He was wrong. He couldn't be more wrong if he tried. He thought I hadn't noticed him before; but I had. How could I not? He saved my life and risked punishment; of course the punishment dished out was only from his mother but I'm convinced that woman is a witch in disguise providing I've never seen her actually be nice to anyone or speak kindly in that matter.
Her aside, before I become horrible, without the boy with the bread, I'd have probably died a long time ago. I'll never forget the day he tossed me the burnt bread I'm more than certain he purposely dropped into the fire knowing I was there.
I never expected him to love me; not in a million years. I've never even given love a thought; not after my father died. Although I blame the capital but that's another story entirely and at this moment in time, as I sit on a crisp, clean, cotton, possibly hand woven sheeted bed, all that is going through my mind is Peeta Mellark.
I know I should be thinking about the games and ways to survive and kill, including him, but his interview seems to have taken somewhat of a toll on me. Yes, I did slam him in to the wall and made it clear that I thought he was just trying to make me look weak and I really did but underneath all of it I guess I do like him; a lot more than I'd like to considering I have to kill him to be able to see Prim again.
Sleeping doesn't seem to be an option for me with my mind being so alert although I've only one thought alive; I swing my legs over the side of the bed and place my feet on the plush sandy coloured carpet floor. I don't really know where I'm going to go; I'm just hoping I don't wake anyone. The last thing I need right now is someone telling me to go back to bed for me to lay by myself in anticipation of the games to come.
I glare down at my feet as if they're supposed to give me an answer of where I'm going to go at this time. After moment of silence, I feel that it's beginning to deafen me and decide to just walk in the general direction of the door and see where I end up. To say that I'm going to battle to my death in a matter of hours, I'm surprisingly calm but I'm miles away.
I don't think of putting on shoes, regardless of the fact I know there are around 12 pairs that will allow me to walk silently around the floor, I just want escape this room. It's starting to cave in on me and I feel trapped; imprisoned even. If I die in the arena, then I'm to die in a world homed in on by camera's and if I win, although the guilt isn't worth thinking about momentarily considering we haven't even started the 'real' game yet, I will still be homed in on by camera's for everyone to watch.
Perhaps this is the reason I practically run out of my room. If these are to be my final hours away from public eyes and in safety, then I'm not going to spend them in ways I shall live or die in, in the future; trapped. As I had hoped, my feet manage to take me in a direction which happens to be going up towards the roof.
I wonder if it's cold. I open the door at the top of the stairs and glance around. There is a figure already out there, and it's unmistakably the shape of Peeta. I hesitate, questioning if I should go back down and leave him alone in his last hours of safety and freedom, if you can call it that. I think back to the room I have left behind me and the penthouse floor where I could dwell and find myself heating up and becoming strangely claustrophobic and yearning for air.
Stepping out on to the roof, being hunter styled quiet, I realise that I maybe should have put shoes on but turning back to find some isn't an option as my imagination has begun to replace the rooms with cells with writing scrawled on the wall reminding me that I'm living my last hours and that I'll possibly never see anyone again and that I'll die lonely, painfully and unloved.
Unloved. The word haunts me. I can't think of love without pain but that's how I've become trained to program since no one in The Seam show love to anyone but their families, or that I've seen and with what happened to our family.
I've become so lost in my own thoughts now that I don't realise I've managed to keep on moving towards Peeta and that my breathing has increased considerably in speed and sound. So much for being hunter styled quiet.
My walking goes against my breathing and begins to deteriorate causing me to stagger towards Peeta, who has heard me by now and is looking over his shoulder at me. His expression is knitted into one of worry but I don't understand since I don't have a clue what I'm doing which is highly out of character for me, but not as out of character as the next thing that happens.
A single tear drops down my face and I'm sure this tear must have been made of platinum, silver or gold and decorated in glitter because Peeta's eyes widen as he watches the salt water drip off of my chin and onto my top as if it's sacred. He turns all the way around to face me and is saying something to me; but I can't hear a word. All I can see is his mouth moving and his worried expression deepening.
I've stopped walking and I'm stood a metre or so away from Peeta, still breathing heavily but lucky for me no other tears have fallen otherwise I'm sure he would have run to me, embracing me and holding me close. Do I want that?
No; I can't feel this, not when I'm supposed to kill him. Not after what happened to my mother with love. That's what's going through my mind at this very moment and preventing me from hearing or speaking. I can hear my father laughing, my mother crying, Prim calling out over my voice shouting "Daddy!" and the mayor relaying what he said when I collected the medal for my father.
My chest feels heavy, but I don't know what to do. I can still see Peeta in front of me still saying something but it's in audible to me. Until I see my father's face in my mind and he says "Katniss." The voice is all wrong! It's not his voice...its Peeta's.
It hits me that he's calling out my name but quietly enough as to not to wake anyone.
"Katniss."
Reality floods back to me and I can feel a light cool breeze on my face especially where the tear made its trail. I still can't move but I think Peeta knows that as he steps towards me, smiling softly. I'm sure I must look so confused right now because my eyes don't know where to focus.
As Peeta reaches me, he places his hands on my shoulders and stares into my eyes almost as if he's searching for me in my soul and checking if I'm ok. I'm settling now he's in my proximity but my heart is pounding in my chest as he holds my gaze and I can't avert it, I'm sure if it beats any harder it's going to burst out of my ribs.
He pulls his soft smile back on to his face and pulls me into his arms, hugging me tightly. I have no idea what's going on except his hug feels like a lifeline and I cling to it; I cling to him as tightly as I can without hurting him.
He presses his lips to the side of my head and kisses my hair. My father used that to me and it only causes my breath to hitch and for me to hold to him more tightly like trying to hold my father here. I can hear Peeta's breathing, which has increased as well as mine, and I can feel him smiling. In a normal situation I would have pulled away from the hug a long time ago but more so right now as I don't know what the smile is for.
I worry that it's because I've let my guard down and he knows that he's found away into me to keep himself alive near me when we enter the arena but, something tells me that it's nothing to do with that at all.
When we finally separate, he's still wearing his smile and I can see that it really was nothing to do with my guard. It's a comforting smile that sits so perfectly on his face and stays there as he takes my hand and leads me to the barrier on the edge of the roof, where he was stood before.
I follow his lead without question and stand at his side, looking out in to yonder of the Capital. If you push aside the fact that practically everything here is artificial and that they amazing, twinkling lights are celebrating us and the fact we're going to fight to the death tomorrow, it really is beautiful. We stay like this for a few minutes, when Peeta turns and sits on the floor with his back to the wall.
I glance down at him, my expression unchanged, and then I follow his suit. He smiles at me once more but more widely this time and finally; I return his smile. It's not exactly genuine but it's something to say thank you for what he just did for me without verbally having too. It's easier to do so this way although I want to say the words but I feel if I open my mouth, I'll cry. I don't understand why.
"You can't sleep either?" Peeta questions.
I shake my head and wrap my arms around my legs, breathing in slowly trying to calm something in me that wants me to break down but also trying to stop my heart beating as fast as it is. Should I be dead with the speed its going?
He stares at me, trying to figure out what's going through my mind and shows he comes up short of a conclusion when he asks "Is everything ok?"
Is he serious? We're probably going to die in a matter of hours, my mother and Prim will starve to death or die of depression or overdose on my mother's medications, I'll never see any of my friends again and I'm going to die trapped, alone, painfully and unloved and he asks if everything is ok!
"You're not unloved and you're never alone." Peeta states.
It is at this moment that I realise I've spoken my thoughts aloud at him. It doesn't matter how I said it, it will have been harsh.
"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to say that." I mumble.
"It's ok. It was a pretty stupid question all things considering." Peeta laughs lightly, managing to draw a small smile on my face.
I study the floor as I feel his eyes on me now looking for something but I don't know what. This silence isn't awkward or deafening like before but it seems right, just a moment for me to register what he had responded to me with.
"What did you mean?" I ask.
"What?" he looks confused.
"You said I'm not unloved and I'm never alone. What do you mean by that?" I say.
"Oh that. I mean that if you keep those dear to you in your heart, they're always with you somehow and although you can't see them physically, you can feel that they're there for you; always. And how can you be unloved after the way the district responded to your volunteering?" Peeta begun.
I still didn't understand why they did what they did since some of them didn't know me at all, but I do wonder if they knew Prim or my mother and it was for their loss of me. It was strange but comforting.
"Plus, Katniss, your family loves you so much. Look at the way Prim tried to reach you and cling to you to stay with her."
The mentioning of my family and love makes my eyes sting but I don't want my tears to fall. I'm supposed to be the emotionally strong one, not Peeta. Maybe that's why he cried at the start, to make sure that it would all be out of his system by now. I have to hand it to him, although he doesn't look like the brightest crayon in the box, he's wise with his words and knows more than you can predict.
My eyes once more find elsewhere to look than at Peeta as another solitary tear falls. The water seems loud as it hits the floor. Peeta is on his knees at the side of me clasping my hand in his own in a flash, like he knows that I want to be strong.
My father always wanted me to be strong too and when he died I swore to myself that I'd be that big strong girl he always knew and took hunting in the forest. I had to be her, but not just for my sake but for Prim too. Everything seems too much as I see what I could hear in my head as I stepped onto the roof earlier.
My dad crouching down, his hand on my shoulder, smiling at me calling me his "Big brave girl"; this was the day I'd tripped over the few steps into the house and grazed all my leg and did my best not cry.
More images of him flash in front of my eyes, him laughing and playing with me in the forest, dancing with my mother and Prim and the last time I saw him walk out of the door to go to work; the worst day of our lives. Now I'm collecting the medal meant for my father and his service to the district looking at my family's tear wet faces.
My eye's can no longer hold back the water and as I blink, it falls silently down my face but I can hear every drop that falls. I feel a hand on my face and when I blink again, causing more tears to fall, I see Peeta before me and all the memories have gone. I know I want to be the strong one but I know if I don't let this out now, it could get me killed in the arena or worse, I could break down on camera and have to live with people seeing someone weak if I survived so I let my tears flow.
Peeta pulls me into his chest, where I burry my face wetting his shirt, but I make no noise. I don't see the need to make any noise as I cry against him; he is the only person that needs to know that I can leave my guard down and to see me cry. Perhaps I feel this because every time he's near me my heart beats faster than I've ever known.
He hushes me and rocks me lightly, doing what he can to comfort me as if I was a small child but I don't mind. I squeeze my eyes as tight shut as I can manage and pull myself closer to him trying to stop myself from crying but showing that I don't want him to let me go.
Then next thing I know, he's lifting me and sitting me across his lap, leaving my arms around his neck and my face still in his shirt.
"I meant what I said you know Katniss, in the interview," he starts as I settle down a little, "I wasn't trying to make you look weak at all, just hopefully keep you alive a little bit longer. I know the audience will do anything to keep tributes alive if they're going to create an exciting love story. I really do love you."
Love; that word seems to be everywhere tonight although this time, I'm glad it has come about. I look up at Peeta to find him smiling down sweetly at me.
"I'm sorry...for all this. I'm sorry for hurting you hands earlier." I say looking at one of his bandaged hands.
"It's ok, I can see the reasoning behind it." Peeta replies.
"No Peeta, it's not," I state a little irritated that he would just let it go, "I shouldn't have done it. Not with the games just around the corner and not with the false reason I gave."
"Katniss, I don't want to think about the games right now...false reason?" Peeta speaks, confused.
I nod lightly and place my head on his chest, listening to his heart beat. It's almost as fast as mine.
"I didn't do it entirely because I thought you made me look weak but because I didn't want to look desirable to everyone. I did it out of anger and confusion hoping that I could shake out a feeling I had. I didn't want you to feel that way about me not with what we have to do." I explain.
I lift my head off his chest and look up at him once more, to see him still looking down at me, his smile on his face.
"Peeta, I haven't felt this as long as you have but I know that it's real. I think I..." I try to finish
Peeta cuts me off saying "I know Katniss, I know."
With that he leans his head down and gently presses his lips against mine. In my vulnerable position against his strong one, we must have looked like a typical movie couple, kissing before we die however, our story has a twist.
We have to kill each other and this could be our first and last ever kiss.
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I suppose for my first Hunger Games fanfiction, this ain't none too shabby if I do say so myself.
I'm taking the book and the film and pressing it with my mind to see what I come out with and this just happens to be it. At least it is so far.
I'm half way through reading Catching Fire now and I know there is a lot of information I've twisted and or dropped out in my story but have a little faith, I know what I'm doing!
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I do apologise for any mistakes I've made in my writing since spelling isn't my strong point and my ordering can be incorrect too.
As for phrases I might come out with, I'm English! So sorry again! I have the Capital accent don't I?
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For those of you who know me on here you will know how my reviews work but for you lovelies who don't know me, I am Trixabella Pixximist and I shall explain it to you now!
I do ask you to please review and let me know what you thought what you would think will happen and all that jazz but I like to think I'm different on how I do this part.
I reply to everyone accounted and unaccounted. All accounted reviews will be replied to as soon as possible and unaccounted are done down here at the end of the next chapter or a chapter of its own if I've written the last chapter however unaccounted replies will only be done to the last chapter written.
I do welcome flames since they toast my marshmallows (:
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I might carry this story on actually...maybe it depends on what you all think.
Again those that know me know how smutty I can get and that THOSE scenes end up intense when done and I'm considering whether or not I should put one in this story if I carry it on.
Well that's all for now!
Trixabella Pixximist - x