Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games...unfortunately.

A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry I haven't updated anything in forever. But I have a new hilarious story for you to read now ;) My twin sister and I decided we'd write this story together, and we just pass it back and forth, continuing the story. It started out so nice and normal...and then it took a turn down a strange alley. Basically, we ended up making it our goal to make it as strange as possible.

My sister wrote in regular text, and I wrote in italics. Enjoy!


This house is too big. And too… Capitol.

It's making this whole "I've won the Hunger Games and now I'm rich and uppity and too important" thing even worse than it already was.

Although, a couple of months ago, I probably would have been rolling around on the floor for the chance to be this rich and secure. I would have literally killed someone in order to not have to bust my butt every day doing illegal things just to scrape by…

But that was a couple of months ago.

Now I've realized that the money comes with great sacrifice. Too much sacrifice, actually. Too many children died in order for me to live here.

I shudder as I walk down the stairs. At least I'll have Prim and mother here with me soon. The exact second the last of the Capitol presses leaks out of the district, they will be living here in the Victor's Village with me.

I shove my way into the kitchen, expecting to eat my breakfast alone, but I find that someone else has decided they're allowed in my house— Peeta.

He turns around when he hears the door open and flinches away from me before I can even do anything. He gently sets down the basket of bread that he was holding and looks at the floor.

"Thanks," I say.

He mumbles something, but his eyes immediately fill with tears, and he flees the house. It takes him a couple tries to get the sliding glass door open, which would be comical to watch if he weren't sobbing so pitifully, but eventually Peeta manages to get out of my house.

I let out a deep sigh. He hasn't taken my announcement that our relationship was a total ploy to stay alive well at all. I mean, sure, I feel bad for the poor guy, but I'm still confused as to how he didn't know I was acting.

I wander over to the basket of bread that Peeta left and lift the cloth napkin off the top. Neatly arranged inside, there are two loaves of bread, a stack of cookies, a plate of pastries... and some cheese buns.

How on earth did he know I like those?

For a second, I feel completely violated, considering this guy that I've only know for a month knows what my favorite type of bread is, but that feeling goes away pretty fast. I'm sure I probably mentioned it during training or something…

But that, in turn, makes me angry. Peeta is making it really hard for me to remain indifferent to him.

Angrily, I pluck a pastry out of the basket and take a bit. Curse him for making such delightful treats. If they weren't delicious, I would be totally against them. However, they are some of the most delicious things I have ever had the pleasure of eating, so there's one win in Peeta's category.

I am about to go hide in my room where no one can find me, but there's a knock on the door.

I nearly start crying or screaming in frustration. There are only a few different groups of people who show up to my house: Haymitch in a drunken haze, Peeta with more delectable bribes, or Capitol interviewers.

None of those options seems too great, but I know I have to answer the door or Haymitch will smash a window/ the Capitol people will just let themselves in. Since I like to be in control of things, I always open the door of my own accord. They don't get the satisfaction of coming in uninvited.

I march down the hallway, taking angry bites out of my pastry, and wrench the door open. "What do you want?" I ask without thinking or even looking up to see who it is.

When I do look up, I'm shocked. It's not Peeta with more food. It's not drunk Haymitch. And it's not Capitol retards.

It's Gale.

I drop my pastry onto the ground and stare at him in genuine shock for god knows how long. I'm not sure what expression I have on my face, but it must be priceless. It's just…I haven't seen him in so long. And I felt such an odd, lurching rush of emotion the second I saw his face that it's taken me a few seconds to try to process through it.

Gale looks at me strangely. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No," I say breathlessly. "No…of course not." And then suddenly, I've taken a step towards him, tripped over the threshold, and stumbled straight into his arms. Gale freezes, but I irrationally throw my arms around his neck. It takes him a few seconds before he allows his arms to settle around my waist.

"I missed you." The words tumble out of my mouth like water rushing over rocks in a stream. "I missed you, Gale."

"I missed you too, Catnip," he says after a moment of hesitation.

I let go of Gale and take a couple steps backwards into my house. "Do you want to come in?" I trip on the dropped the pastry, and it just makes it more painfully uncomfortable.

He steps into my house. The door shuts behind him with a soft click, and the silence settles around us like dust. He stands a few feet away from me, avoiding my eyes, and I can't stop looking at him.

"How are you?" I ask.

"Fine," he says. "How have you been?"

"Awful."

That makes him look at me for the first time since I threw the door open. And that makes me feel the need to explain. "It's terrible here. Prim and mom won't come here with me because these Capitol people won't stop coming here and interviewing me. The only people I have to talk to are Haymitch and Peeta, and Haymitch is always drunk, and the only thing Peeta does is bring baked goods soggy with his tears."

I realize that I'm starting to sound more hysterical as I keep talking, but that by no means makes me stop.

"And now Peeta won't stop crying every time he sees me because he didn't realize I was acting the entire time."

Gale freezes, and his eyes lock onto mine. There's some foreign emotion there- one I can't recognize. For some reason, that encourages me to say, "I don't love Peeta."

"You were acting," Gale says. I can't tell if he said it as a question or a statement.

I still feel the need to answer. "Yes. I was acting. I don't love Peeta." The sudden surge of emotion I feel directed towards Gale is what gives me the courage to add, "I never loved Peeta. It's always been you."

It isn't until then that I realize how close we're standing. How close his face is to mine.

"I think…I think I love you, Gale," I whisper.

And then I'm closing my eyes and closing the gap between us and-

There's a loud bang as Peeta throws the sliding glass door open again. "Katniss, I'm sorry…it's just-"

He freezes and stops short when he sees what he's walked into. The flash of emotion across his face is almost comical. Tears immediately begin pooling in the corners of his eyes. In the moment when I should have been apologizing or explaining, he lets out a heart-wrenching whimper and whirls around, smacking face-first into the sliding glass door. Again, he struggles with the door a couple times, tears streaming down his face. Then, he abandons the sliding door entirely, fleeing across the room, sobbing pathetically, and throws himself out the front door that I let Gale in.

And Peeta fills the residual silence with one last plaintive wail before tripping off my porch with a thump.

"Dang it, Peeta!" I bark loudly, but I sort of trail off at the end since I'm more embarrassed than angry at this point.

For a second, no one makes to move at all. Gale stays leaning on his palms against the wall, towering above me and effectively trapping me between his arms, with his eyes closed in a grimace. I don't feel too inclined to move away from Gale because, for some reason, his closeness is really welcome. And outside the door, Peeta's still lying motionless face down on the ground. I can hear him sobbing all the way in here.

I'm standing there, and I honestly consider just shutting the front door completely and going back to what Gale and I were about to do, but then it dawns on me just how awkward that would be. So, cringing slightly, I give in to my pity of Peeta and duck under Gale's arm.

I mutter, "Sorry," and jog to the door.

I step out on the porch and look down at Peeta, and he seriously doesn't appear to be moving. He's not even crying anymore. For a fraction of a second, I honestly believe that he's hurt himself.

"Peeta—?" I ask.

But as soon as it comes out of my mouth, he struggles to his feet, making dying animal noises, and starts running towards his house with his arms flailing above his head.

"Peeta, seriously!" I shout after him. I'm not even sure why I do it. Maybe I really want to make sure he's okay. Maybe I want to tell him off for walking in on me and Gale. Or maybe I just want to scream at him for being so awkward and lovey-dovey and wussy.

Probably a combination of the last two.

When I see that Peeta has successfully made his way into his own house without falling again, and I march back into my own house, slamming the door hard behind me.

I pretty much run smack into Gale, who's already standing at this end of the hall.

"I'll see you later, Catnip," he says slowly, ducking around me.

"Wait, Gale!" I say. He's basically halfway out the door already. "Where are you going?"

He looks back over his shoulder and shakes his head a little, unable to come up with an answer to that question. "I have to go," he says in a hard voice.

"But—" I stutter. I've never been good with words, and my nerves over this whole "I've just shared my feelings with my best guy friend" situation and anger at Peeta for breaking up a perfectly good moment just make it worse.

"Sorry, Catnip," he says, a little quieter. "I'll see you later, okay?"

I can't think of anything to respond with. "Okay," I say. My voice is quiet and deflated.

Gale hesitates a second but then leaves. The door shuts quietly behind him.

My heart sinks down into my stomach. I can't help but wonder if Gale doesn't feel the same way. I mean, sure, there was something in his eyes when I told him I loved him, but I shut my eyes as soon as I decided to kiss him. For all I know, I could've just ruined our entire relationship in less than five minutes.

Cursing myself, I angrily snatch up my squished pastry from the floor and stomp back to the kitchen. I toss it in the trash can, feeling way too sad to do anything. Have I just lost both Peeta and Gale in one go?

I stalk over to the phone, fully prepared to call Peeta and scream his ear off, but then there's another knock on the door.

Come on.

I spin back around and throw the door open.

There's a man on my porch. He has a dress on. He also has these long fake eyelashes that are orange and sparkly, and I feel this strange desire to reach out and rip them off.

He holds up a jar of jam. "Would you like to endorse our jam?"

I slam the door in his face and hope he gets the message.

I storm back into my kitchen, throw my squished pastry into the trash can, and give my table a good, solid kick on the leg out of frustration. There, sitting on the table, are the other delectable snacks from Peeta, and honestly, the sight of them makes me want to cry. I realize that I shouldn't waste my tears on those bread products when Peeta's already cried over them enough. But they still feel like a punch on the stomach.

The salesman with the dress pops up in my kitchen window and holds the jam up again. "Are you sure?" he asks joyfully. For a second, all I can think is how on earth did this guy climb my back fence with those heels on? But the confusion immediately switches to anger. I grab Peeta's bucket of delicious food and throw it with all my might at the window.

"Get away from my house!" I scream.

The salesman falls backwards and throws the jelly into the air. I almost burst into tears out of frustration and anger.

I sink down onto the ground next to my scattered pastries and cover my face with my hands. Maybe it's good that there's no one here living with me. Then my family can't see me like this. I've come unhinged. It was bound to happen eventually, right?

I can just cut off all human contact. Maybe getting rid of Gale and Peeta was just a step in the right direction. Now I won't have to deal with my feelings for Gale or the frustration and emotional exhaustion of having Peeta around. And if I didn't have to deal with Haymitch anymore, I wouldn't mind.

There's another knock on my door.

In that moment, I could have sworn that the only emotion that I was physically capable of was anger.

I stormed down the hall and threw the door open again, and I was not at all surprised to see that it was the jam salesman once again. He smiles cheerfully and said, "Are you sure you don't want to endorse our jam? You haven't even tasted it yet."

I think he repeats this a full three times with me stewing in anger before I punch him right in the Botox-y mouth.

He falls backwards off my porch just like Peeta did. His little basket of jams tumbles to the ground, sending jars of jam scattering all across my lawn.

I pick up the nearest jar- apricot preserves- and throw it at him. It hits him hard in the chest, and he scrambles away from me.

And then I tackle him.

And I start beating him up.

I'm not sure why I've chose to take out my anger on this Capitol jelly salesman, but he was the nearest target. I continue to just punch every inch of his colorful self, and I do it without the slightest feeling of regret. My only objective is to beat this guy within an inch of his life using only the jelly that he's brought with him.

And suddenly, there are hands grabbing me and pulling me off of him. I try to struggle against them, but whoever it is is obviously much stronger than I am.

They shove me away from the guy and onto the ground. The jam salesman lets out a little string of whimpers and scrambles frantically about my yard, gathering his jams and jellies. He throws them haphazardly into his basket. He runs off without another glance, leaving one of his red high heels behind.

I lie down on the grass and stare up at the blue sky.

"What were you thinking?" Gale's standing above me, complete confusion on his face. "I could hear you beating him from halfway to the square."

"He wouldn't leave me alone," I say in a hard voice. "I told him to leave two times, and he wouldn't leave."

Gale offers his hand and pulls me to my feet. He doesn't look particularly mad at me, which, honestly, puts me over the moon for some reason. Also, when he finally drags me to a standing position, I'm really close to him, and that's just really distracting.

"Come on," Gale says in a low voice. "Let's get you back inside."

Gale gives me a little shove towards the door, and, thankfully, he follows me inside. Once I get past the threshold, I sort of remember what happened between us a couple minutes ago right here, and I am filled with a strange nervousness. There's always a chance that Gale doesn't feel the same way about me as I do about him, and I just ruined whatever friendship we still had left with one sentence.

Then again, there's always a chance that he does love me too…

Gale sits me down on the couch in my sitting room and pulls a chair up in front of me. I fold my hands in my lap, and Gale looks down at them.

"You bruised your fists," he comments. "That's how hard you were hitting him. I could literally hear the punches from down the street."

I keep my gaze trained on my lap. "Yeah, well… the guy deserved it," I mutter.

"He's from the Capitol, Katniss," Gale hisses. "I'm all for throwing it back in the Capitol's face, but you're a Victor. You could get annihilated for this—"

"Whatever," I interject. "I don't care."

"Katniss, I'm serious. I don't want you to get in trouble—"

Well, Gale, you'll be surprised that I'm already in deep trouble, I think to myself. Ever since I pulled those berries.

Of course, I don't actually say any of that out loud. What really comes out of my mouth is, "Whatever."

"Katniss, what is wrong with you?" Gale asks sharply.

I look up at him sharply. "I already told you!" I practically shout. I'm starting to sound hysterical. "I'm all alone here because Mother and Prim can't move in until all the Capitol people are gone, and Haymitch is always drunk, and Peeta's depressed because I don't love him, and I've just ruined my relationship with you!" There's complete silence as I take a breath. "Sorry that all that made me upset," I say sharply.

I suddenly feel like I'm going to start sobbing, and I can't barely hold the tears in. I look back down at my lap, debating how I can get around Gale without him being able to catch me.

"You seriously think that you ruined your relationship with me?" Gale asks in a measured voice.

I can't respond on account of the tears.

"Catnip, look at me," he says. His hand reaches out, and a finger slips under my chin to lift my eyes to meet his. There's some foreign emotion in his eyes that I can't place, and it basically freezes the breath in my throat. "Do you seriously think that you ruined your relationship with me?"

"Maybe," I whisper without thinking.

"Can't you see that I love you, Katniss?" he asks. "I've loved you the whole damn time— before you left for the Games, even."

Whatever I was going to respond with withers and dies on my tongue. Before I can say anything at all, though, Gale leans forward and pulls me towards him. In less than a second, our lips touch, and I melt.

I'm so completely absorbed by Gale that I don't even hear the quiet knock at the front door or the sound of someone coming into my house. I'm so utterly distracted by the overwhelming idea that Gale really does return my feelings that I don't hear Peeta's voice from inside my house.

"Katniss? Katniss, are you in here? Someone left a shoe in your front yard…and some jams? I thought I heard arguing outside, and I was wondering-"

Peeta has to stop short because he's walked into the sitting room. This time, he didn't just see us standing really close.

He tries to whirl around and make a quick escape, but he slips on my nice quality Capitol rug. His feet fly into the air along with several jars of jam and the cross-dresser-jam-salesman's red heel. The shoe lodges into the drywall, and the jams rain down like hail, shattering and exploding like little bombs. But the sound of the jars shattering in no way compares to the sound Peeta's head makes as it slams into the doorframe. There's a good, solid sound as flesh collides with highly-polished wood.

Peeta hits the ground hard and goes still.

"Peeta, gosh dang it!" I scream, jumping up from the couch. "Will you ever learn to just knock on the door and wait until I come get it?"

Peeta doesn't respond, and I panic. For a second, I can't tell if he's breathing. He's definitely not moving.

I scramble over to his body, and I slip on a shattered jelly. I crawl over to him, pulling little pieces of sticky, jelly-covered glass out of my hand. And the only thing I can think is:

Did we just kill Peeta?

The doorbell decides to ring at that exact moment.

Since I'm currently kneeling in a war zone of shattered glass, jelly mountains, and blood- both mine and Peeta's- Gale goes to get the door instead. From down the hall, I see as Gale pulls the door open, revealing the jam salesman, looking bruised and disheveled.

This time, however, he's not alone.

There's a rather large, buff man next to him. He's wearing a nice suit vest and some tight spandex shorts. And that's it. He has short cropped blue hair. He's holding hands with the cross-dressing jam salesman, and for some reason, that makes it all worse.

"There she is!" the jam salesman calls, pointing down the hallway at me. He says it joyfully, oddly enough.

He holds up another basket of jams. "I brought you more jams!" he says. "I'll just leave them on your porch this time. You can eat them at your leisure." He winks at me, and one of his fake eyelashes falls off his eye and sticks to his swollen cheek. He lets out a deranged giggle and says, "I brought protection this time. You can't beat me up now."

His eyes travel down to Peeta's body in my hallway, surrounded by the jelly bombs.

His eyes grow wide with shock. "YOU BEAT YOUR OWN BOYFRIEND UP WITH MY JAMS AS WELL!"

The first retort that pops into my head is "This isn't what it looks like," but I feel like that would seem suspicious. I open my mouth, but I can't come up with anything to say.

"OH MY GOD!" the jelly salesman screams, and Gale shuts the door right in his face. I know for a fact that that probably won't deter him in the slightest but whatever.

"Is he okay?" Gale asks, eyeing Peeta, who still hasn't moved.

I crawl over to Peeta's side and frantically search for a pulse.

Oh my god, I think, did I just kill Peeta?

In the moment, I'm too panicked to cry. As evil and terrible as it all sounds, my first though is We need to hide his body. But then I feel it. A very quiet, shallow pulse.

I look up at Gale, but I don't have any time to say anything before the jam salesman starts pounding on the door again.

"YOU HAVE TO LET ME IN!" he shrieks. "I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT YOU BEAT YOUR OWN BOYFRIEND WITH MY JAMS AS WELL! I REALLY NEED TO CALL THE PEACEKEEPERS, BUT I WILL NEED YOU USE YOUR PHONE! AND YOU ALSO NEED TO TRY MY JAMS!"

Now that I know Peeta's heart hasn't stopped, my mind instantly goes to other things. In order to keep my loved ones alive, the Capitol has to be wholly convinced that I love Peeta, and if this jam salesman goes around telling people that I "beat Peeta to death with some jam" then I might as well be digging a bunch of graves with my own shovel.

I glance up at Gale again, and I don't need to say a word. We've developed a sort of language of our own where we can talk through our eyes. After a second, Gale nods solemnly. He knows what to do.

He reaches out and opens the door again. "Why don't you come in?" he says in a slow, methodical voice.

"Thank you," the jam salesman says with a huff. He leans over and snatches up his little array of jams and marches over the threshold.

His giant boyfriend follows him inside but doesn't say a word. He stands right by the doorway and takes a moment to size Gale up. The two appear to be of equal power, but I dare say that the Capitol men are at quite a disadvantage right now.

The jam salesman walks over to the table against the wall and sets down the fancy basket of jam and points at me. "Direct me to your phone," he says in what he must believe is a commanding tone. "I must telephone someone about this travesty." He points down at Peeta's unconscious form. A little puddle of blood is forming beneath Peeta's head.

I look at Gale, and he nods.

As fast as lightning, Gale slams the blue-haired boyfriend's skull into the solid doorframe with a dull thunk. Without an ounce of struggle, he slumps to the ground at Gale's feet.

The jam salesman lets out the most high-pitched, blood-curdling scream that I've ever heard in my life, snatches up his basket of jams, and proceeds to sprint down the hall in search of the phone.

He doesn't make it far, though.

About halfway down the hall, his foot lands on a slippery mountain of jam and shattered glass, and he goes airborne. Everything seems to go in slow motion as he soars straight towards Peeta's unconscious body.

It's not like there's anything I could have done to stop it, but that won't make me forget the sickening thud that the jam salesman made as he landed on Peeta's chest. If that wasn't bad enough, the basket of jams landed on Peeta's head.

"Oh my god, I think we killed him this time," I say in a whisper as soon as everything has gone quiet.

"Shit," Gale replies.

The jam salesman lets out a long moan, but he doesn't get up.

"What do we do now?" Gale asks.

I look around the entire hall once. The jam salesman appears uninjured, but he's still dangerous. The boyfriend is out cold, which isn't very good for a cover-up. Then there's Peeta, whose chest doesn't appear to be rising and falling at all.

"I think we need to call Haymitch."

I apparently have no rope in this well-stocked Capitol home of mine. I practically tear apart my kitchen in search of rope to tie up the Capitol people, but I find nothing. Gale doesn't find any in the rest of my house, so we're forced to get creative. I grab the rug that Peeta wiped out on- which is now covered in blood- and start cutting into strips. Gale and I start hog-tying the Capitol people up. About halfway through, the jams salesman makes a break for the door, but the ties around his ankles prevent him from making it all that far. I pick up a decorative vase from a nearby table and shatter it on his head. He is then still enough for me to finish tying his arms.

Gale and I manage to carry their unconscious bodies into my basement. We jam them behind some abandoned paint cans and turn the lights off. I'm praying that the Capitol cared enough to soundproof the basement when they were building it. I have a feeling there's going to be some screaming.

We return to the hallway, and that's when I'm finally forced to face Peeta.

Peeta. The baker's son. A Victor of the 74th Hunger Games. My supposed boyfriend. Peeta's dead. He's dead. My boyfriend is dead.

"God, Gale," I whisper, staring at the puddle of blood surround his blond head like a halo. "I killed him."

"You didn't kill him," Gale says quietly. "He slipped on your rug."

"My rug, Gale."

"That's like blaming the person who invented guns for the death of everyone that our lovely Peacekeepers shoot."

"Can I sue the maker of the rug then?"

"Too bad we cut it to tie up our hostages."

"Too bad… I guess it did dispose of the evidence."

We let that settle into the air as we stare at Peeta's dead body. I honestly cannot fathom that we just killed Peeta. Or, rather, I killed Peeta. I killed Peeta with my love for Gale. I killed Peeta with my fancy gold-embroidered Capitol hallway runner. I killed my own fake boyfriend, and now he's lying in a scary puddle of blood in my hallway, surrounding by jams, smears of Capitol makeup, and…some more jams.

"We need to hide the body," I say matter-of-factly, and that was when I really died inside.

And Gale, being the amazing friend he is, helped me. He helped me hide my boyfriend because he loves me.

Oh, the irony of my life.

I have never been more covered in blood in my life. I have never felt so immoral. We hid him in the basement with the hostages. We covered him with sheets because I don't want to see him ever again. I went and changed clothes, and we bleached them along with Gale's shirt. Speaking of bleach, we bleached the hallway. And pretty much the rest of my house. We threw all of the jams into a bag and threw them into the basement with Peeta and the hostages. I hung a painting on the wall where the jam salesman's shoe made a hole.

And then, only then, did we call Haymitch.

He was pretty angry when I told him to come to my house immediately, but I told him it was urgent. All it took was one mention of Peeta problems, and he sighed and said he'd be right over.

He let himself into my house and found Gale and I standing nervously in my kitchen, pacing and generally freaking out.

"Who's this?" Haymitch asked, narrowing his eyes at Gale.

"Um…Gale," I respond. "My…friend."

We'll take one truth at a time, I think.

"What's wrong?" he asks, looking between us suspiciously. "What have you done? Where's Peeta?"

"Well…here's the thing, Haymitch," I say. "I kind of…killed him."

Haymitch turns a garish shade of white, and his eyes narrow. "Funny joke. But seriously, where is he?"

"I'm not kidding," I say desperately. "He slipped on my rug and hit his head on the doorframe… and then the jam salesman landed on him and smashed his skull with the jam basket…"

I trail off as the tragedy of the whole situation hits me square in the chest. Haymitch just looks really dumbfounded.

"So technically it wasn't Katniss's fault," Gale says, coming to my rescue. "If anyone's at fault, it's the jam salesman. He's the one who left his shoes and jam on your lawn that Peeta brought in."

"Wait, wait, wait," Haymitch says loudly. "Go back. Explain."

So we do. Together, Gale and I tell Haymitch the entire story of the jam salesman and Peeta's tragic death. However, we make a unanimous and silent agreement to skate over the part where Gale and I were making out on my couch because that seems like too much for Haymitch to know.

"Well…" Haymitch says slowly when we've finished. "You've mucked things up in the worst of ways today, haven't you?"

I groan and put my head in my hands. "And that's not even the worst part."

"Oh, god—"

"We tied up the jam salesman and his boyfriend, and we stuffed them in the basement with the body," I moan.

"Well, doesn't that take the freaking cake," Haymitch growls.

"What do we do?" I ask him

Haymitch takes a final swig from his bottle and slams it down on the table. "First, we need to take care of the body. Take me to him."

Somehow, I drag myself out of my seat and lead Haymitch to the basement door. The three of us creep down the stairs in complete darkness, and I mentally prepare myself to see Peeta's body again. I can't tell if I'm just in shock or if I really don't care that my fake boyfriend is dead, but for some reason, I just can't feel much.

When I get to the bottom of the stairs, I tug the cord to turn the light on.

I point to the corner in front of us. "The Capitol hostages are over there," I say. "You can see the jam salesman's stiletto peeking out from behind those paint cans."

"Aha, I see," Haymitch says. This is why I called him. He honestly doesn't care.

Then, I walk over to the corner where Peeta's hiding. I push aside a couple of half-empty boxes to reveal what would appear to be a haphazardly lumped together pile of tarps.

"He's under there," I say quietly.

Gale lets out a sigh, but Haymitch looks at me quizzically. "This is where you hid him?" he asks derisively. "You did a terrible job."

"Whatever, Haymitch," I reply in a weary voice.

Disregarding any respect we could still have for Peeta's body, Haymitch uses his foot to flip the tarp off Peeta's face. He looks even more dead now, which makes sense since it's been about an hour since his death. The blood looks crusty and fake over his waxy skin. In fact, he looks almost like a doll…

I'm about to suggest that we just get on with it, but a stiletto comes down hard on my temple. I crumple to the ground, landing uncomfortably on the boxes that I pushed aside to hide Peeta. When I force my eyes open, gasping for breath, I watch Haymitch topple over.

I don't even have time to cry out before the paint can striking my head turns out all the lights.

When I wake up much later, I smile. My bedroom is dark like it's just the middle of the night. It's all been a dream, I think to myself. I didn't kill Peeta. I haven't ruined everything.

But the smell of the room begs to differ.

And when I roll over, I don't find the bright yellow wall of my bedroom. Peeta's dead face is staring back at me.

I scramble away from Peeta and, consequently, run smack into another body. Haymitch. He's curled up in a ball on his side, moaning and groaning, with a large welt on his forehead, which I assume came from a paint can. I feel a similar one on my forehead.

My mind kicks into gear, and I remember what happened.

I scramble onto my feet. Where's the jam salesman? His boyfriend? Where's Gale?

At that thought, I go scrambling into the darkness of the basement, running in what I assume is the direction of the stairs. Panic surges through me. What if the Capitol guy escaped and now he's leaking stories to the presses. Once President Snow catches wind that I killed Peeta, we'll be dead for sure. Who knows how people are going to react…especially knowing that I killed him. People are going to flip out. They'll be calling for my blood.

Oh, Peeta….why did this have to happen? Why did you have to love me? Why did you have to trip on my-

Something slams hard into my face. At first I think I'm being attacked, but then I realize it was the ground.

I tripped on a body.

I scramble away like an animal, heart pounding.

And I end up in a puddle of something sticky and wet. Blood.

I have to stifle a scream.

The jam salesman's boyfriend is lying in a scary puddle of blood. There's a bloody paint can discarded a few feet away. He has the pull-chain for the light clutched in his hand. He must've turned the lights out. He doesn't appear to be moving. Or breathing for that matter.

I'm too horrified to even think, for a second, that we've killed a second person today. I can't even deal with that right now.

I turn and run, leaving behind the blue-haired man's body. I run up the stairs, taking them two at a time. I slam into the door, shaking the door handle with all my might.

Locked.

I'm trapped with two dead bodies with only an unconscious Haymitch for help. I'm screwed.

I slam my fist on the door.

The jam salesman's got to be out there somewhere. Maybe he's already gone, and he's just keeping me contained with all the evidence.

But wait…Gale's out there somewhere… Isn't he?

In response, I hear his voice.

"Put the phone down."

He's far off in the house. I assume he's in the kitchen.

"Never!" I hear the jam salesman yell back.

"You just killed your own boyfriend with a paint can!" Gale shouts. He was the one that killed the boyfriend? "If you call, you're just as guilty as the rest of us!"

I need to get out there. That's all I can think. Gale's still got the guy trapped in my house.

I scramble back down the stairs and grab the paint can out of the puddle of blood. I run back up the stairs and, with all my might, bring the paint can down on the handle. It pops off and rolls down the stairs. I throw the paint can back down with it and make a mad dash for the kitchen.

I burst in with just enough time to watch the jam salesman pull out the kitchen knife. He's still clutching the phone with one hand, tears streaming down his face, dragging streaks of mascara over his cheeks. He looks completely insane standing there with that kitchen knife, but I suppose we must all look a little crazy.

"Put that down!" I say in a surprisingly commanding voice.

Both Gale and the jam salesman glance over at me. Gale looks relieved, but the jam salesman lets out a deranged, animal-like wail. He relinquishes hold of the phone, and it clatters to the ground, letting out beeping noises. The jam salesman grips the large kitchen knife with both hands and holds it out towards me and Gale.

"I said, 'Put that down,'" I repeat, my voice still firm.

I take one step into the room, and the jam salesman goes ballistic. He jumps forward, jabbing the knife towards me, screaming like a cat getting stabbed to death.

"Noooooo," he says in a breathy voice. His eyes dart between me and Gale. "I won't put it down! I am going to call someone, and I am going to spread your crimes all over Panem!"

"And what of your boyfriend?" Gale snaps. "That was your own fault!"

A new onslaught of tears pours over the jam salesman's cheek, and he shrieks at the top of his lungs. "Ariel's death was not my fault! You are the ones who kept me prisoner." His eyes cross. "I will ruin you!"

"You didn't give us a chance to explain—" I start, but before I can finish the jam salesman chucks a paint can at my head.

I barely hit the floor in time, and the can strikes the wall. Of course, since today is the worst day ever, it explodes, and a giant wave of fuchsia paint rains down all over me. Following that, the can itself clatters down the wall and hits me in the mouth. I spit out a profuse amount of blood and a tooth and roll over.

Then, a paint can explodes all over the cabinets behind Gale's head, and the jam salesman starts running at Gale with all his force, knife held out in front of him.

There's nothing I could have done to stop it, but I probably could have done something besides scream.

All in a second, the jam salesman darts, screaming, across the entire room and stabs my new Capitol-made kitchen knife into Gale's midsection.

The three of us all sort of look at the knife sticking out of Gale's stomach for a couple seconds in stunned silence. Then Gale falls back against the countertop, effectively pulling the knife out from within him.

Somehow I struggle to my feet, slipping through the mass of paint, and sprint towards the jam salesman. At this point, I don't care that he has a knife on him. All I care about is taking him down.

I slam into his side, and the knife goes flying out of his hand. It slides through the green paint and then the fuchsia paint and clatters up against the wall. But I only hear that because I immediately start beating the crap out of the jam salesman.

He screams like a deranged animal the entire time, but he actually puts up a fight. Within a moment, I find myself rolling around in the paint, engaged in a full on brawl. We fight for an unintelligible amount of time, but, before I know it, I'm on the ground and the jam salesman is above me, holding an empty paint can menacingly above his head.

I wait for the impact, but Haymitch comes running in at the last second and knocks the jam salesman unconscious with another vase.

I lie on the ground, gasping for breath, as Haymitch takes in the scene.

He nods to himself. "You refused the jam, and the salesman did all this in revenge."

I let out a cough of paint and blood.

Behind me, I hear Gale let out a moan, and he pulls his hand away from his side, letting blood run into the green paint that's all over the floor.

Haymitch sighs. "Sweetheart, we are in this deep."

He picks the phone up out of the green and pink mess of paint. All it takes is one emergency call from Haymitch before all heck breaks loose. He turns to me solemnly and says, "Sweetheart, ready up the water works," and he goes to the door to let the Peacekeepers into my home.

All in a matter of minutes, my house was crawling with government officials and Peacekeepers. A hovercraft- a freaking hovercraft- showed up chockfull of Capitol people and news people and medics and more Peacekeepers. Some of the medical people took Gale away, and I kind of lost it then. Haymitch explained the issue to the Peacekeepers, saying that the jam salesman killed everyone in retaliation for me not tasting his jams. The Peacekeepers went and retrieved Peeta and the salesman's boyfriend from the basement.

And that's when I started crying.

Everyone just sort of walked around me, cleaning the kitchen and taking away dead bodies and whatnot, and I just sort of stood there crying. I just sit there and cry and spit up blood. Haymitch came over eventually and patted me on the back. It was like all the emotion was suddenly catching up with me, and I couldn't stop it.

Today, I have made Peeta cry several times, beaten up a Capitol jam salesman, confessed my love for Gale, killed Peeta, kidnapped two Capitol people, hidden a body, been knocked unconscious by a paint can, tripped on another body, beaten up the same jam salesman in a puddle of paint, lost a tooth, and possibly gotten my best friend killed.

And now we're lying about it all and blaming it on the jam salesman.

I don't know how much more I can take.

I don't know what I'll do if Gale's dead…. If Gale dies, I'm going to lose it. I can't lose my fake boyfriend and my real boyfriend all in one day, can I? Is that really fair? And Gale's death really would be my fault. I got him involved in this. If I just hadn't told him that I love him….

I start to cry even harder, and Haymitch just gives a sigh and says, "It'll be all right, sweetheart." We both know that's a lie.

At some point, I cry my way into insanity, and the medics get concerned. Haymitch mentions that he and I might have concussions from the paint can attacks, and we're shepherded onto the hovercraft. I spit out some more blood all over their nice, clean medical stuff, and they get all concerned.

"What day is today?" one of them asks, shining a light in my eye.

"I don't know."

"Do you remember what happened when you hit your head?"

"Yeah. I remember the red heel hitting my temple and then the paint can smashing into my head."

They exchange worried glances. They probably think I'm making it up.

"Does your head hurt?"

"Yes," I say. Suddenly, I feel really, really bad. I'm guilty. I'm sad. I'm scared. I don't know how much more I can take. Really. I don't know. I start to feel the panic welling up inside me, and I almost start crying again.

Someone walks a stretcher past us, and I barely catch a glimpse of his blond hair.

And I promptly throw up on the nearest Capitol nurse and pass out in her arms.

When I wake up, I'm staring at a bright, white hospital light.

It burns my eyes, and it makes them tear up… But that's really the wake up I deserve, right? I have just blamed a semi-innocent, cross-dressing Capitol jam salesman for several deaths and casualties that were really my fault (although, he was the one who killed Ariel). I deserve to be in pain.

"Where am I?" I ask blearily even though I'm not sure anyone else is in the room.

However, a voice responds. "You're in a medical hovercraft," a Capitol nurse says. She's poking around on a machine that I'm hooked up to. "Miss Everdeen, you are perfectly safe. You have nothing to worry about."

Nothing to worry about? Ha. That's funny.

The nurse goes on to explain what's happened to me, but I'm not really listening. I only catch bits, such as "concussion", "stitched up", and "new tooth."

After that one, I run my tongue along my teeth, and, sure enough, there isn't a gaping, bloody hole in the front of my mouth. The gums are still swollen, but I have a fancy new tooth jammed into my jaw. I suppose they couldn't have the new Victor of District Twelve running around looking unattractive.

I shudder at the word Victor. The lack of the "s" is chilling.

"Miss Everdeen?" the nurse asks, shocking me back to reality. "Do you understand?"

"Oh, yes," I respond even though I have no idea.

"Good," she says swiftly. "I believe you are well enough to give your statement to the Peacekeepers and tell the presses your story. I'll send them right in."

I make a big protest, but she tells me to calm down and shoves me back into bed, threatening to strap me down.

Anyway, she does in fact send in the Peacekeepers, and they do in fact ask me for my side of the story. At first, I start to panic because I'm unsure that my story will match up with Haymitch's, but I suppose my head injuries will cover up for my hesitance. I do my best to crap something together for them, and they seem satisfied enough.

After the Peacekeepers, the presses come flooding in. It's a flurry of:

"How do you feel now that your boyfriend is dead?" Terrible.

"How tragic that there were two deaths… Would you describe what the two bodies looked like?" No.

"Will you ever eat jam again?" Probably.

"Just how depressed are you about your dear boyfriend's death?" There are feelings I cannot describe. Leave me alone.

Eventually, after tears are shed on both sides, they leave me alone.

Haymitch comes in after a while with an ice pack against his head and leans really close to me to commend me on my lying skills. That's a nice change of pace from his normal angry retorts about how terrible I am. I guess hiding a body together has made us closer…

That brings me back to Gale, and I nearly lose it again.

"Haymitch?" I ask quickly as he gets up to leave. "Have you heard anything about Gale?" I choke on my words.

"Nope," Haymitch replies. I wonder if he knows what happened between us. "I was barely allowed to come see you."

"Right…" I say. Worry starts to eat away at me again.

Haymitch nods and wanders out. Not two seconds after he's gone, the nurse comes back in.

"One final visitor, and then you can go," she says.

Then the door opens, and I'm shocked.

"Hello, Miss Everdeen," says President Snow. He strolls over to my bedside and smiles. "It's so wonderful to see that you're okay…after everything you've been through today."

I can almost sense the omniscience in his voice. He knows. He knows. I tell myself to calm down. He can't possibly know. How could he?

He turns and addresses the nurse hanging by the door. "Would you mind giving me and Miss Everdeen a moment alone?"

"Of course, Mr. President," the nurse says hurriedly.

I send a look, begging her not to leave me alone with him, but she scurries out anyway. Of course, she's afraid of him too.

He gives me that smile again, and the evil just shines right through it. His eyes are like a snake's, locked onto mine. I want desperately to look away, but I can't. I'm afraid if I keep looking at me, he'll somehow read my thoughts. Or I'll start crying. That's the last thing I need to happen right now.

"Miss Everdeen…" he says, shaking his head. "What are we going to do with you…"

I don't know what I'm supposed to respond with. "What?"

"You, my dear, have just done nothing but cause trouble for yourself," he says smoothly. "First the berries…now this."

My heart starts hammering in my chest. He knows, he knows, he knows…

"I don't know what you mean, Mr. President," I finally force out. I was hoping my voice wouldn't sound so broken, so pathetic.

"I was only referring to how you always manage to…get what you want," he says quietly.

A little, pathetic noise threatens to escape my lips, but I stifle it.

He sneers at me. "I have a knack for knowing when people are lying to me, Miss Everdeen. And I have a distinct feeling that you might not be telling the truth about what happened today."

"Of- Of course not," I stutter out. I didn't sound very convincing, not even to myself.

He speaks as though he's scolding a small child. "I was told that you would be difficult, but I assured them that you wouldn't. Don't prove me wrong." He waits for a response, but it doesn't come. He leans towards me, dropping his voice, and finally gets to the point.

"Did you kill Peeta Mellark?"

Tears sting my eyes. I can't even respond. "No," I say. "No. I didn't kill him." I swallow, gathering my voice from where it's cowering in the back of my throat. "Why would you even think that? I loved him!"

I hope that came out sounding like a distressed girlfriend. It probably didn't.

"Really?" President Snow says like he's only mildly interested in my lies. "Because I have reason to believe that you never loved him in the first place."

The door bangs open, and a nurse steps in like an angel sent straight from heaven. President Snow whirls around like he might kill her. She cowers back against the doorframe. "I have to give Miss Everdeen her medicine."

"Of course," the President says tightly. "I'll just be going." He pauses in the doorway to send me one last look, and it reads: we're not done just yet. The woman gives me my drugs. I pray that I'll just drift away into darkness, but the door is thrown open again. The nurse starts to protest, saying that visiting time is over, but Haymitch, of course, doesn't listen.

"Sweetheart, I have news."

"What?" I ask. My voice sounds frantic, but, of course, the drugs are starting to suck me away.

"Well, first, the jam salesman is being sent to prison," Haymitch says.

I raise an eyebrow as if to say No questions asked?

"The Peacekeepers believe that he deserves a lifetime in prison," Haymitch says. He lowers his voice. "Though the President wasn't so sure."

That knocks the breath out of me again, and my vision starts to go dark around the edges. Though I want desperately to get sucked under by the drugs, I know Haymitch has more to say.

"What else?" I ask distantly.

"Your friend who you seem to care deeply about—"

"Gale," I supply quickly, trying to pull myself further out of the drugs.

"Okay, they told me Gale will be fine," Haymitch says. It sounds like his voice is coming from down a tunnel. "I told them you'd pay his medical expenses. I thought he deserved as much."

For helping me hide a body, he deserves way more than this.

At this point, I can hardly keep my eyes open, but the fact that Gale is okay brings a drugged smile to my face. "Good," I reply, and my voice sounds drunk.

"I was going to suggest that you go visit him before things go south, but I guess since you're drugged…" his voice trails off.

I try in vain to wake myself up, but the blackness is too powerful. I'm under within a second.

When I wake up, there's a bit of an argument going on outside… and I really have to go to the bathroom. I'm pleasantly surprised to see that I'm no longer restrained in any way, so I just get myself out of bed and wander over to the door.

As I get closer to the door, I start to hear more of the argument, and it makes me stop in my tracks.

"You will be able to see her when she wakes up, Mr. President," the nurse from earlier says.

"I demand to see her now," President Snow's voice replies.

I jump backwards from the door, my heart racing. My eyes dart around the room for any form of escape. A window. An air duct. A door.

"Mr. President, you don't understand," the nurse insists, her voice nervous. "She's under heavy medication—"

I sprint over to the side door and start rattling the handle. Locked.

"I am a busy man," Snow says sharply. "I need to speak with her immediately. Apologies need to be made for the death of her beloved."

Apologies, my foot. I kick the locked door in frustration as my heart starts to beat like a panicky bunny. I give the handle one more jiggle—

"Of course, sir," the nurse says, backing down. "I'll see what I can do."

I'm pretty sure a faint squeal escapes my lips, and then, like a present from God himself, the door opens. I scramble out just as the nurse opens the other entrance to the room.

And I'll be darned if Darius isn't the Peacekeeper that saved me.

"Thank you," I breathe as I stumble against him.

"What are you doing up?" he asks.

There are many things I could tell Darius, especially since I can hear the nurse and Snow freaking out about where I've wandered off to, but that's all too complicated. The only thing that registers in my head is that I have to get away from this door before the nurse comes to check this entrance.

I look up at Darius and whisper, "Gale?"

He understands what I mean and sighs. "Come with me."

We get out of sight just before the President opens the side entrance in a rage.

Darius leads me down a couple hallways. I have no idea where we are, but I really don't have a need to ask. I just need to see Gale. We get stopped a couple times by some nurses that are concerned that I'm walking around, but Darius shuts them up. And this is why it's good to be friends with Peacekeepers.

Finally, we find Gale's room.

"Can I help you?" a nurse asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

"I'd like to see Gale," I say.

"I'm sorry," she says in a clipped tone. "It's not visiting time."

"Please," I beg. "He's my friend."

"I'm sorry," she says. "No." I have this strange desire to lunge and this woman and tackle her. It takes me a couple seconds to remember that my desire to tackle people is what got us into this mess in the first place. Darius grabs my arm before I can do anything.

"Come back later," the nurse says, and she walks off down the hallway.

Darius and I watch her leave, and I feel defeated.

And then Darius just opens the door to Gale's room and walks right in as if we had permission.

Again, this is why it's good to be friends with Peacekeepers. They get stuff done.

Darius pushes me into the room and shuts the door behind me, leaving me alone with Gale. Gale's lying on a hospital bed similar to mine, except he's attached to all these machines and medical things. There's a big, thick bandage all the way around his stomach and sides. They have his strapped down. He does not look happy with the arrangement.

"Katniss?"

"Hey, Gale," I say pathetically. "How…How are you feeling?"

"Pretty awful," he says flatly. "How about you?"

"I'm fine," I say even though that's a total lie.

"What happened?" he asks. "Is there any news…?"

"Yeah. The jam salesman is going to jail for life," I say. I refrain from adding that President Snow doesn't think we're sending the right people to jail. "Thanks, Gale," I add, "by the way. Thanks for, you know, helping me." I grab his hand, and he smiles a little.

"It was the least I could do," Gale says. "I helped start things anyway."

"No, I definitely started things," I say. "I just dragged you in with me."

Gale shrugs. "What are friends for if not keeping secrets and taking knives for each other?"

I laugh a little. "And this is why I love you." I barely kiss his forehead before the door busts open.

Haymitch stops short when he sees us. Darius comes in behind him, saying, "I tried to stop him."

"What are you doing?" Haymitch asks. "What are you doing?"

I let go of Gale's hand immediately. "What do you—?"

"No," Haymitch says. "No, no, no, no, no." He runs over and grabs onto me, dragging me out of the room. "Is this why Peeta….?" His question trails off, but I know what he's asking.

"Yeah," I say almost emotionlessly.

"No," Haymitch says, dragging me into the hallway. "No, no, no, no."

"But Haymitch—" I start to say, but he's already pushed me into the hallway and slammed the door in my face.

Immediately, I hear Haymitch start shouting on the other side of the closed door. It muffles the sound just enough that I can't make out the words, but I can probably guess what Haymitch is screaming about.

I jump at the door and start pounding on it with my fists, screaming, "Leave him alone, Haymitch!"

But the shouting doesn't stop, and I hear Gale's voice join in as well. My concern instantly jumps to Gale's health, and I wonder if all this excitement and screaming is going to hurt him more. I start pounding harder on the door, unsure of what else to do, until Darius drags me off.

He hauls me down the hallway a ways until he determines I'm calm enough to walk myself.

"I tried to stop Haymitch," he says. "By the time I saw him coming, he was already halfway in the room."

"I don't blame you," I say quietly. "Haymitch has a way of getting wherever he wants without letting anyone stop him..."

We walk in silence for a little while, meandering through unrecognizable halls of the hovercraft. Darius must know where we're going, but I don't really bother to pay any attention.

Then, because Darius is Darius, he cracks a smile and looks down at me. "You two are finally together now, huh?"

I let out a huff, and I feel my cheeks redden. "I suppose that's obvious."

Darius lets out a bark of laughter and sidesteps to bump my side. "How long has this been going on?" he pesters, a grin on his face.

I roll my eyes. "Not long," I reply. Although, our kiss seems like it was years ago… Then again, I have no idea how much time has passed in this hospital.

"Why couldn't this have happened when I needed five dollars for your kiss?" Darius asks teasingly.

I scoff and cross my arms, but my face still burns bright red.

Darius gives up making fun of me, and eventually we make it back to my hospital room. I am about to go back in when my nurse comes running down the hall.

"Miss Everdeen, where have you been?" she asks angrily. She looks back and forth between me and Darius.

Luckily, my Peacekeeper friend comes to my rescue. "I found her wandering around looking for a bathroom earlier this morning," Darius replies.

Yet another reason why it's good to be friends with Peacekeepers. People believe them.

"I got up, and no one was around," I say. "And I really had to go to the bathroom, so I was left to find one by myself."

The nurse sighs. "Well, that was very unwise of you. And, for your information, the President about had my head because we couldn't find you. He really needed to talk to you."

I swallow and try not to let my nerves show. "I'm so sorry to have missed him," I say in a steady voice. Actually, I'm quite happy I put off our talk.

"It's alright," the nurse says as she bustles me back into my room. "He left after a couple minutes of waiting, but he told me to inform you that he'll give his apologies soon."

The nurse sits me back down on my bed and does a quick check up of my vitals. It only takes a couple minutes before she tells me I can leave.

"Really?" I ask. It seems odd that I will be allowed to leave immediately after coming off heavy drugging.

"Of course you need to go," the nurse says. "Your boyfriend's funeral is taking place in a couple hours."

Is it bad that "boyfriend" made me think of Gale instead of Peeta?

Peeta's funeral is an irritating affair.

I guess that's callous of me to be saying, but it's the first word that came to mind. Me, Haymitch, and Peeta's family are probably the only people that really knew Peeta. Mother and Prim came, but I didn't feel like talking. Hordes of Capitol people showed up. They sobbed and wailed and cried loudly and exaggeratedly. Most of the nurses and doctors from the hovercraft showed up. And so did the camera crews.

There were so many cameras at his funeral it wasn't even funny. The people of the Capitol could attend Peeta's funeral without even being there. They could bawl in the privacy of their own home.

That, I think, is what I found irritating. The combination of the loud, unjustified crying and all the cameras didn't sit well with me. Well…that and President Snow. He stood on the other side of Peeta's casket and watched me the entire. It was probably the single moment in my life that I am glad that I was able to cry.

We bury Peeta in a nice, little plot of grassy land. Wildflowers grow all around the dirt lump that now covers Peeta's grave. It's a beautiful day. He would've liked this, I think to myself. Actually, Peeta probably would have liked to be alive for this day.

As I wiped the last tears off my face and headed off for my house, one of the TV people ran over and started asking me question about Peeta's death and how I was feeling and what it would be like without him.

Haymitch didn't even yell at me when I knocked the camera out of the guy's hands.

I shuffled off away from the crowds. I locked myself in my house like a hermit. I didn't even let Prim and Mother in. For hours, people knocked on my door, shouted questions. For hours, people came to offer their condolences. Meanwhile, I sat in my hallway and stared at the spot on the ground where I watched Peeta die. It was rather masochistic, but I did it anyway.

At some point, Haymitch came, and I let him in. He told me that the hovercraft was headed back for the Capitol and that they'd be taking Gale. He still wasn't in a very good condition. He would be brought back when he was better, and we would be receiving updates. I didn't like the way Haymitch was talking about Gale, so I made him leave my house.

And I was alone again.

I remembered that President Snow said he was going to talk to me later, so I wandered up to my bedroom. I'll just go to bed before that happens, won't I?

I ended up standing in the hallway again and staring at the spot where Peeta died. You can almost see the blood stain on the floor. Maybe I'm just imagining it. I half convinced myself that maybe it didn't really happen, but when I moved the painting to the side, there was a large hole there.

I finally went upstairs to my bedroom. I stared at my pathetic self in the mirror. I am a terrible person, I thought to myself.

And that's when I saw it.

There was a jam jar sitting on my bed. A little, tiny jar full of apricot preserves.

My heart was pounding as I approached it. I noticed there was a little note stuck to the side. With a shaking hand, I grabbed the note. In pretty, curly handwriting, it said:

This isn't over. You will eat my jams.

I barely had time to read this before the door slammed behind me, and a sweet-smelling towel was clamped over my mouth.


A/N: So how was that cliffhanger? Hope you enjoyed. We sure enjoyed writing it. There will be a Part 2 coming soon. As usual, please review and tell us what you thought!