AUTHORS NOTE: This is my first story. I know the first chapter is really short. Hopefully they will get longer. It would be really nice if you reveiw.
DISCLAIMER: Sadly, I don't own the Hunger Games. It's not like someone thinks I do or anything. Everybody knows it belongs to Suzanne Collins.(lucky)
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Peeta extend his hand. I look at him, unsure. "One more time? For the audience?" he says. His voice isn't angry. It's hollow, which is worse. Already the boy with the bread is slipping away from me.
I take his hand, holding on tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment when I will finally have to let go.
I give Peeta's hand what I hope to be a reassuring squeeze, but his face just grows paler. I feel liking crying, running to my room like I did when I was little. But I can't. I won the Hunger Games. I won. And so did Peeta. I still can't wrap my mind around the fact that out of twenty-four kids, only Peeta and I are still alive. It still makes me furious that the Capitol makes children fight to the death against each other. Especially Rue, poor little Rue. I try my best not to think about because every time I do, I feel horrible inside.
I once more look up at Peeta. He is hurt and all because of me. I fight back a sob. I am losing him, the boy with the bread. I cannot live without him and already he is leaving me. Peeta always has been my support during the games. I may have kept him alive physically, but he is the one who kept me alive mentally through it all, which I believe is much more important. And how am I repaying him? By tearing him apart, one piece at a time.
Why, oh, why am I still alive? I do not deserve to be. I am one of the ruthless, cruelest people ever. Peeta is not though. He is pure good. How can someone so caring and nice have any feelings towards me? He loves me, and I am horrible for letting him believe I loved him back, which I still do, somehow. I do not know how I feel about Peeta. I'm too confused and tangled up inside to sort out my feelings now.
The train coming to stop is what takes me back to the cold, painful world of reality, though my thoughts are not much better. "Smile," Peeta says hollowly. "We have to make them believe this." There is so much pain behind these words, I feel like hitting myself. My fault, I think, all my fault. Why did I lie to him? I know why I did, to keep both of us alive. But the games are over. Now what was I going to do? I have absolutely no idea.
The train doors click, signaling that they will be opening. The train once more pulls me out of my horrible thoughts. I put on a huge grin and give it my best shot.
The doors slide open and I think what a huge fool I am. Nobody is going to believe this! Not when I feel like I am being ripped up inside! How can I pretend to be happy when I am not?
But then I see something that makes me think twice about my last thought. I see the reason I even fought in the Hunger Games. The reason I didn't just give up and die, though it would have been easier. Prim! I let go of Peeta's hand, which I am holding on to very tightly, and run to her. Even though there is only twenty feet of distance between us, it feels like miles. But when I finally reach her, I know coming back is worth it, just to see her again. I hug Prim, not wanting her to leave me ever again. My mother follows quickly behind her. She kisses me and rubs my hair; all the while telling me how much she wanted me to come home.
I finally let go of Prim and see that Peeta is by his family, but only his father and brothers are happy to see him. The witch of a mother just nods to him, and looks smug to whoever passes by, which happens a lot since all of District 12 is here. She is acting that way since she is going to live in Victor's Village. The only good thing to her about her son's safe returning is the publicity. Figures.
Then I hear a voice behind me. "Good job, Catnip." The voice is hoarse almost beyond recognition, but that does not affect my judgment. I automatically know who the voice belongs to and immediately turn around and throw my arms around him.
"Gale, I missed you so much!" I say. Some people think something else should be said instead of just six words; but Gale knows I don't like all that extra junk people throw in just to express feelings. I am more of an "actions speak louder than words" kind of person.
Which reminds me of how mad the Capitol is at me right now and how my actions caused that, but I can't think of that. This is my night. No one is going to ruin it. The Capitol is not going to harm me, not yet at least.
Cliff-hanger, a really bad one though.