Author's Note: Okay so I've decided to revamp "Waiting Game". I wasn't deep into the story yet so it won't be hard to restart it. I've been on hiatus for quite a while and it's time to get back to writing. So here's the first chapter of "Waiting Game". I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games nor the characters that take part in the series.

Chapter One

11 months.

Waiting is the hardest part. Waiting is always the hardest part.

I lie awake in my satin-sheeted bed with my head on my pillow. Stale tears stain the white cottoned pillow but it's not an unusual habit for me to cry myself to sleep. It's a release.

Golden rays of sun streak through the curtain near my head and strike the objects on my nightstand. A book, paintbrushes, a half glass of water, and a clear acrylic palette lie on the dark wood stand. Painting is a release, too.

I sit up in my bed and a yawn escapes my pale, pink lips. I run a hand through my thick blonde hair and lick my lips. The taste of dried blood pierces my tongue and haunting flashes of the previous night begin to envelop my mind.

He continues to thrust in and out of me, while I'm on my hands and knees. My hands clutch the silken sheets and I use all of my might not to give out. His rough hand grips my hair tighter, while his other one grips my left hip. I know I'll find a print there in the morning. I cannot see his face from this position but I can imagine his wicked grin burning itself into my heart. I bite down on my lip to keep from screaming out. Drips of blood begin to run down my lip but I keep biting down. His pace begins to quicken and as he cums inside of me, he bites down on my shoulder. His ragged breaths slow down and his ripped abs brand themselves to my smooth, sweaty back. He let's go of my hair and slowly pulls himself out of me. He gives a low chuckle and the bed creaks as he gets up. I sink into my bed and hear his footsteps walk across my bed. Before he leaves my room, he whispers "Good night, Peeta" I sink further into my bed and squeeze my eyes shut to stop the tears from coming but it's too late. Wet streams of warm tears flow down my face and I am too tired to wipe them away. I just shut my eyes tighter and hope to wake up in a different place.

I slowly wipe off the dried blood with my thumb. Even when I'm away from him, all I seem to do is think about him. Finnick Odair.

I scan the room for any signs of our "foreplay", but all of the broken glass and disheveled clothing are out of sight. I'm not shocked that my room is spotless because the Capitol hates messes, especially ones that take too long to clean up. An avox must've been in here during the night.

As I stretch my tightened limbs, I hear clacking of heels promptly making their way down the hall and I know exactly where those heels are heading. Straight towards me.

Effie Trinket bursts through my bedroom door and recites her daily mantra in her high-pitched voice, "Up, up, up! It's going to be a big, big, big day!"

Effie has always been quite eccentric ever since the day I first met her. I was 13 and she was haunting. Her face is always caked with makeup and she constantly wears a whitish grin. Her hair is not her hair, it's a wig. She sports various wigs and todays choice is a bright pink with an orange flower adorning it. Her tight dress is a pale green which reminds me of the springtime.

She begins to strut over to my bedside and I groan rather loudly. I sink back into my sheets and draw them over my head, hoping they will suffocate me and end my suffering. I plant my face into my pillow and let a muffled cry.

"No, no, no Peeta, we won't be having any of that today," Effie says as she trots over to me and yanks my cover back, exposing me to the cold draft of the morning. "It will be quite a day today, so we must get a good start."

I lift myself upwards and sit with my back on the headboard. The sheets slowly fall down and my bare chest is exposed. I smack my lips to make them less dry and grumble out, "Effie, you say that it will be a big day every day," I scratch my head —which is a complete blonde mess by the way— and raise my arms in a stretch.

Effie reaches towards the curtains and pulls them apart, completely exposing my room to the vicious rays of the sun. "And every day it is true."

I roll my eyes and swing my legs over the side of the king-sized bed. My feet dangle a little because the bed is lifted off of the ground which makes the mattress seem even thicker. My arms are straight down and I grip the bed as if I am about to lift off of it, but I don't. I sit there and wiggle my toes slightly around the cold air. My eyes focus on the ground and I zone out a little.

The room grows silent and I look up to see Effie holding one of my paintings.

"I see you've gone back to painting," She says, running her hands over the image. "What is it supposed to depict and why is it only red?" She asks while examining the painting.

"Its blood," She looks at me with a shocked expression and I continue, "Painted from my actual blood," Her mouth forms into a frown.

"Are you serious?"

"No, Effie," I chuckle. She never gets my jokes, even if they do have an underlying truth. "It isn't real blood."

"Don't joke like that Peeta, it makes me worrisome."

"Sorry, Fie, I didn't mean to freak you out." That's a lie.

Effie puts her hands on her hips, "Anywho, I was sent up here to fetch you for your breakfast with Mr. Odair. The cameras will be rolling so I expect you to be ready." She pauses and looks at my hair, "And, make sure you do something with that hair, my goodness, Peeta," She says as she begins to pat down my untamed hair. "Were you fighting a lion last night?" She sneers sarcastically.

If that lion had a malicious smile, sea green eyes, and a scent of an ocean breeze. Then, yes I did, I think before rolling my eyes and grumbling out, "Something like that."

Effie speaks before I can think another thought, "Now, I expect you to be in the styling studio in ten minutes. Your prep team will be up there waiting for you, so hurry and brush your teeth and what not, ok?" She says and turns on her heel, not even waiting for my reply.

And in the next moment she's gone. Heels echo down the hallway.

I grab a robe and sit myself down at the white vanity set on the right side of my room. I stare at myself in the mirror and begin to notice all of the inflictions of pain that that man has caused me. I reach up and ghost my index finger over the cut on my lip from biting on it so harshly. Faint bags hang under my crystal blue eyes. Ashy locks that usually fall in waves around my head, stick up in every which way. What have I become?

I get up and head towards the bathroom which is conveniently located in my room. A pristinely built shower stands proudly in the corner of the bathroom and it's calling my name. I take off my robe and press a button on the shower. A steady stream of warm water comes out from the showerhead and steam begins to rise. I step into the shower and let the water wash over me. I drink in the warmth of the shower and let the relaxing water travel over my body. I lather up my skin with soaps that have scents of lilacs and my hair is washed with shampoos that smell of strawberries. The strawberries remind me of those my father used to put on pastries back in District 12. Strawberries are rare in 12 but when my father could get them he would make the best custards in all of Panem. I close my eyes and let the reminiscent aromas fill my nose. It's been six years since I stepped foot in 12. Six years too long.

My skin feels brand new as I step out of the shower. A feeling that I welcome full heartedly. I walk to my drawer to pull out underwear. I slip them on and go back to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

As the bristles work their way on my molars, my eyes settle on my hips reflected in the giant mirror above the porcelain sink. Faint purple marks discolor my pale white skin. Somehow, he manages to leave imprints on my body as well as my heart.

Venia will certainly be livid about the marks on my hips, as well as, the red ones on my neck, collarbone, and shoulder.

I finish brushing my teeth and rinse my face off. I rub the marks on my collarbone and wince. I slip on a creamy robe, not even thinking about putting on clothes because I know they will be removed when I get to the studio.

I make my way out of my room, feet bare and cold on the furnished marble tiles of the floor. I turn left and head up the red velvet stairway. The stairway wraps up in a circular outline and it doesn't take long to reach the studio, which is just one floor above my bedroom. I reach the open corridor and turn right towards the hall leading to the stylist studio. The walls of the hall are lined with paintings of flowers, gardens, small children. The studio lies at the end of the hallway, an Avox, named Lavinia pulls open the door for my entrance. I quickly thank her and step into the studio.

I find Venia, Octavia, and Flavius standing in a small circle in the middle of my room. Oh good, the whole team is here. They talk amongst each other near a vanity set, other prep team members are scattered about the room. The room itself is a magnificent beige color. Its creaminess radiates with every ray of sun that shines in the room from two giant windows. A short hallway splits two sides of the room down the middle, three vanities on each side. Blow dryers, sinks, shampoos, colorful things in clear jars that I am not sure of all sit neatly on the vanities. There are six rooms, or "Prep stations" in the hallway, where the true magic happens. But before I can manage to fully submerge from the hallway Octavia spots me and lets out a squeak.

"Peeta!" her voice wails out and silences the entire room and all eyes turn towards me. Octavia rushes over to me and draws me into a vicious hug, "I can't believe you're getting married!" Her arms snake themselves around me and constrict me from moving my arms. The room fills up with murmurs and the people go back to what they were doing.

"Shhh, Octavia. No one is supposed to know about that until tonight." I say, harshly reprimanding her.

"I know, Peeta, but I'm just so excited." She says, bursting with joy.

The way Octavia speaks to me makes it seem as if we've known each other for an eternity. It's been two days since I met the plump makeup artist and she seems to have quite an attachment to me. Her lengthy auburn hair tickles my chest and her forehead nudges my collarbone. Right on my bruise.

I wince and Octavia immediately pulls back. Her thin, brown eyebrows knit into a confused expression.

"What's wrong, Peeta?" She asks. Flavius and Venia flock to me and examine me with the same worried expression.

"It's nothing," I say, trying to dismiss the whole thing. It doesn't work.

Venia eyes my chest and pushes some of the robe off of my shoulder with her long fingers. Her eyes go wide as she stares at the mark.

"Oh dear," She whispers and puts the robe back in its place as if not to anger the mark. Octavia lets out a small shriek and Flavius just stands there, his purple painted lips slightly ajar.

"Did Finnick—"

"Yes, I guess he got a little bit too excited on our first night." I chuckle and try as hard as I can to dismiss the bruises as mere love bites and rough play. Venia eyes me, as if she doesn't believe me, but if she doesn't, she never says anything. The air in the room becomes tense and some of the other prep team members are casting glances in our direction again. Flavius finally clears his throat, "Well, shall we get started?"

3 hours later, I'm not Peeta anymore.

A new creature stares at me in the mirror of a vanity set in one of the prep station and he is radiant. His hair falls in golden waves over his forehead. His cheeks are made of porcelain. His blemishes are nonexistent.

As I admire this new creature's beauty, somebody walks into the prep station.

"Well, aren't you stunning?" a soft voice comes from behind me.

I find a man with short cropped brown hair and light, caramel skin's reflection in the mirror and I watch as he steps further into the room. This must be Cinna, my wedding stylist.

Between the dozens of people I've met during the moving process in the last two days, this man was not one of them. His appearance comes as bit of a shock. Compared to the dyed green skin of Octavia or the aqua hair of Venia, this man is actually normal. He has metallic gold eyeliner that compliments his bright green eyes. His jet black buttoned-down shirt is slightly opened, adding even more effect to his attractiveness.

"Thank you," I say in a hushed voice. He walks over to a pair of blue couches in the back of the room. A small clear table in between them. He gestures to come sit across from him and I comply. I pull my thin robe tighter against me as I walk over to him. I sit and he presses a button on the side of the table. Two mugs of piping hot coffee appear in front of us.

"I'm Cinna," he stretches out his hand for me to shake, "And I'll be your stylist for the wedding."

I shake his hand and then awkwardly place it in my lap.

"I'm sorry I didn't order more," he gestures to the mugs, "I know you're planning to have brunch with Mr. Odair."

I can barely manage not to roll my eyes.

I murmur, "Yes because my every move is planned out for the next 11 months."

"I'm sorry if I offended you," Cinna says apologetically.

aI realize how disdainful I sound and warm my tone, "Oh no, I'm sorry, it's just early in the morning is all." I avoid his eyes and focus on a particular painting on the wall of a brown horse drinking water from a lake.

An awkward tenseness sets into the air and I pick up the mug and take a sip. Cinna's eyes stay trained on mine while I taste the bitterness of the coffee. It could use a bit of sugar.

"Well, my sister Portia and I were thinking over your wedding suit," he begins.

I nod my head, telling him to continue.

"But, that's months away,"

"Right."

"But your first big event will be the engagement party."

"Oh, yeah, the engagement party" I repeat slowly, allowing the thought of strange people and fake smiles entering my mind. I guess since his father is the President of Panem, it has to be one of the biggest parties of the year, besides the actual wedding.

"What did you have in mind?" I ask curiously. Even though this is my first time meeting him, something tells me Cinna has a creative mind.

"Something subtle," Cinna says. Something subtle? Is that even possible in the Captiol?

"But also something to catch the eyes of the crowd at the event." I nod my head again and take another sip of the coffee.

Cinna leans forward and props his elbows on his knees, his chin resting on his linked hands.

"How do you feel about fire?"

"So Peeta," Finnick takes a sip of his orange juice, "how was your morning?"

I sit in front of him at a small table on the back patio of the mansion. The table is a fine glass with a giant umbrella extending from the middle, protecting us from the rays of an angry sun in midday. The giant maze garden —almost 6 feet high— looks breathtaking even in the autumn season of October. Campanulas, Boltonias, Aster Honeysongs, line the hedges of the garden. But what's especially interesting, are the white roses in the far back of the garden. President Snow has a greenhouse, but that's attached to the mansion. If you go past the maze garden, you'll find a tennis court. I'd never even heard of the game until I came to the Capitol. Apparently, it was popular in another time. Near the tennis court, there is a pool lined with concrete and colored tiles. The tiles are pastels of pink, yellow, green and blue. The blues remind me of the color of Finnick's…

"Oh," I suddenly remember Finnick asked me a question, "It was delightful," I say in my most charming voice. I feel the cameras on my face and I decided to add more, "But it's even more delightful now that I'm with you."

His lips curve into a triumphant smile and I know the citizens of the Capitol will eat this up when they see it tomorrow and officially learn of our impending marriage. "Finnick and Peeta's Journey to the Alter", a special documentary documenting every moment leading up to the rest of our joyous life together. Nausea is a familiar feeling when I think of my future with Finnick. Every time a president or a president's child gets married, there's a big broadcast that details every moment leading up to the "I do's". I watched Annie Cresta, Finnick's younger sister, get married a short while after I moved to the Capitol. She looked joyful in every moment and I truly believed she couldn't wait to get married to her deceased husband, Rowan Cresta.

The Capitol goes crazy for this kind of entertainment and so, we'll have to repeat the proposal that took place a few nights ago. It wasn't recorded but this time it will be. For all audiences across Panem.

He cuts a piece of his pancake and dips a piece in a small cup of syrup. He sticks his fork out towards me, an offering. I lift up off of my seat and he slides the fork into my mouth. I chew it while putting on a grin. He takes my hand in his and kisses it, the same hand he used to grip every fiber growing out of my scalp. I swallow and then smile. My eyes catch something white in one of the windows on the top floor past Finnick's head, in the West wing. It's one of the roses from the garden and it's attached to President Coriolanus Snow. He smiles in a way a snake would right before it catches it's pray. I blink and he's disappeared. Maybe, he wasn't there at all. I can't be sure but Finnick doesn't give me time to wonder as he turns my face back to him and captures my lips with his.

Finnick clutches my face with one of his greedy hands. His knee is in between my legs and his arm is extended with his hand touching the wall next to my head. I'm trapped.

"Peeta, don't resist your lover," He says behind gritted teeth.

"To be a lover you actually have to love, you heartless bastard," I spit out venomously.

"You're right," Finnick gives a laugh and then roughly yanks my hair back. I wince which causes him to laugh wickedly again.

"I meant to say," He yanks my hair back even more and I cry out. "Don't resist your master," He grabs me by the arm and pulls me into his bedroom. I'm roughly thrown onto his king-sized bed and he slowly crawls on top of me.

He starts to bite on my neck and I so badly want to scream out, but President Snow's warning rushes back into my mind.

"Peeta Mellark, it's always pleasant to see you," President Snow says behind one of his snake like smiles. His puffy lips makes it hard to look at for too long. And his scent makes things completely unbearable. Roses and…blood? I sit in his study which includes hundreds of books that I've never read or heard of. I don't know why I've been called to his mansion, but I can only hope I didn't do something wrong.

"Thank you sir, it's always pleasant to see you, too," I lie and display a gracious smile. He folds his hands together on his sleek, brown desk. A single white rose rests in a clear vase.

"Well, you must be curious as to why I've called you here," He says and I nod my head.

He continues, "You've met my son, Finnick, yes?" He studies me with an unreadable expression. I can't tell if he wants eat me or hang me up as a prize.

I hesitantly reply, "I've met him once, I think."

"Well, he seems to have an infatuation with the young baker's son." His mouth forms into a malicious grin and I realize that he is talking about me.

"An infatuation?" I ask. The only encounter I've had with Finnick was at one of Snow's extravaganzas. It was about a year or so ago and my dad was asked to bake pastries for the party. Finnick and I reached for the same strawberry Danish. I pulled back my hand and he grabbed it. We locked eyes for a moment. Something in those green eyes seduced me and haunted me at the same time. He gave the Danish to me and walked away. But before he turned away a smirk appeared on his face.

President Snow's voices draws me out of my reverie, "Yes, he's actually quite taken with you."

"Quite taken with me?" I ask. President Snow nods his head. This isn't making any sense at all.

"I don't understand. I've only met him once."

"Call it," He picks his hands up off of the desk and twirls the rose around in the face with a finger, "Love at first sight."

I'm still not following what he is saying, "Ok…so what do you want me to do about that?"

"I want you to marry him." His voice is clear cut like the edge of steel.

What? My mouth hangs unhinged to my jaw, "Marry him?"

"You see, the Capitol is growing restless. They need," he pauses, "A source of entertainment."

I can feel a small wave of anger rise up inside of me. "And getting married against my will is going to be their entertainment?"

"These citizens of the Capitol always get exuberant over romances like these."

"Romances like what?" The wave becomes stronger, a tsunami, "I hardly know him, I hardly know anyone in this place!"

"But you know your family, don't you?" He asks. A simple question that I know will not lead to anything good.

"Yes obviously but—"

"What if you didn't know them anymore?" There is nothing but a cold seriousness behind his dark eyes. I swallow a lump in my throat.

"Wha-what do you mean?" I stutter out.

"Well say there is an accident…"

Finnick thrusts into me and I'm brought out of my reverie. I find my shirt ripped open and my pants are off.

"Don't worry, it won't be long," He says, but I know he's lying. Finnick could do this to me for hours.

When he's finally done, I lay there out of breath, feeling used.

"Clean yourself up," He murmurs and then he's gone. I can't bear to lay in his bed any longer. I get up slowly, knowing that if I move too fast a sharp pain will shoot up my backside. I learned that the hard way last night.

I limp back to my room hoping not to be seen by an avox. I manage to get to my room unseen and I barely make it to the toilet before I start vomiting.

"Are you ok, Peeta? I heard you had an upset stomach earlier," Effie asks in such a concerned tone that for a second, she sounds more like a mother than my actual mother. Her sparkling midnight blue dress manages to stand out even when it is almost midnight. The stars twinkle in the sky, matching the sequins on her dress. Her wig is ever so big and heels ever so high.

I sit up in my chair a bit more to seem a little more stable than I truly am. "I'm fine, thanks Effie," I say as Octavia puts the finishing touches on my makeup. My breath comes out in a small puffy cloud due to the dropping temperature.

"Ok well just remember to—" Effie starts but a woman's voice cuts her off. A tall, young woman comes from behind a tall hedge and walks toward us.

"We're about to start rolling," the woman, Atala, says in a stern tone. Her chestnut brown hair is in a tight ponytail. Her forest green turtleneck clings to her lithe body, while her leather pants outline her long legs. Her caramel brown fingers are painted black.

Atala will be directing the special and capturing the mesmerizing moments Finnick and I will share on our journey to the alter.

"He looks fine, so Peeta follow me," Atala commands and abruptly spins around. Her combat boots beating the ground with every step.

"Dazzle them," Effie whispers in my ear before I begin to walk after Atala.

I can't stop my hand from twitching as I follow Atala to a giant gazebo near the garden. The night is growing deeper as well as my anxiety. Every step is a shaky one and I can't help but want to run away but before I can we reach the gazebo.

The white columns are polished nicely and a small chandelier hangs from the top. Everything is pristine and clean, just like the Capitol. Small ferns and plants align the round gazebo. A round table is set up in the center with a white cloth covering it. Two platinum plates lie on the table with grilled chicken, green beans, rolls shaped like stars sitting on them. Two wine glasses are filled with a velvet red wine. A dinner for lovers.

Atala goes over the details for the scene as I look around. Remember to smile, act gleefully surprised when he pops the question, and the most important tip of all: say yes.

She backs away behind a trio of cameramen and I take a seat at the table. I clench my hand into a fist to try and calm my nerves.

Finnick appears out of the darkness and begins to walk up the stairs of the gazebo. Atala motions me to get up and hug him. I rise quickly and walk over to greet him in a hug. My nerves get the best of me and I almost trip over my own feet. Finnick catches me before I do and steadies me, drawing me into a hug.

He pulls away, "You alright?" He asks in such a concerned way that I almost believe that he cares about me. His breath lingers in the cold air and I feel my cheeks heat up with redness. I just nod my head, feeling like a fool but he flashes me a smile. He gestures for me to sit down before I manage to trip again. I swallow my embarrassment and disgust down and take my seat in front of him. A single candle flames in between us and illuminates the dark night.

"I feel like I haven't seen you in forever, babe," Finnick says before sticking his fork into the chicken.

It's funny that the only time that Finnick actually acts like a human being is when he knows everyone is watching.

I chuckle, "Finnick, we just saw each other earlier today,"

"I know but I want to spend every second with you," His emerald eyes lock onto mine and I stop cutting my chicken. A second passes, my heart skips a beat.

I nervously laugh again, "That's impossible, silly,"

"Maybe not,"

And then comes the part that no one suspected. Finnick gets up from his chair and down on one knee. He pulls out an onyx box out of his coat pocket and opens it. A diamond ring sits pretty inside and I swallow hard.

"Peeta Mellark, will you marry me?" He asks in his sweetest voice. I look into his eyes and behind them I know there is a coldness. A darkness that will absorb me for the rest of my life.

I smile.

Please review it if you liked it or even if you didn't. Feedback is always great and I like reading my reviewers stories, so pleases review. Thankss, bankss.