Author's Note: I hope you enjoy this first chapter. It's fairly short, but I feel like it encompasses Katniss's guilt and unsteady mental state well, along with Peeta's love for her even in her weak moments. All Hunger Games characters/ideas belongs to Suzanne Collins. Thank you for your interest!

His arm slides against the wood of the table, landing close to mine. I lift my hand out from under the table and grasp his, offering a slight smile. I have an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach. This is a day like any other day, except for one small detail. Peeta and I are getting married today. I hold his hand tightly, afraid that if I let go, I will pass out.

I'm nervous not because I'm unsure of my decision to marry him, but because today my love for him becomes legally official. Today is the day I go against the words I said to Gale, the ones that told him I never wanted to marry anyone, never wanted to have children. At least I will stay true to that last part. Besides, since when have I been a trustworthy individual? I'm fairly sure anyone's trust in my actions and words diminished the second my arrow struck Coin in the heart.

That's when I make my decision.

I let go of Peeta's hand, I brush my fallen hair back behind my ears, and I feel my expression turn to stone.

He looks at me, concerned. He is worried about me, as he seems to always be. The look on my face does not change, and I don't dare utter a word to his pleading eyes. Instead, I pick up my plate that holds the barely touched breakfast that Peeta made this morning, and stand up. The walk to the sink seems to take hours, and those hours feel even more tedious when I hear the sound of metal make contact with the wooden floor. I know that sound well, and I always will. It is the noise of Peeta's prosthetic leg.

The fact that I am hearing it right now is enough to almost make me shatter, but I know that has to wait.

If I had done better, if I had been with him and made sure he was okay during the games, he wouldn't be missing a leg. If I had made Peeta kill me, if I had eaten the berries without him knowing, he would've won. The war would not have happened. He would've found a girl who could cater to his every need, who could love and support him the way he deserves. His family wouldn't be dead. Prim wouldn't be dead. Prim would be with me, but she's dead. They're all dead because of me. There is no way I deserve Peeta's love after what I have done.

I will do everything in my power to make sure Peeta ends up with someone worth more than a wretched monster such as myself.

His hands find my shoulders and my body goes stiff. "Katniss?"

When the last syllable of my name leaves his lips, the plate escapes my grip. That name belongs to someone too horrible to be cared about by someone as good and kind as Peeta Mellark. It is a name that should never have a place in his mind, much less have a place on his tongue. It has no place, it belongs no where, and should only be uttered as an accusation, nothing else.

The plate hits the floor and shatters into hundreds of pieces, just as I will once I get out of this house.

I must get out of this house.

When he says my name again, his hands still resting upon my shoulders, I take a deep breath and make a beeline for the door.

Once the soles of my feet hit the wet gravel surrounding every house in the Victors' Village, I run as fast as I possibly can. I run to the woods, tromping down every bit of foliage beneath me with my quiet pounding footsteps. I run to a dead tree, one that has been killed in the fire, and plant myself against it. I fall to my knees and sob as silently as I can manage. My heart is racing as the tears slide down my cheeks and hit the bed of pine needles I'm sitting on.

After several minutes, I take a heavy breath and stand, spotting a large patch of blackberries about twenty feet away. I am reminded of the days I spent with my father in the meadow, tromping around, carefree and content with life. I would occasionally scratch myself on a thorny blackberry vine, and soon they became known to me as a quite painful nuisance.

I step out of my pants, leaving my legs completely bare, and walk towards them. I deserve any pain that I can inflict on myself, so I walk closer. Closer. Closer, until the thorns are breaking through the skin on the bottoms of my feet. I wince, more tears fall, and continue. I keep repeating three words in my head. I deserve this. I deserve this. I deserve this.

The patch doesn't end. Instead, it grows higher, engulfing more of my body, thorns sticking themselves into the outer layer of my skin. My shirt starts to catch, the patch just above my hips now. I slip out of that, too, and walk deeper. The pain is searing throughout my body, and I grimace. I am a mess. But I deserve this. If I had any sort of weapon with me, I would simply kill myself. Instead, I let the hundreds of little spears poke me, stick me, and slice me. No one will find me here. I will stay here until I starve, until I have endured the torture I so deserve. I'm doing this for Rue, I am doing this for Prim, I am doing this for Peeta, his family, and anyone who has been killed during this horrid fight between myself and the Capitol. Their deaths are my fault, and I will suffer dearly for it. After all, my life at this point is worth nothing.

I am fully aware that today I was supposed to become the wife of Peeta Mellark. I was supposed to be stepping into a wedding dress, not into a gnarly patch of thorns. I am supposed to be smiling and laughing, not grimacing and sobbing. What a coward I am. Me, a woman who is to blame for the death of hundreds, expected happiness and a normal life. What a withering coward I am.

I grab two handfuls of vines and squeeze, the thorns puncturing holes in the cold palms of my hands. I open my hand, and notice that I am still attached the the plants. So I move deeper into the blackberries, letting the thorns rip themselves out of my flesh. Finally, the vines reach a height that swallows me almost completely, and I sink to the ground, wishing that the plants would do more damage than they are to my blood covered body. With my head in my hands, I sob. Ugly wet sobs rack my body until I sprawl out on the cold ground due to sheer exhaustion. My last thought before I slip into unconsciousness is to wonder whether the ground is wet from rain or if I am simply lying in a bed of my own blood and tears.

When I awake that night from a nightmare, I find myself sweating and screaming Peeta's name. The nightmare leaves just as fast as it came, and I can't remember what happened. All I am is worried. Worried that someone has heard me, and will care to come to me. To rescue the one who killed so many.

Soon enough, my worries play out before me when I hear my name being shouted from afar.

Peeta. It's Peeta. Who else could it be? When I attempt to sit up and get away, to hide from the man who so mistakenly loves me, I realize how much pain I have caused myself, and I smile. My skin is smeared in blood and sweat, and I am sore from head to toe. Every time I touch a part of my body, the thorns that are stuck dig deeper into both my damaged and undamaged flesh, leaving me miserable and thankful. I stand up, with a pleased but pained look on my face, and run. I run wherever my feet take me, and when the vines get thick, I crawl and rip them out of the way with my hands. I surge of new energy shoots through me every time I think I've hit my breaking point, as I know I deserve this misery. I only stop when I realize I left my pants at the edge of the patch. He will find me, no matter how far I run. The only choices I have are to run in, or to run out. He will find me either way.

So I fall to my knees again, and wrap my arms around my knees, turned away from the direction I entered from. I rock back and forth, my eyes wide, breathing in and out. I have hit a low point, and I won't be able to get out of it, I am sure. I won't be able to let Peeta love me again, at least not more than I can help. He needs someone better than me, but he won't ever realize it. I know I need him, I know I am madly in love with him, but that does not matter. I am sure many of my victims knew love, but I was selfish enough to tear that away from them, along with their lives. I do not deserve love.

The moment I hear a breath of what I assume is relief for the wrong reasons, I jump and scream. I was so caught up in my thoughts that not even Peeta's careless footsteps could enter my eardrums. I am going insane.

"Katniss, what happened to you? Who hurt you?" He says, panicked. His rushes over to me and kneels down in front of me.

I stare at him and keep rocking. My eyes are wide, but I can feel tears falling from them now.

"Katniss, what is wrong? Say something, please."

I realize he can't see what a mess I am in this darkness. He switched his flashlight off about ten feet away, and ran the rest of the way in darkness. He turns his flashlight on again, unsure of what to do with me when I don't answer him. He points it at my legs, not directly at my face so that he doesn't hurt my eyes, and his expression changes as soon as he does. He's shocked, and then angry. His pupils dilate to such an extent that they seem to encompass his bright blue irises.

"Peeta?" I say, ready for him to kill me. I've only seen this look so severe in his eyes once before. I saw it when his face was inches from mine, and his hands were choking the life out of me. That is something I would welcome from him at this moment.

His pupils get smaller, then bigger, then smaller. They fluctuate this way several times while staring fiercely into mine before Peeta turns around, his fists clenched, and crouches down. He's trying his best not to harm me. I'm not okay with that. This is my chance to be killed by someone who has every right to do so.

"Peeta, come here." I say, strongly.

"Mutt..." I hear him whisper under his breath.

"That's right. Kill me. I'm a mutt, I'm a monster. Kill me, Peeta." I tell him, trying to let every word roll off of my tongue clearly, with an almost taunting tone.

"No, no, no..."

"Yes! Peeta, kill me, please! You deserve so much more than a monster like me." My strength is slipping. This is hurting him. Even when I try to help him, I hurt him.

He cups his face in his hands and breaths in and out. He's coming out of it, it didn't work. "Did I hurt you?" He asks, meekly.

I sigh in defeat. "Peeta, please kill me. Please, I have hurt so many people. Just do it, I beg you."

He runs over to me so quickly that I almost think the flashback isn't over, and puts his hands on both of my cheeks.

"Don't do this. Don't let go of yourself, Katniss." Only now, with his face this close to mine, do I notice the tears spilling out of his strained eyes.

"You can't love me. Peeta, please go. Find someone worthy of you."

"I already have." His face stiffens, slightly. "Don't you dare make me lose you, too. That is something I could never forgive you for."

I don't respond. I breathe in through my teeth and saliva, tears threatening my eyes. I am in pain, and I am sure I am not doing a great job of hiding it. I look down in defeat, and launch my body onto his. He smells of something sweet, muffins or something of the like. I'm too tired to tell. I cry and cry, and he simply holds me, rocking me back and forth. He's crying too, and it hurts me so terribly to know that I am the sole cause of his tears.

Whether or not I think he deserves to be burdened with my existence, I am the only person left in this world who he loves. Out of all the selfish acts I've committed, taking my life would be the most selfish. Peeta needs me, and for as long as I am alive, I will need him. I will live for him. I will live for Peeta in hopes that I can make something up to him, repay him at least a little. If that is what he desires, then so be it. He is so unfortunate to be in love with me. Life has not been fair to him.

I slip into unconsciousness with his arms around me, the result of pain and exhaustion.

If living is what I have to do to keep the look of hope and happiness thriving in his beautiful eyes, then I will do it. With his arms around me, I can and will do it.

Gladly.