I just sat there. There was a sharp chill in the air that turned my bare skin to goose flesh and the mowed grass scratched against my legs, but I didn't care. I didn't move.

I couldn't go back, not yet anyway.

Funny thing. I'd faced more terrifying ordeals than I could count, yet nothing felt more scary to me right now than facing my own wedding reception.

It had taken a while for me to agree. A while for me to realize that I would never become any less broken, any less numb than I already was. Prim was gone, she was never coming back. Two years had passed, but the very thought of her still caused me to double over with grief. At first, it was overpowering. Then came the guilt, which was even worse. For a long time, all I did was sit in that old rocking chair by the fire, hating myself for everything I had done, all the pain I had caused.

There was nobody there to speak to, to console me at night when I screamed until I passed out. Haymitch had been right across the road, of course, though he didn't come and see me once. Later, I'd confronted him about it.

"My door wasn't locked either, Sweetheart." he said simply.

And he was right, I guess. He wasn't there to be my babysitter, to tell me everything was going to be fine. If I'd really needed him, I could have visited him. That was how things worked with us. We didn't lie, didn't pretend.

Things became fractionally better when Peeta returned. It made me feel better to have somebody to hold onto when my body was wracked with sobs. Somebody to tell me that it wasn't my fault, even though I knew full well it was.

He loved me, and even though I was too numb to feel anything, I eventually realized that I would never get better. So why not just go ahead and make at least him happy with the one thing he wanted?

My hand in marriage.

Yeugh. I'd let everybody else organize it. I was afraid that something would set me off and I'd back out. I wouldn't do that to Peeta, the only person who loved me.

And so that's how I found myself, dressed up in a frilly white dress that was truly not me. It was sent over from the Capitol, regards and best wishes from President Paylor. I ran my fingers over the cool pearls sown onto the neckline now, thinking of how I preferred Cinna's beautiful creations so much more. Just the thought of him makes my eyes well up with tears.

I went through with the wedding feeling like a ticking bomb, expecting to freak out at any moment. But I didn't.

When the time came, I said "I do." without any hesitation. Then there was kissing and clapping and flowers and champagne and I couldn't breathe. I excused myself and ran out of Peeta's -our- house and across the Victor's Village, into the back garden of the home that used to belong to me, my mother, to Prim.

That's where I sat now, telling myself to breathe, to calm down. Was I truly married now? How was I supposed to deal with this? Would Peeta want children right away? The very thought brought on another round of hyperventelating. How could I be expected to love and care for a baby when I wasn't even sure I was capable of feeling such emotions any more?

The tears spilled down my cheeks and I didn't wipe them away. I didn't have to worry about being weak, there was nobody here to be strong for.

Just then, I heard the soft thud of footsteps, the creak of the wooden gate.

"Katniss?"