Peeta's Hunger Games

by FireBurnsBrighter

May the odds be ever in your favour. This is the Hunger Games from Peeta's Point Of View. We have all wondered what went on when Peeta wasn't there, now we know. What was he thinking during every conversation, every move? Do we know him as well as we think? Exact same story line as original series, no changes, just how I think things would have been from Peeta's end of the stick.

1. Chapter 1

A/N; So, my first Fanfiction. I hope it goes well. Im a massive nerdy fan of The Hunger Games, so I really want to do this justice, but please tell me if you think i'm doing something wrong. I am actually writing this holed up in my bedroom like a hobbit, as I am actually quite nervous about posting this. Also, I would like to say that I am going to do this full length, so I will write chapters which are not in the book as Katniss is not in them. It may be very long. Hope you like it! :D

Disclaimer; I do not own The Hunger Games, they belong to the genius we call Suzanne Collins. I also do not own Peeta Mellark, unfortunately, as the common belief is that he is not real, though I am currently working on disproving that theory.

---

PART I

THE TRIBUTES

When I wake up, it is not to the smell of baking bread that I am used to. I pull back the blanket and expose myself to the cold air. It is strangely silent outside, and there is a feeling of dread hanging over the District like a black cloud. Of course there is. This is the day of the reaping.

I wash my face at the rusted sink and look at my reflection in the small mirror as I comb my hair. I look tired, tormented, but that is hardly unbelievable. I go downstairs and find my whole family sitting at our old wooden table. I sit down and am presented with a two-day-old seeded bun spread with a thin layer of cheese and a glass of milk that doesn't look entirely healthy, but I drink and eat them anyway, because it could be the last thing I ever eat with my family.

I get up to try and find something to wear, but my father stops me and points to a crisp set of clothes on the back of our old rocking chair. The trousers and shirt look like my brother's old but clean cast-offs, but the shoes look shiny and new. I look at my family with a tight smile. They shouldn't have wasted their money on new shoes, not for this occasion.

Though we don't have to be in the square until 2 o'clock, it would have been impossible to get back to sleep, so I get dressed and sit around, watching the old clock ticking down the minutes.

At half past one, we get up and walk to the square in silence, as so many other families around us are doing. I see Katniss with her mother, and notice that they are both holding tightly onto Prim, who looks like she thinks she might be ripped away from them at any moment.

I look at Katniss, how many times is her name in there? Ten times, twenty, thirty? It almost distracts me from the fear, but I realize that I am being selfish. I have never had to take out tesserae, my name is only there 5 times. I try not to be selfish, but as soon as we are registered and huddled into the waiting areas, it is all I can possible think about.

All to soon, the anthem of Panem is playing, signaling the end of the film, and the pink wigged lady named Effie is teetering up to the glass reaping balls on her ridiculously high Capitol heels. She looks annoyed at the fact that she has had to avoid Haymitch, but she quickly plasters on the biggest fake smile I have ever seen, as if smiling will some how ease the tension. As if.

She moves to the ball that contains the girl's names, and thrusts her hand in. She eventually picks out a piece of paper and reads of the name. All I can hope is that its not her. It can't be.

And it isn't.

'Primrose Everdeen.'