Summary : Everybody knows the story of The Princess and The Pauper. What if the pauper was a male, more specifically, Peeta? PxK. Princess and The Pauper with a twist. AU. Rated T for swearing.
Disclaimer : I do not own The Hunger Games or The Princess and The Pauper.
The Princess and The Pauper
.
.
.
Prologue
.
.
.
Written by Whimsically Nightlock
Peeta Mellark
"Fucking bastard! Bloody Hell, why can't you do anything right?!" the woman shrieks as she strikes her hand across his face.
He gasps in shock as her hand comes in contact with his face. She has never hit her there. Never.
No matter how much he has fucked up, she had never dared to lay a finger on his face, afraid someone might notice if there was a bruise, or a scar.
"I have endured enough of your shit! I am sick and tired of you! I found you on my doorstep, abandoned by some sick fuck! I want to throw you out, but what does Arabella say? No, she wanted me to keep you! Says you would have been a good use when you grow up! But you're just a mess! A big fucking mess! Get the fuck out of this place and think of what you've done! And don't come back 'till you're done, you clumsy son of a bitch!" the woman shoves him out.
Peeta slips on the ice, and falls, groaning.
It was true that he was clumsy. But it was difficult to walk with a prosthetic leg.
He had ended up with a prosthetic leg after getting into a car accident.
His adopted 'mother'; Anne, had to bear with the costly prices of the bills of his hospital fee, and she hadn't been happy. So once he had recovered, she made him do twice the usual work.
Peeta had never got used to using his leg much, thus, he usually ended up fucking up.
And that was when the abusing started.
Anne made him eat stale bread, threw insults at him from day 'till night, sent him out on long tedious errands, hit him and made him work almost 24/7.
Every day, Peeta kept his mouth shut. He never objected, for it would make Anne angry, and if she was angry, she would lash out on him.
He became her punching bag.
And as she was technically his mother, he couldn't do anything about it.
As he sighed, he clutched his thin coat to him.
Sometimes, even when he showed back up, Anne often kept him locked out until it was morning.
During these times, Peeta wished that he was in one of the houses, comfy and cozy, sitting by the fire, with a family... A real family, not like him and Anne; who beated the shit out of him.
He decided that he would have to stay out that night.
With a contented sigh, Peeta laid on a bench nearby, and it wasn't long until sleep overtook him.
Author's Note : I've been itching to write this. I know this is kind of short, but it'll be longer in the next chapter. I've already written the next chapter, so I'll probably be updating it this week.
My final-year examinations are over, so updates will be pretty frequent. Depends on my mood though, and if I'm free.
This chapter is dedicated to my awesome friend, Primavera05.You rock! (:
Hope you liked this chapter, and thanks for reading!
~Whimsically Nightlock