Hunger Games Fanfiction

Peeta P.O.V

I woke up to the smell of freshly baked bread wafting around my room, I was sweating. The ovens in the bakery beneath me plus the driest and hottest summer we have had in years made my covers stick to my skin. I crawled out of bed scanning the room for a clean top; I picked up the pyjama shirt and quickly pulled it over my head. It was way too small and dark to be mine, I sighed it was definitely Rye's. Rye was my older brother and a twin to Grayn, technically step brother. Where I was average in height and slightly muscular, they tower over me and are skinny as well. It doesn't take much to notice that were not blood related, I mean come on. In this family I stick out like a sore thumb. A child from my Dads previous marriage and a pain in the ass to my new "Mother", I utter the word as I look at myself in the mirror. The word still felt foreign, I tried to accept her but never could, especially when she looks at me as though I am worthless. Less than worthless, mere shit. That's it, out of place. I feel completely out of place.

I grab another shirt and put it on sniffing the fabric to make sure it's ok. It was slightly musty but not overpowering; I could get another day out of it at best. I look at myself in the mirror. I couldn't help but notice the flaws that crept into my mind. How I wish to be taller, muscular, that slightly more appealing. The only thing I found redeeming was my hair and eyes, they stood out, split me apart from the rest of my family. Blue and blonde to the brown and black.

I revelled in silence just that bit longer, until the door swung open and I was harshly brought back to reality. There in the doorway stood "Mother" followed closely by Rye. She scowled glaring at me with those narrow calculating eyes "Glad to see your awake" her indignant tone begged to differ "make yourself useful and help him carry the sacks." She flicked her wrist to punctuate her sentence, by him she meant Dad; I seriously had no idea what he had seen in her. He says he wanted me to have a "mother" figure in my life, there's that revolting word again, I don't know how many times I have to repeat it but bile is already rising in my throat. But she resembled more monster than maternal. Before she walked down the steps back into the bakery I shouted "Can I get some breakfast first?" I wasn't really asking but I knew she liked to feel as though she controlled every aspect of my life. I might make this day I bit easier by appeasing the bitch. She stopped the creak of the wooden floor coming to a sudden halt. I waited for her answer..."Fine" she muttered not even trying to hide her reluctance.

Once I heard the shop bell ring, I could let out a long sigh, hopefully for the rest of the day she would be preoccupied with dealing with customers and not come to bother me. I walked out of my bedroom and onto the landing. Rye was waiting for me, he was the friendliest no not friendly, polite. Yeah the most polite twin, actually able to grasp the normal social graces of family life. "Hello, Good morning" his voice was completely monotone, I nodded in recognition, the conversation ended as soon as it begun "goodbye". All I could do was stare at his back as he rushed back to Helena (please don't make me repeat "Mother" again). I know I just sighed but I had to do it again, this wasn't a family it was more like, like a gathering a people who help each other out to survive. Sadly, the only word that comes to mind is colony. A colony of ants. Helen as our Queen. Ruling through fear and the child's obligation to their "Mother" (for God sake I hate that word).

I head to the bathroom, the prospect of a warm shower immediately cheering me up. You can't beat warm water running down your skin to make you feel refreshed in a humid morning like this one. I turn on the water. You can practically hear it working its way through the rusty pipes. There was a hollow rattle before a trickle turned into a gushing jet of pure cold. I held my hand underneath the stream, waiting for the cold to turn hot. As I child I remember that I used to believe that I thought my hand changed the temperature of the water like magic. I started grinning like a fool, how naive I was. I stripped off. I opened the window to stop the room from steaming, I checked the clock on the wall it was 10:45 normally she didn't like anyone getting showered after 10:30. This would have to be quick.

I stepped into the warm cascade, the amazing feeling of cleanliness and bliss creeping through my entire body. I couldn't help but let my hands roam, imagining that another person was touching me, a beautiful man. Uh um I mean woman, blue eyes just like myself. It, he, she had blonde hair softer and purer than mine. I grabbed in-between my legs stroking over and over the euphoric feel of ecstasy tugging a groan out of my body. The bliss was only short. I stopped panting; my shoulders slumped over in exhaustion. Looking up at the wall, the white tiles they almost had a clinical feel to them no patterns, no pictures. Ironic really I always felt like a tumour to this family. A life sucking, soul destroying tumour. I scrubbed myself and stepped out the shower. I dried quickly in the summer heat that circulated in the room from the window.

I made my way downstairs, as my feet touched the floor of the hallway. She bolted out from the shop front and made a bee line from where I was perched on the bottom step putting my shoes on. She grabbed me by the collar of my shirt pushing me back against the stairs; I was propped up against my elbows to stop my head slamming against the steps behind me. She grabbed a lock of my hair twiddling it between her fingers "Well, thank you Princess Peeta for finishing pampering so early and coming into the presence of us peasants" I didn't even have to read between the lines her voice was laced with sarcasm although it was short lived "looks like you picked hygiene over hunger. You've missed your chance for breakfast, now hurry up and start working." She practically threw me against the banister, a small wince of pain escaping from my pursed lips. She walked back to her work, not before I could spot the smirk (at my pain I presume) in the reflection of the door's window pane. Such a bitch.

I wandered into the kitchen pulling the apron straps around my neck and tying them around my waist. I went over to the work bench, cracking my knuckles knowing that a long day of kneading was ahead of me. I grabbed the fresh batch of dough, and started to work my hands repeatedly through the stretchy substance. Half way through taking out my anger on the mess that clung to my fingers Dad walked in. Ever since he married she-devil his personality was more reserved, I placed my hands jolting him out of his haze. His hair had become wild and uncontrolled, so much that his eyes were barely visible behind the scruff that hung over his face. He still managed to smile but only barely.