Familiar hands wrapped around my shoulders and the thumbs traced soothing circles on the back of my neck. My head tilted to the side, enjoying the comforting gesture.
His lips brushed against my ear as he said, “I have a surprise for you.”
“And what would that be?”
“You’ll have to follow me to find out.”
I laughed in response, “You couldn’t wait until I was done with these dishes, Peeta?”
But his loving hands were gone before I could complete my sentence. With a sigh, I wiped my soapy hands on my pants and turned to go find him.
Months after my arrow had taken the life of Coin at my hands, Peeta and I moved into a home in Victor’s Village in what was formerly known as District Twelve. Following that, we joined a relief program to help rebuild what was damaged in the destruction of our home. In the beginning, I was wary that no change would occur and all would return to the state of a flawed utopian society we once endured. So far that has not been the case.
Upon turning around, I discovered a thin trail of white petals marked with red ovals near where they would connect to the stem. An inaudible chuckle escaped my lips. Katniss petals, of course. Peeta was always one for the romantic clichés. Following the trail from the kitchen, they lead me down the hall and took an unexpected turn which took me to the front room.
There he stood beside a canvas covered in a sheet, applying more pressure to his right leg in an attempt to give his artificial one a break. Lighting as I entered the room, his eyes immediately ignited from whatever beauty he saw in me. Casually leaning against the door frame, I suppressed a grin.
“So what’s the surprise?” I questioned, my eyes perusing his hidden masterpiece. This was not the first piece he showed me, but it was the first one done in this manner. My curiosity began to overwhelm me, yet I refused to show it. His smile engulfed his face in a way that only highlighted his handsomeness as he slowly removed the sheet.
Suddenly, my breath caught in my throat.
It was beautiful, as all of his paintings were, but not because of the colors chosen or the brush strokes delicately selected to be laid on the canvas, no, it was the subject which stunned me.
Instinctively, he rushed to my side as I reached for his steadying hand. In the center of the canvas, there was a girl with innocent features and blonde hair braided back into two pigtails. She loosely clutched a handful of similar looking flowers for which she was named.
“She’s painted so perfectly,” I cried wrapping my arms around Peeta’s chest. “Thank you, it’s wonderful.”
He planted a kiss on the crown of my head and whispered, “but that’s not all.”
As I pulled back in confusion, a third voice met my ears.
“Katniss?”
Frozen in place, was I like the voice was a chilling gust of wind from my past that caused my body to turn to ice. It was the same voice which begged me for lullabies back in our hut long ago. It was the same voice which offered advice beyond her years back in Thirteen. It was the very voice I thought I would never hear again.
“Prim?”
A young girl much like the on the canvas stepped out from behind the painting. Her blue eyes reflected all the pain I had harvested since they day I could not save her. I sank to my knees and my entire body shook uncontrollably. She took a hesitant step toward me and said my name a second time, but I heard a combination of her voice and Peeta’s, like a bad voice over, coming from her mouth.
My surroundings began to mist over and I became overly aware of the mattress beneath me.
Her mouth moved again, but I only heard Peeta’s voice magnified as it cut through my unconscious. Desperately, I lunged for my sister but before we touched I snapped out of the dream.