The sun woke me from another hideous night of sleeping by myself. Nightmares have been more frequent recently since I heard Greasy Sae tell me that Peeta might be coming back to 12. All those feelings that I had had so long ago—the ones that I thought were lost forever—came back to me in a second, and before long I was escaping to the safety of the forest.

It's been about a year since I've returned home. Peeta had returned with me, but his flashbacks became too frequent for my safety…

But it wasn't me that told on him. Haymitch had walked in on one, one of the nastier ones that I had heard from the safety of my house. Peeta was throwing knives at his paintings, shouting incomprehensive things. It became worse when those pictures were of me and the Quarter Quell. Peeta was then sent to the ruined Capital for assistance, and hopefully better medication. From all I heard, which wasn't much, he wasn't coming back.

My feet can't help but make noise, kicking up leaves behind me. I'm not the quiet, agile hunter I once was. My shooting has become clumsy, my arrows striking animals through the legs or neck. I don't get much money for what I collect now, but it's not like I need more money than I have.

The lake remains the same. The places where Gale and I spent hours together look like it's only been a day since we last hunted together. I heard that Gale was getting married not too long ago. It didn't bother me for Gale to be getting married, but I missed him. If I had fallen for him, I wouldn't be alone today…

Peeta. That was the reason why I hadn't fallen for Gale. I learned to love Peeta more than I thought; I just never got the guts to tell him. And he left, and I was alone.

Maybe Peeta coming back to the district won't be bad. Maybe I'll be able to tell him how I feel, and then what—he'll have another flashback? The old me would be backing away from the idea of him coming back, but my hormones don't agree. I need him back; I need to tell him how I feel. I need to see his beautiful blue eyes and his sandy blonde hair. All I can hope for is that he still loves me, and that he's still willing to stay with me through the thick and thin.

I crouch down near the side of the lake, pulling my knees closer to my chest. I'm still so… broken. Would I even be worth fighting for in Peeta's eyes? If Gale could get over me that fast, why wouldn't Peeta be able to?

Tears fall down my cheeks, and I don't have the strength to be the big, strong-willed teenager I am and wipe them off. I'm weak. I'm vulnerable. If anyone sees that by now, they won't care.

"Don't think like that," I hear, but it's my dad's voice. I've been sent stronger medication for the concerns of my sanity, but I haven't taken them. When the package arrives at my front door I open it, take the pill box and chuck it across the living room. I wonder if they're still there.

"Why give up now?" He asks, and I shake my head.

"I'm hearing things," I whisper to myself, lifting my head up. The sun is just starting to set, and even if I leave for home right now, it'll be really dark out. In a way, I'm terrified of the darkness. I'm afraid that one day it'll overwhelm me and consume me out of the rest of my life. Why don't I just give in, then? I don't like my life, anyways.

"You may think you're hearing things, but you aren't. Everyone faces difficulties in their life, Katniss," my father says. "You have gotten by so much your whole life—if you can get past my death, then this shouldn't be a challenge."

My eyes desperately scan my surroundings, but I see nothing. I'm going crazy. "I'm still grieving," I growl, tears threatening to spill again. "I was forced to move on, and look where that's gotten me—Prim's dead and Mom can't even stand to be near me! I'm too much of a reminder of what she had!" I wish I could face him, to show him how much pain I'm in, but I can't. I'm helpless.

"Go back to your house, Katniss. Do it for me. The one thing I want for you is for you to be happy, and I'm going to make sure that that happens. Now go back to your house and go to sleep."

I would never do anything for anyone, but my dad was always my weak spot. He was my role model when I grew up, and when he died…

Standing, I nod towards the lake to show my father, or my imagination, that I respect his wish and jog towards my house. I was right—the sky is a dark blue, threatening to turn black, when I reach my front door.

My hand is turning the door knob when my father instructs, "Stay still,". I freeze. Whatever my father commanded me to do when I was younger I would do. There was no other option—not because he forced me to, but because I loved him. I trusted that he knew what was best for me.

My head suddenly turns to my left side, and I see a figure. My heartbeat erratically speeds up and my breath gets stuck in my throat. A familiar person I've known, and cried about, for so long stands beside me.

I barely manage to get out one word under my breath.

"Peeta."