This chapter is an entry for the Round 3 of Fanfic Bootcamp.

Song : Talking to the Moon by Bruno Mars.

I know you're somewhere out there. Somewhere far away.

I want you back.

But I realized, the closer we are, the more pain we'll suffer.

I killed your sister indirectly, when I should've protected her at all costs.

My bloodthirsty behavior was what got her killed.

Grief overwhelmed you. Your hatred towards me grew over time.

Our relationship has broken into pieces, regardless of my desire to fix it.

After minutes of blurriness, a tear trickled down my cheek, soon followed by more. My breaths came out uneven, uncontrolled. My body trembled at its utmost, triggered by my massively complicated feelings.

They formed a giant, monstrous wave against my chest.

It costs every ounce of my energy to prevent myself from screaming my heart out.

I clenched my fists and punched the dusty window repeatedly, piping my emotions out.

This is all because of that damned Capitol in the first place!

My tortured scream ricocheted off the glassy furnitures of the dim room. I felt like my heart's being shredded into tiny splinters.

This is what they've done, Katniss. To both of us, survivors of war, mentally and physically.

You should've killed me when you had the chance to. I don't deserve to live after my reckless inventions..

"Well, look who's here." A sly woman's voice chimed in, out of the blue.

I turned my back abruptly, facing the opened door. A woman stepped out from the dark corridor. The dim moonlight illuminated her tall figure.

I felt like I've seen her somewhere before.

As I hastily wiped my tears off, an exaggerated sigh fanned my side. I jerked up in shock, eyeing the eavesdropper who could approach me that silently.

Turns out she's treading bare-footed on this cold, unswept floor.

"Hawthorne. Should I pity you?"

I bashed a fist her way, which she caught effortlessly with her own. Growling, I aimed my other fist to her face, only to hit thin air.

Rage possessed me right away. I kicked, punched, and clawed. I reached for her short, disheveled hair and pulled its strands off, right before she slapped my cheek, hard.

Her malicious smirk and skillful dodges are intolerably irksome.

The way she acted reminded me of someone, back in Capitol's containment and District 13...

Johanna Mason? The bald, psychopathic girl, who was Katniss' roommate?

"Johanna?"

"Yeah."

"Get out!" I barked, glaring at her simpering face.

"Gale Hawthorne—the talk of the entire district." She drawled, hunching on an abandoned corner.

I halted my breaths abruptly.

Did I do something wrong? An inapplicable decision, maybe?

"What for?"

"Your unquestionable depression, your unreasonable longing, your tearful break downs.."

I slammed a nearby glass table—which used to picture holograms before The Nut's bombing. A spiderweb pattern resulted from the crack.

"It's none of their and your business. Get. Out." I've gotten agitated with her presence already.

"And since when did you get obsessed over dramatic details? Since Paylor assigned you as District 2's commander?"

"President Paylor." I spat, correcting her disrespectful remark. "And I'm not.."

"Fine." She flaunts her wicked grin. "It's a truth. Your image is drowning on people's eyes. Your obsession over your past is disgusting."

"You don't know about my past!" I cried, "Hell cares! All I want is.."

"Katniss?" She interrupted, slowly approaching me. "She decided to move on with life, and so should you."

I've never talked much with Johanna, so I don't know whether to trust her words or not.

"With Peeta?" I crunched my fists tensely altogether.

"Clever." Was all she responded with, and a detained teardrop managed to escape. All my hopes crumbled into ashes.

Another gash formed above an unhealed one in my heart.

I shouldn't have entered her life after her encounter with the baker's blonde son..

Why can't I even get what I've wished for besides this job and the old Capitol's downfall?

"She called me. She's good. I told her Capitol needs more reinforcements in District 2, so I moved from District 7. She rambled on how much she missed you."

All my emotions mixed up. Longing, anger, frustration, grief.. And love. A partial, unrequited one.

"Where is she?" I squeaked tearfully.

"12. She'll hate to see you like this. And I hate to be commanded by an unworthy leader."

I threw an ashtray her way, which she dodged smoothly.

"Advice, Hawthorne, your life's too short to mourn over your failures. As your new underling, I.."

"Enough, Johanna."

"Fine, any messages?"

I hesitated. What should I say? How much I love her?

No, that'll upset her.

What about an indirect line?

"Use your memory well, Johanna." I smiled wistfully, "Every night I'm talking to the moon, still trying to get to you.."

With an unsympathetic roll of her eyes, she cleared herself out of my sight.