Oh hello everyone. I've been on hiatus for awhile but I'm back with the sequel to Rebuilding (I always hated that name). If you haven't read that story than I think you'll be okay with reading this. Only okay, it still may be super confusing and so I highly recommend you read Rebuilding. Not 100% sure. And I'm also not sure whether to put this under Katniss/Peeta or their children, even though it's technically the children's POV. I`ll do Katniss/Peeta for now, and might decide to change it later. Updates will be every two weeks (about). Enjoy.

I hate this. I hate the games. I hate everything.

My mother says it`s not good to hate, but I do. I hate what the world has done to them, is still doing to them. It`s beyond cruel and unfair and it angers me so much sometimes that I can`t see straight.

I`ve stopped asking mom to do my hair now. If I`m old enough to get reaped then I`m old enough to tie my own hair. I take an early morning bath and force a brush through my wet curls, demanding that they lie flat. They do a little but not as much as I want, but at least it`s better than trying to brush them when they`re dry. I sigh heavily on the edge of my bathtub, and rub my hands along the porcelain surface. I remember them telling me that bath water was sparse and shared by their entire family once a week, and here I am, a life of luxury. It makes me angry and I rush so that I don`t make it too dirty. Since I`ve learned the significance of baths I`ve insisted on giving Ash`s his every morning. I work as fast as I can so I`ll only have to add a little bit of hot water so that it`s warm for him. No point in wasting good water.

Mom of course refused at first but she doesn`t seem to mind anymore. Dad goes to the bakery very early and now mom can go hunting at the same time. They`re both back to make and serve breakfast and I can get Ash ready for the day. I like this routine, it makes me feel responsible, like I can do something to help my parents. They deserve it.

Ash is five now and he`s so well-mannered that I`m pretty sure I could pick him up by his ears and he still wouldn`t complain. So giving him his bath is easy, it`s more about waking him up.

He starts school today, and I know he`s really nervous. So this might actually be difficult for once. I almost forget my own fears over starting secondary school. Almost.

There are only two types of school in District 12, which is mostly due to the small population. Elementary school is for ages five to eleven, while secondary school is for twelve to eighteen. First year of secondary school is when we start learning history. It would be better (cheaper) for the district if all ages were just in the same school, but I guess they want to try and stop older students from slipping up once they learn the history.

I get out of the bath and I quickly braid my hair in the familiar pattern and it stays together well enough when it`s wet. I look in the mirror and remind myself that this is what the daughter of veterans look like. The soft cheekbones, blue eyes and curls are the only semblance that I am my father`s daughter, everything else is Katniss right down to the braid. I know other students will look at me, even point, but I steel myself; if my Aunt Prim can be a war nurse than I can make it through a day of blank stares.

I used to compare myself to my parents but they refused saying that they were older and that all experiences are hard, other people having different ones doesn`t mean that mine aren`t significant. So I secretly compare my resolve to Aunt Prim, she would`ve been around the same age.

I walk over to his bedroom and I see Asher under his blankets, lying flat on his stomach with fingers and toes peeking out the edge of his bed. I used to sleep like that, but now I wrap myself up tight, not allowing a single limb to ease out of the covers.

I shake him lightly and he mumbles something, I`m not sure what. I decide to just pick him up and he nestles him head under my chin as we walk to the bathroom. I strip his clothes off and put him in the warm water, and he seems to perk up a bit. I get the soap and get to work washing his golden curls. I wish I had them, but I also fear that I`d look too much like my aunt Prim, even though her hair was straight.

Ash starts playing with one of the boats I plopped in earlier. He`s so innocent, he doesn`t know, and he`ll have to learn someday. I hate that. Why do bad things always happen to good people?

Ash whimpers a little and I realize that I`ve grabbed his head too roughly. I coo at him in apology and kiss his soapy forehead. That placates him, not that it would`ve taken much.

I rinse him off before taking him out of the tub and patting him dry lightly. He attempts to help but mostly just slows down the process. He walks back quickly to his bedroom stark naked which never fails to make me laugh. This routine is comforting, but I know it will change. He won`t be a baby for much longer, and I might be fine with seeing him naked now, but I definitely won`t be in a few years. I wish he could be a baby forever and stay young and naïve. It`d be a better, happier life. Well, at least I think so.

I hear mom coming in through the front door and I know dad will be here soon. I rush to get Ash dressed and ready for the day, trying to brush his curls down a little as well.

I look into the mirror one last time with Ash in my arms. I change my mind. We are not the children of veterans. We are the children of survivors.

So I hoped you all enjoyed this. I liked writing it. More chapters to come. Mostly revolved around Lily, and some Ash. A lot to do with school and history and how the district has and hasn`t changed. Please read and review if you like. It`s not too confusing yet if you haven`t read Rebuilding, but it might get confusing later. I`m not totally sure to tell you the truth. Have a good week!

Sincerely,

BeWho