The Victor

I have lost. I have won.

The Hunger Games, I have won. I am the lone survivor, I'm sure of that as I stand over his body. Peeta's; the boy who came with me. I had killed him.

At his request, I had sent the arrow sailing into his heart, the one place he had used to keep us alive thus far. He had played off of the sponsors to gain food and other supplies. He had done it to keep us here—alive. It is because of him that I can stand here, tears running down my face, bow in my hand. He is the reason that I can breathe in the blood- tainted air that filled my lungs with every sob.

Peeta had cared for me. Not just for survival's sake, no, I had known from the moment he gave me bread that he cared. But, what did I do? I used it to my advantage and ended up killing him.

How could I call myself human? This is a game of survival, yes, but to kill a person who is your friend? Your neighbor? The one you're supposed to love? I had lost my humanity, like so many others have in this arena. I wasn't a human—I was a monster.

A monster who wishes she could take the arrow that had traveled into his heart and heal him. Restore him to perfect health; pretend nothing had happened. That these horrid games were just a myth, a story told to scared children.

I am positive that the guilt will eat me whole. Every time I look at his family, his father, how will I not be able to remember the boy with the bread? Every time I hunt, I will find myself holding the bow with hesitation, remembering Peeta and how I had killed a human with the weapons I had used for my family's survival.

I can't reverse what I have done. That power doesn't even belong to those beasts at the Capitol. But what I do is something that I know is true. That I'm positive of. I take off my pin, the Mockingjay that I have worn since I left my home. No, that isn't my home; that's Katniss's home. I'm just a monster.

On his chest is where I clip the pin, because I wasn't the Mockingjay. He was. Peeta is the victor. He would have never taken the opportunity to kill me. But I did, I saw the window open and took it without hesitation.

Off in the distance, a cannon goes off and fireworks explode. I don't want to hear them. I don't want to hear anything anymore. But still, I hear the hovercopter fly over us and land to take us into the vehicle. I give up, I let the lift me and the boy whom loved me and would have done anything for me. I sit in a seat as a few attend to my ear.

I am the victor of the seventy-fourth Hunger Games. I have survived, and I can now see my family.

I have killed Peeta Mellmark. And for that, I am the loser.