Chapter One
Nightmares. They come every night, sometimes even when I close my eyes or blink. Peeta says that it will be ok, that he is here to protect me. But sometimes in the middle of the night when my thrashing does not wake him up, I don't think I'll ever be ok again. They are almost all the same, switching between the arena and the tributes that I killed, their faces haunting my dreams, paralyzing me and filling my every ounce and fiber of my being with terror, remorse and regret. After a while their features begin to morph and transform into the snarling lizard mutts. Everything changes except for the eyes. Those eyes that bore into my soul asking that same question over and over again – Why? Why couldn't you save me too? – It makes for a weird combination as they rip my body limb from limb, and somehow all the more terrifying.
Finally after what seems like forever, I drift into the black abyss and my eyes close. Instead of darkness a small blonde head appears, starting far off and slowly drifting closer and closer until it is visible but still out of my grasp. I know who it is just by the way her hair falls into two neat braids on either side of her face. A small gust of wind blows and causes a few wisps of hair to fall on her forehead, framing her face and bringing out her startling blue eyes. Then just off in the distance a warm glow lights up, slowly getting brighter and brighter until I can feel the heat of the flame. The glow illuminates her face and hair, making her seem as if she was spun from gold. This doesn't last for long though, and soon I am in the courtyard of the Capitol as alert as ever. Frantic people dart around each other in colorful, bright, – and somewhat garish – clothing; trying to get away from an unseen foe. I know what happens next - I have been reliving this moment every day of my life for the past year – and I run towards the circle of kids opening parachutes that appear to my right. No matter how fast I run I never make it. The parachutes go off, raining fire and unrecognizable human parts everywhere. Off to my left a flash of blonde catches my eye. I know it is her; I know that it is Prim. Heart racing, lungs crying for oxygen I run toward her. "Prim no!" I yell with tears in my eyes. I am not sure if it is from the acrid smoke or from what I know will happen next: what always happens next. Silently she turns towards me, a glint of recognition flashing before her eyes. Her lips just start to form my name, but I know that her sweet voice will never reach them. There is a loud boom and the rest of the remaining parachutes explode. The shock wave knocks me on my back and the rest of the air that was in my lungs leave them. I lay there gasping for air, unable to think or feel anything other than one thought bouncing in my head, shaking me to my very core. You killed her… you killed her… you failed and now she is dead because of you… you killed her…
I wake up sweating and trembling with a scream trying to claw its way out of my throat. "Prim…" I whisper, and that's all I can get out before the sobs rack my body leaving me breathless and weak. Wringing my hands in ways that I didn't know were possible, I let the grief and guilt overcome me like a wave. It reaches into the depths of my sorrow and pain, bringing them to the surface fresh and new, causing me to choke on my own wails. When I am done crying I turn and look out my window, early morning light filters in through it, catching the dust particles and making them shine while they dance through the air. Still struggling to catch my breath I stare at the window a little while longer. I find it amazing how these little inanimate objects have such a better life than I do right now; dancing and twirling in the sunlight, unable to feel loss or sorrow, something I can't seem to avoid. Carefully I reach into my dresser drawer, my scarred hands searching for the parachute that I know is there. Grabbing the pearl that Peeta gave me I close my eyes and rub its cool, smooth surface between the palms of my rough yet clammy hands, trying to calm down my racing thoughts of guilt, sorrow and anger at myself. Footsteps sound off behind me, not quite soft but careful; like the sound of someone who was trying to be quiet but couldn't really. They stop in the doorway of my room.
Silently I take and shaky but deep breath and slip the pearl into my pocket, trying to sooth my still panicky heart. As I turn towards the door I know who I will see standing there; I was right. Peeta stands in the doorway leaning against the wood, arms crossed, showing off his muscular frame obtained from all those years of tossing hundred pound flour sacks over his head. There is a worried look on his face and his dirty blonde hair is slightly tousled, giving him an oddly attractive boyish look with a hint of confusion. The sight of this makes my heart skip a beat. Confused by this new feeling, I frown, making my already tight scarred skin sting a little bit. It still isn't completely healed from the time when I caught fire, the time that Prim— No shut up I told myself, you can't think about her right now, not with Peeta. But the thought only makes the grief surface again and I choke down a wail that seems determined to let itself be known. "Hey there Katniss." He says softly, coming to sit down with me on the edge of my bed. "I heard you crying from down in the kitchen. Did you have another nightmare?" he asks, his voice dripping with worry. "Y-yes" I stammer "but I am fine now." Based on the doubt-filled look that he gives me, I know that he doesn't believe it for one second. Instead of questioning me like any other person would do, he just nods his head, understanding. He stares at me for a while, his icy blue eyes soft with love. I find I like those eyes a lot better than the other hard, rage-filled eyes that take their place when he flashes back from the high-jacking that the Capitol did to him. His face softens, losing that worried look that I had become accustomed to and takes my hand in his. "Come on," he says, eyes twinkling "I made some bacon and eggs. But beware, it's my first time and the stove is different than the one I have at home. So feel free to puke afterwards if you need to!" I laugh, silently thanking him for not asking me about my dream and Prim, if he did I would have another breakdown and then he would be asking me if I was ok all day. As we walk down the narrow hall to the kitchen hand in hand my heart feels oddly light, as if it leapt out of my chest and started to float in the air. The pressure of his hand against mine, warm, callused and strong comforts me and I realize that this was the first time I have laughed in months. I shiver a little, not with fear or guilt, but with happiness. Peeta must have noticed, and he looks back and smiles at me. I hesitate a little but then I smile back too, and a little of the depression that I have been feeling for the past months lifts itself off of my shoulders, and flies off into the distance.
END OF CHAPTER ONE
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