Careers will be back soon.

You stretch a hand out, desperately grasping the blade of one of the knives and pulling it forwards. One of the other blades slips from its tie, nudged closer ever so slightly.

The blade is smooth in your hand but your vision is swimming faster than you can adjust to. As the world turns, the Careers enter once again, wild, raving and raging.

As the world begins to center again, you push yourself backwards into the shelter of the forest, standing on unsteady feet. You're sure you'd be a sight to see—that is, if anyone could see you. A quick glance behind your shoulder tells you what the Careers do to recruits who fail. A shudder passes through your body, a jarring difference compared to the stillness of the broken necked guard.

Blood races down your face, dripping onto the otherwise clean blade of the knife. Your sleeve does nothing—leaves a smear and stains the dark of your jacket. A humming rattles the ever growing daze of your brain. As your vision fogs, fades to black, the only thing you see is green.

They say that one of the first things that pops into your head in time of crisis, is one of the most important people or things in your life.

Katniss would simply love this shade of emerald.

***

"(Y/n)!"

You jolt awake, checking your surroundings. At first, nothing registers, than it clicks. The chaos. Now the quiet.

Except it isn't quiet. The air is split with a shriek and the sword pierce of a mockingjay's song erupts in your one good ear.

"(Y/n)!"

Four notes.

You push yourself up, back pressed taut against the tree, throwing knife still in hand, bow and arrows abandoned on the ground beside you. Nothing seems right—especially not the voice. You rack your brain, trying to remember what the four notes carried by the mockingjays means.

You glance to the mockingjay pin on your jacket. The pin? District token? Gift? Think (Y/n). Prim?

You cover your eyes, spreading your finger a crack as the tiny voice inside your mind sounds out the name in whispers.