Rated Adult for Sexual Situations and Brief Violence.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, ect. are property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

MIRRORED

My body collides with the ground and I have to grit my teeth to stop myself from yelling out when the sharp rocks beneath the snow bite into my skin. My fingers curl into the sludge that is now darkened by the coal dust and I can hear both of them breathing heavily behind me as they tower over me easily. I know that I'm outmatched and that each of them clearly has thirty pounds on me but I refuse to let them see me cry and I'll be damned if I back down.

I close my eyes as I'm hunched over on all fours and muster all of the strength, anger, and defiance I've held onto through the years.

With one last breath I push myself off of the frozen ground and turn on both of them with a shout, which surprises both girls, to give me enough of an advantage for a few seconds as I jump on one and send our bodies to the ground. I'm able to get a few good shots in and I can already see her nose bleeding before the other pulls me off. My legs kick wildly as I wail and I hardly recognize my own voice as I struggle against her grip.

The one I had pulled to the ground with me stands up as she spits blood into the snow and I smile at her discomfort as the blood continues to fall down her face. I try to prepare myself for the first punch but as she lands the blow to my gut I still crouch over. My stomach is on fire from the pain and my breath comes out in quick puffs against the blistering cold and discomfort.

I try not to cry out as she pulls me back up by my hair and slaps my cheek. The impact of the slap still stinging and every nerve in my face burning, she pulls back her fist and strikes me in the mouth and it's enough force to make my teeth rattle. I open my mouth to scream but when I begin to laugh instead I can see the shock play at her face.

The other girl whose been holding me up by my arms stops struggling against my attempts to free myself and lets go. I double over as the laughter pushes up from my diaphragm and into my throat to eventually fill the silence of the yard. The girl rounds me to join her partner and they both watch me warily as if I've lost my mind. They may be right because as I stand up and a new snow begins to fall I wave them both forward indicating that I'm ready for another round.

I can only assume how battered I look tottering on my lanky legs as my oversized boots slip in the snow. My vision is even becoming blurry as my adrenaline from the fight has now begun to ebb. I'm extremely dizzy and I fall to the ground on my bottom hard as the water from the melted snow seeps through the thin material of my dress. I look up to see both of them walk back into the partial warmth of the orphanage, clearly losing interest in the crazed girl sitting in the snow.

I pull my knees to my chest and examine where my tights have torn, yanking at the threads of fabric to reveal the bloody and scratched skin at my knees. It continues to snow on me and I remain in my place. I can faintly hear one of the House Mothers yell at me to come inside and can see that a few of the younger kids have gathered around the windows to watch me.

That's all they ever do, watch me.

I'm barely ever spoken to by anyone unless they want to beat me and even then I like the attention, no matter how twisted it may be.

The Mother's screams become louder as she wildly motions for me to come inside. I look over to the windows and glare at some of the kids, which prompts them to scatter from the glass. I grin to myself as I stand up slowly from the ground and brush the fresh snow from my clothes. I don't notice that I'm shaking from the cold until I'm nearly to the door and the Mother takes me by the arm, forcibly.

I'm preparing for the inevitable strike to my head or pull of my hair but it never comes. Instead, she drags me down the hall toward the Head Mother's office. I try to pull back from her grasp because I know what kind of punishment comes from a woman like the Head Mother. My first year here I had more than a few broken bones that resulted from meetings with that woman. So when we arrive at the door I attempt to run away but the Mother who has my arm just pushes me through as she opens the door. I nearly fall over on shaky legs before I gain a semblance of balance. I brush away my hair, stringy and all but free from its usual braid due to the fight, that has fallen in my eyes. The Head Mother sits at her worn desk watching me closely and I try not to shake under her hard gaze.

I fist the material of my filthy dress as I speak. "It wasn't my fault. They attacked me first as I was walking into the yard." I can hear my voice begin to break so I take a breath before continuing. "I shouldn't have to go back to solitary because of it."

She begins to speak before a man I hadn't noticed before steps in front of me to block the Head Mother's view of me. "You do know why they single you out right?" He looks down at me with silver eyes that I recognize to be a trait of the Seam. I'm uncomfortable by how closely he watches me as he scratches the beginning of a beard at his cheek. "They're threatened by you so they want to break you down. A hole like this has a way of making everyone turning on those they see as defiant. And you're definitely defiant, girl." I can hear the Head Mother huff behind him, but he seems to ignore her as he gives me a crooked grin.

I eye him carefully until I lean to the side to question her. "Why am I here?"

The Mother sits up in her seat as she searches through a stack of papers before handing a faded tan folder to the man. He watches me for a few more seconds before turning around and taking it from her hand. "Mr. Abernathy is here on behalf of the Mellark family. They're looking to employ a young lady." I furrow my brow, clearly confused. The man she addressed as Mr. Abernathy seems to be amused by my confusion as he grins at me once more. He looks down to the file in his hands as he opens it up. I'm tempted to look at it but I can feel the Mother's eyes on me and I know how she feels about curiosity. I remember suffering a concussion when I was twelve because of it. So instead I watch Mr. Abernathy's lips move as he reads. He looks up at me with an expression I would almost define as admiration.

He clears his throat as he glances at the paper in front of him before looking back to me. "Says here that your momma and sister died of illness not long after your papa died in a mine explosion. What was that like losing everyone so close together? When you were," he looks down at the file and then back to me, "eleven."

I shrug and tighten my hold on the fabric of my dress as I attempt to quell my anger. "They're all dead now. Does anything else matter?"

He nods and flips through the file once more. "You don't have anyone else?" I grit my teeth as the Mother begins to answer but Mr. Abernathy turns to her. "The girl can speak. She doesn't need you to fill her mouth with words," he tells her with more force than I've heard from him so far. I try not to smile as the Mother shrinks into her seat and he turns back to me. "Well, girl?" When I narrow my gaze at him he glances at the file again before holding my gaze again. "I mean, Katniss."

I can't help the smile that forms at my lips. He may be rude and his breath reeks of liquor but he's the first person in a while to show me some respect. "No. There's no one left." I lower my eyes. "Just me," I whisper.

When he leans into me I look up and his expression has turned somber. "Sometimes that's all you need."

I watch as he stands up straight. "To be honest, Mr. Abernathy, even here there are other girls who would be more suited for what you're wanting."

He narrows his eyes at me. "You don't know what the position is."

I shake my head as I release my dress to fold my arms over my chest. "I don't need to know. There are girls at the orphanage who are more agreeable and silent than I could ever be." I point to my face that has likely bruised up by now and I can taste the dried blood from my busted lip. "This isn't the look of someone who should be employed by a family like the Mellarks."

The Mother pushes back from her desk to walk around it to stand beside him. "I told you she wasn't the sort you wanted. She doesn't know when to shut her mouth."

I grit my teeth, which makes my jaw ache but I know that I'm one beating away from not standing back up again. I try not to look at her and instead look to Mr. Abernathy, who watches me closely. As though he's working something through his mind.

He clears his throat. "I watched you get the crap beat out of you out there. Both those girls easily had twenty pounds on you."

I sniff as I look to the side. "Thirty."

He leans to the side to catch my eye again and when I look at him he smiles. "But you didn't give up. You were like a wild thing out there."

It nearly feels like a compliment and I nod. He turns to the Head Mother abruptly. "She's the one I want. We'll be leaving right away." He turns back to me and I don't have enough time to work through my own shock when he speaks. "You still got any stuff worth taking with you, girl?"

It didn't take long for me to gather the little I did have, which only consisted of a couple of pairs of pants that were more thread bare than actually wearable, a few button-up shirts that I'd gotten from some of the older boys who had aged out, a nearly broken hairbrush, and the only other dress and pair of tights I had other than what I'm wearing.

When I walk out into the yard where Mr. Abernathy is waiting, he eyes me closely before motioning to my bare arms. "Where's your coat, girl?"

I shrug as I bring the strap of my bag over my head to settle across my chest. "I grew out of it last winter, the Mothers couldn't find one to spare."

He shakes his head and walks over to me. "What a bunch of worthless witches." Before I can question him he has already taken off his coat and draped it over my shoulders. I work my arms through the material and sigh loudly at the warmth.

He tips his head to the coat. "Better?"

I merely nod in confirmation and he turns around to wave me on. I'm barely by his side when he begins to rub his arms. "Now I'm going to freeze my ass off."

Just as I begin to question him he looks at me and smiles. I'm beginning to come to the realization that complaining is just part of his charm. I pull the coat around meet tightly as another inch of snow begins to fall while we make our way through the district. I look over to him and he's still shaking from the cold.

"Mr. Abernathy, you didn't have to give me your coat. I'm used to the cold, really."

He looks over at me and reaches out to pinch the material playfully. "I didn't give you nothing, girl. I'll be expecting that back when we reach the manor." He scratches his chin. "And enough of this Mr. Abernathy foolishness… it's Haymitch."

I nod. "Alright, Haymitch."

He smirks at me before looking forward again. I notice that we're nearly to the center of the Merchant Square when I have the feeling I'm being watched. It's difficult to tell as the snow falls in sheets in front of my eyes but I can see a few Merchants huddled together behind glass causing me to feel self-conscious. Haymitch doesn't seem to notice, or, more likely, care enough to notice, their attention as we pass the stone walkway indicating our exit out of the square.

I'm grateful for the lack of prying eyes as we hike up a snowy hill. I nearly slip more than once and Haymitch reaches out to take my elbow and help me up the rest of the steep slope. When we reach the top he releases my arm and when I thank him he just grunts a reply.

He begins to make his way down but I keep my place as I take in the scenery before me. The grand roof is easily visible even through the falling snow and it makes me think of the fairy tales in the folk songs my father would always sing to me. I look over to the side as the land seems to stretch on farther than I can see.

The Mellarks have always been a popular topic of gossip -even before I was born. It's rumored that they were once a family of bakers by profession who had somehow come into favor by the Capitol. They were the closest thing we had to dignitaries in the district, even the Mayor's amount of nobility was seen as nothing compared to the Mellark's infamy. There were also whispers that the family had been instrumental in helping the Capitol during the rebellion of the Dark Days, which is why their wealth was so great. I never bought into such rumors, since it seemed like most of what the district talked about was complete farce. There are two things to do in the district: starve and gossip. I was only interested in avoiding both.

I take one more look at the grounds from this vantage point before I slowly walk down the incline. Haymitch waits for me, but I can see that the weather is causing him to become impatient as he taps his foot and waves me on. When I reach him he gives me a sideways glance as we walk the rest of the way.

He tightens the hold he has on his arms and I can see his face has become flushed from the cold. "What exactly do you know about the Mellarks?"

I shrug as we near the property. "Nothing solid really. Just a bunch of stupid gossip."

He eyes me. "Like what? Does any of it involve the youngest son?"

I can't help but be curious by his line of questioning. "They say he was badly injured somehow, the stories always change, and that he keeps held up in the manor like some kind of ghost."

Haymitch clears his throat. "And do you believe any of it?"

I narrow my eyes at him as I try to navigate through the cold. "It's just a lot of childish nonsense that boring people use to fill their days. And even if there is truth to the gossip it doesn't mean that it would turn out to be some ridiculous story."

Haymitch chuckles, which causes me to look at him in surprise. "Alright, sweetheart."

I'm about to scold him at his choice of nicknames for me, because even if sweetheart is a step above girl, I still find it irritating. However, my attention is drawn to the high, iron gate that stands before us. Numerous rows of ivy trail down both sides of the gate and fence and I'm amazed that it can still live through this type of cold weather. Haymitch catches me staring and mutters something about the plants being lab engineered as he pushes the gate open. A high pitched squeal echoes around us as he nods for me to walk through. I look up at the front of the manor and it's even more grand than it was from the hilltop. The walk way is made out of some kind of polished stone that seems to shine underneath the snow. The lawn seems to span out and even during the harsh winter, the grass is as green as it can be as it peeks from underneath layers of snow. Everything is clean and sharp in its shape with not a speck of coal dust to be seen.

I'm already shaking from anxiety when we reach the twenty foot doors, and Haymitch knocks loudly. It isn't long until the doors creak open and I'm hit with a warmth I've never felt before. Haymitch has to take me by the arm to get me to move and I'm still in a stupor when we walk over the threshold. I'm suddenly worried about my appearance as we step into the main parlor. The walls are covered in some kind of bronze that glows and as I look up I'm met with the most beautiful ceiling I've ever seen. It seems to go on forever and I suddenly feel so very small. I'm very much out of place in somewhere so clean with my ripped clothing, and coal dusted skin and finger nails. I reach up and smooth my hair down as I follow Haymitch farther into the manor.

As we approach the center of the room I'm amazed by how busily everyone hurries along. There must be twenty servants who work around us, hanging garland from the high banisters and arranging floral arrangements with scarlet colored plants that I've never seen. But it isn't until I see the large tree positioned against where the stair cases meet that I realize what season it is.

It hadn't even occurred to me that Christmas was near even with the weather turning icy. I hadn't celebrated the holidays in nearly seven years and even before that when my family was complete we never had the income or use for a tree. My father would sometimes carve something for us, but it was never anything grand. Even so, I miss those little moments when I belonged to someone.

Some of the servants look at me as we pass but most don't give me a second glance. I'm almost thankful for their indifference as I follow Haymitch down a hall off of the parlor that is covered in rich purple and blue tapestries. I'm so out of place that I feel almost unworthy to be around all of this beauty. I'm so caught up in taking everything in that I don't notice Haymitch stop in front of me and I run into him. He stumbles forward before looking back at me and I blush from embarrassment.

His lips twitch up into a smirk as he watches me fidget. "Don't get too enamored with it all, sweetheart." He leans into me. "All the shine will wear off soon, believe me."

I nod as I continue to marvel at everything when he points to a beautifully crafted wooden bench beside the wall. "You sit there." I do as I'm told.

Haymitch pushes open a set of doors I hadn't noticed and I can hear a female voice as he shuts them. I drum my fingers idly against the wood before I start to fidget with the strap of my bag. For some reason I feel far too exposed sitting here and I pull Haymitch's coat around me even though I'm beginning to feel flush from the warmth. The time seems to slow down as I wait and it isn't long until my tail bone begins to ache from sitting for too long. My injuries resulting in the fight earlier are beginning to wear on me. I'm inspecting my battered knees when Haymitch steps out into the hall and waves me in. I stand up slowly and tuck my hair behind my ears. I haven't looked in a mirror but I can assume my appearance is less than appealing. He motions for me to hurry up and I roll my eyes at him.

When I step into the office, my mouth hangs open at how rich the colors are and the room may be grander than any of the others I've seen so far. The ceiling is vaulted and all the trim seems to be polished with a golden sheen. I walk in farther to see a petite blonde sitting at a desk. Her hair is pulled back tightly and her clothing is a rich red that nearly glows from where I am. I approach the desk and hold on tightly to the strap across my chest. She looks up from the papers she was rifling through to look at me. I bristle slightly when she scrunches her nose in disgust.

She looks at Haymitch unimpressed. "Really, Haymitch? This is the best you could have done?"

He shrugs. "You said you wanted to speak with her before she had a chance to get cleaned up."

The woman appears flabbergasted. "I know what I said and I was assuming she had a little coal dust on her, not that she would be a complete wreck." I narrow my eyes at her as she motions to me. "I mean, really, is there anything even salvageable underneath all that mess?"

I grit my teeth before I smile at her. "I'm sorry. We can't all live here untouched by coal dust. Some of us are human." My voice drips with disdain.

I'm positive for sure that I'm being sent back to the orphanage when she begins to laugh out loud. "You were right about her spirit, Haymitch." I'm completely thrown when she stands up and rounds her desk. "She may not be much to look at, but I'm sure she can handle her own with him."

I look at Haymitch who joins the woman. "I'm confused."

They both ignore me as Haymitch points to the woman. "Katniss, this is Mrs. Mellark."

I nod a hello to her that she doesn't return. "I need someone to keep my youngest son company while the rest of the family leaves for the rest of the winter. He's a special case and most people aren't able to handle him. You are to be his companion. Now I would never think of using a Seam girl, and an orphan, no less, but he has run off all of the Capitol girls we've brought here. We need someone who won't be a push over." She examines her nails before continuing. "Peeta can be quite abrasive."

I shake my head, clearly confused. "Are you wanting me to be his friend?"

She crosses her arms over her chest. "I don't care what your relationship is. I just need someone to watch him." She looks over to Haymitch. "Peeta seems to be more aggravated by a male presence so I thought that a young girl would be less threatening to him. He's been quite emotional lately and I can't afford for him to do anything rash and threaten our livelihood."

I nervously fidget with the hair behind my ears. "I just watch him? Nothing else?"

She laughs. "Child, I do not care if you screw him if - that's what you're asking." I blanch at her forwardness. "Peeta is no longer expected to give an heir especially with his appearance now. We could never show him in polite society."

I narrow my eyes at her. "I'm not expecting to sleep with anyone in the near future, Mrs. Mellark."

She shrugs as she continues. "There will be a skeleton crew here for you, only a handful because of the weather. Your meals will be prepared but don't expect to have much company. Most of the staff refuses to step a foot into the manor this late in the winter, not that I blame them." She sighs. "You will be paid for your services at the end of the season."

I don't have time to accept or refuse when she waves me off and Haymitch takes my arm to drag me out of the office. When we reach the hall I pull free of his grasp.

"Why didn't you tell me I was brought here to be some spoiled jerk's play thing?"

He looks at me seriously. "Would you have come?" I drop my eyes as he places a hand at my shoulder. "Katniss, you don't have too many days left if you stay at the orphanage. You and I both know they'll keep coming at you."

I look up at him. "I know."

He places his hand at my cheek before motioning for me to follow him. We walk down the hall for a while before we come to a door that is nearly as tall as the one to Mrs. Mellark's office. Haymitch keeps his place as he waves me on.

I stare at him. "Aren't you coming?"

He shakes his head. "Not in there, sweetheart."

I'm nervous when I push the door open and I'm assaulted by a bright fluorescent light as a group of women wearing muted grey dresses surround me. I barely have time to question them as they close the door and begin to undress me. I attempt to fight them off but they outnumber me and soon all my clothing, along with my bag of meager belongings and Haymitch's coat, is thrown to the floor. I shrink into myself as I stand there bare. I finally notice that I'm in a large bathroom as I'm led to a bathtub that is roughly the size of most rooms in the district. The water is warm but the soaps that make up the bubbles burn my scraps and cuts and I call out sharply. My outburst is ignored as they go to work on my hair and body as I slap their hands away more than once. A few giggle at me like I'm some silly girl, but most of them keep their attention on their work. After my entire body is scrubbed down, and my skin exfoliated, I'm made to stand up as warm water is poured over my head. I feel utterly out of control and it infuriates me.

Soon I'm helped out of the now grimy water and a soft robe is brought around my body. I'm ushered to a vanity where my nails are clipped and filed and my hair is brushed through. I chance a look in the mirror and even though my face is still battered, I'm shocked by how lovely I look. I stare at the bruises at my cheeks as my hair is dried by some hand held device and I look at my busted lip while cream is being applied to my face. Finally I'm dressed in a simple blue dress and delicate flats.

Haymitch is still waiting outside when I enter the hall. He's clearly been sleeping and he blinks a few times before leading me down another hall way. We reach another tall door and he pushes it open. I walk through and I'm again in awe of this place. The walls are more plain than any of the other rooms but I feel more comfortable without all the extravagance.

I study the high ceiling as Haymitch speaks. "This will be your room, sweetheart." He scratches his chin. "I should be heading out to my place on the grounds before the snow gets too bad." He turns to walk out but I call out his name causing him to turn to me.

"Haymitch, what if I can't make this work?"

He sighs. "Then you'll be sent back and it won't be long until you age out. At least with the money you'll earn here you'll have something to start a life with."

I nod but I can feel the tears gather. "Even if it's whoring myself out?"

He looks at me solemnly. "Sweetheart, we sometimes have to do things we hate to give ourselves our best chance."

I watch him leave my room and shut the door. I'm now alone like I've always been but for some reason it feels so much worse right now.

It's much later in the evening when I roll over to my side and I can see from the window that the moon is high in the sky. Thankfully the snow has stopped falling, giving me a clear view of the stars and I remember when my father and I would make wishes on them, sending up our dreams and hopes. After he died I stopped believing in wishes and the stars just became something else out of my reach.

I sigh as I push back any thoughts of my father because there's only so much pain I can feel at once. A gust of wind passes by my window and I'm made to realize how cold it must be in the orphanage now. I'm thankful for the reprieve from the cold as I bring the silk sheets up around my shoulders. The fabric glides over my skin and I have to tuck some of it underneath my arms to stop it from slipping. I continue to lie there and listen to the stillness of the manor. It's eerily quiet, which isn't something I'm used to since living in the orphanage. There was always someone crying or other activities taking place that I'd wished to ignore. I spent many nights with my thin pillow pressed against my ears as I attempted to drown the sounds out.

A deep creak from the hall causes me to sit up suddenly and I stay still for the longest time, listening until I decide it's the house most likely settling. With a sigh, I kick free of the bedding and swing my legs over the side. The hem of my nightgown falls around my ankles as I stand up from the bed and make my way across the room. I pull the door open slowly before looking out into the hall. It seems to be even quieter now than it had a moment ago. I contemplate closing the door and returning to bed but my curiosity gets the better of me so I step into the hall, pull the door to my room closed, and look down both sides of the hall. Soft light glows from fixtures up above me but it's not enough to give me a clear view more than three feet in front of me.

I look to my right where I know will lead to the main parlor where I had waited earlier that night before my meal. I know that taking the path I'm used to is wiser but I find myself turning left before I have time to question it. The light is dim and the hall seems to absorb any sound I make as I walk further into a part of the manor I'm unfamiliar with. It's unsettling to be somewhere so silent as I remember that the remaining staff had left the property. Most had already left for the train station to travel with Mrs. Mellark, who was meeting her husband and two sons in the Capitol, but a few had stayed behind to finish last minute chores and preparations for the winter season.

I had waited in the parlor for what had felt like hours for the young Master Mellark to meet me for dinner but when it seemed that he would not show I was taken into the kitchen to eat while the staff prepared the meals we would need while the snow fell heavily. A dark haired woman, who called herself Seeder, with caramel colored skin and eyes gave me my meal. I ate the rich food of dumplings and chicken as I watched her work around the kitchen. She was kind and she didn't stare at me oddly like most of the staff did. We had engaged in friendly conversation as she told me she was originally from District Eleven but now, like Haymitch, lived on the grounds. When I asked her about why she was freezing most of the food she informed me that due to the weather it would be unlikely that she would be able to make it to the house until after Christmas. I looked at her with wide eyes as she placed her hand on mine. I was clearly uneasy about spending days alone in a house with a man I hadn't met yet. After I had finished eating she had shown me the walk in freezer where the food would be stored and that it would be my duty to make sure the Master took his meals. I nodded my understanding and remained in the kitchen with Seeder until the last of the servants left and I went to retire for the night.

I slow my pace when the light fixtures seem to be few and far between, as some appear to have been ripped from the wall. This puzzles me as I come upon a wall of portraits surrounded by golden brushed frames. I study each one closely and observe the family's progression in age spanning from when Mr. and Mrs. Mellark were newly married to when they started their family. Each portrait is done in heavy oil paints that seem to be sleek and polished much like the family depicted. I walk on further and see that each son has been painted. All three of them are blond and blue eyed but it's peculiar because the further I walk I see that the youngest son seems to disappear along with the light.

I'm nearly to what I presume is the end of the hall when one of the paintings catches my attention. I squint against the lack of light and see that the canvas has been cut down the center causing the sides to fall. I reach up and use both my hands to lay the canvas flat. When the portrait is whole I gasp as I look into the bluest eyes I have ever seen. The image is of a young man who I assume is the youngest son from the other portraits. I recognize that strong jawline and head of blond hair, a shade darker than his brothers'. I'm embarrassingly captivated by the picture and I stare for a few more moments until I let go and walk down the hall.

The walls have now turned bare as I reach a staircase that seems to travel up extremely high. The light here is still sparse but I'm determined to keep going. I hold onto the banister and walk up the steps for what seems like a while until I reach a landing. I shiver when a cool breeze wraps around my bare arms since I'm still only in my nightgown and I notice that the large window has been left open. I look around me and I can tell that this part of the manor hasn't been dusted or cleaned in some time and that the ends of the heavy curtains seem to be torn and frayed. It's an obvious contrast to how the rest of the manor looks.

I step toward the window to close it but hanging up on the wall beside it is a series of paintings. The moon light filters in to give me enough of a clear view and I'm unnerved by the subject matter. Each one depicts a moment of pain as what appears to be a large black animal, almost like the monsters that children are told about in fairy tales, is engulfed in flames. I'm struck by how visceral they are and it causes me to feel physically ill. I step away from the paintings as if they could cause me harm and I continue to walk further.

I come to another series of stairs and as I begin to step, I hear a sudden loud thud as the sound of ripping canvas surrounds me, but it isn't until an agonizing scream, reminiscent of an animal, fills the room that I turn and run. I can hear yelling behind me but even though it doesn't get closer I still make my escape. My heart is thumping loudly in my ears as I trip and fall to the ground hard. I groan as my battered knees hit the floor. Out of the corner of my eye I see something that appears to be a wooden box. I must have tripped over it. I reach for it and as I do I can hear footsteps behind me. I don't waste any time picking up the box and pushing off of the ground. I don't stop running until I reach my room and close the door behind me.

I place the box beside me and fall to the ground, panting. I didn't look behind me to see what could have been following me and I hope that it doesn't know where I am. For a moment I wonder if it could have been the Master of the house but I refuse to think that anything human could have made sounds that tortured. I lean my head against the door and catch my breath before I reach out for the box and study it. The carvings are intricate and delicate birds and flowers wind around the sides and lid. I suddenly feel exposed holding it, as though I'm not alone but I think the scare from moments ago has made me paranoid. I use one hand to push off of the ground and walk over to the bed. I kneel down gingerly since my knees have already taken more of a beating today than they deserve, and slide the box underneath. I know it's not a permanent plan but it'll have to do for now until I think of something else. I stand up and crawl into bed. My body is more fatigued than I assumed because as soon as I settle into the pillows and pull the silky bedding around my shoulders I can feel myself relax and it isn't long until my eye lids become heavy and close.

I can nearly smell the smoke from the mine explosion when I open my eyes. I try to push the images of my father dying out of my mind, but it's a recurring nightmare that seems to haunt me even when I'm awake. It's still dark outside so I couldn't have been asleep for that long and I groan at my inability to have a full night's rest. I'm attempting to slow my breathing when I hear something from the other side of the room and I sit up quickly. I have to squint but even in the darkness of my room I can see that someone is sitting in the chair against the wall. I feel vulnerable as I pull the sheet tighter around my shoulders.

I can feel my body shake and hope that voice doesn't as well. "Who are you? What are doing here?"

"You can come into my room, but I can't come into yours?" Even in the shadows I can hear the amusement in the voice. A very male voice.

I swallow roughly before attempting to steady my shaking hands. "You must be Master Mellark."

He sighs loudly as though he's already bored with the conversation. "Not anymore. I'm just called Peeta now. Titles are meant for people who matter."

I'm suddenly insulted by his tone and I can feel that familiar defiance bubble up. "You didn't answer my question. Why are you in here?"

Peeta stands up from the chair and takes a few steps before stopping. "I wanted to see what they brought this time." Even though it's too dark for me to see him clearly I can still feel his eyes on me, examining me closely. "At least they picked someone who actually looks like a girl. Some of those Capitol women are so augmented it's disturbing." I'm suddenly self-conscious as I reach up to smooth down my hair, which at this point must be in all different directions due to the fitful sleep that I did manage to get. "Although you do look more battered than I would have liked. It becomes unnerving if both of us have mangled faces."

I drop my hands from my hair and touch my face gently. "It'll heal."

I can see the outline of his body more clearly as he approaches the bed. "So did they tell you the story of the beast?"

I visibly bristle as he closes the gap between us. His steps are achingly slow and it troubles me. It's as though he likes to taunt me. "I've heard rumors, like everyone else in the district."

As he comes closer I can see him tilt his head to the side. "Like what?"

I look down as I drop my hands from my face to twist my fingers in the silk sheet. "There was a fire and the youngest Mellark was injured. To be honest it always sounded like some silly children's story."

I keep my eyes on my hands but I can sense he's close so when the bed dips I scoot back until my back is against the headboard. "Well sometimes reality isn't always that far off from fiction." I look up when he becomes silent and when my gaze connects with his I suddenly forget to breath. The moonlight has given some visibility so when my eyes flit over to the right side of his face I can see the deep burn scars there. Most of the eyebrow is gone as well as some of the hair line. He watches me closely as I take him in. He leans toward me and I oddly find myself doing the same. "Are you frightened?"

I shake my head before clearly my throat. "Everyone has scars. Some are just easier to see than others."

He begins to laugh and I pull back, his laughter setting me on edge. "You are very . . . peculiar."

I'm about to question him when he begins to crawl toward me and I scramble back as far as I can go. "What are you doing?" Seemingly amused by my question, he closes the space between us until there's only a foot separating us. "I'm just getting a closer look at you." His eyes rake down the parts of my body that are not covered by the bedding so when I feel his gaze linger at my chest a deep blush forms at my skin. "You have already been bought and if I wanted to lay with you in any way it would be my right to."

I grit my teeth as I narrow my eyes at him. "I assure you that nothing would be given willingly and you'd have to fight me every step." He leans in closer and I can feel the warmth of his breath on my skin. I turn my head to the side as I prepare myself for his assault.

I close my eyes tightly but when nothing happens I turn my face toward him to see him scoot back. He's watching me closely as a smile plays at his lips. "Haymitch was right about your spirit. I look forward to our time together, Katniss."

Peeta stands up from the bed and without another word leaves the room. I'm stunned frozen as I continue to watch the door, but suddenly something occurs to me and I release the sheet. I scoot over to the edge and hang over the side. The breath in my lungs flees as I notice that the box is now gone.

I stay awake for the rest of the night running every moment of Peeta's visit through my mind. His behavior was confusing and his moods seemed to shift without warning. Even more puzzling is how much he intrigues me.

Another layer of snow begins to fall as I look out the window and when it seems I can't hide out in my room any longer I leave the warmth of my bed and begin to dress. I decide to wear one of the pairs of pants I've brought with me from the orphanage and a button up I assume is meant to be a pajama top, and my worn boots with wool socks. I'm aware of how unladylike I may seem but at this point I couldn't care less. I leave my hair free around my shoulders as I examine my face closely in the vanity mirror. The bruises still hold an angry red hue, but the edges have begun to turn blue and a scab has formed where my lip has begun to heal. I give myself one last lookover before walking over to the door and pulling it open. I peer around the side and look down both directions before stepping into the hall and walking toward the main parlor.

I'm nearly to the center of the room when the decorated tree comes into view. My eyes gaze at the bright colored balls and lights along with sprigs of holly when the window above catches my attention. I can see the snow falling faster than before and I can only imagine what it may be like outside. I walk the short distance to the main doors and pull them open with more force than I expected to use. A gust of cold air rushes around me, my dark hair lifting up into the air. I breathe in slowly and even though the wind is frigid it helps with the feeling of captivity I've had ever since arriving, especially after meeting the young master.

I close my eyes and enjoy the fleeting freedom when a hand rests at my shoulder causing me to jump back. My eyes are now wide open and I hold my hands up defensively, an old habit of having to fight off attackers from the orphanage. He stands there amused, an expression that I'm starting to associate with him, as I breathe heavily.

When the shock has left my system and I've settled down I look at him. I try not to stare as his scars are now easily visible to me because of the light. The skin at his face is puckered in faint pink lines that blend with purple coloring and as he smirks it seems to make the scarring more prominent. I'm not aware of how obvious I'm being until he clears his throat and I avert my eyes, embarrassed.

I can see him motion toward the yard out of the corner of my eye. "Planning your escape already?"

I suddenly feel warm underneath his gaze as I look at him. "No. I was just wanting to get some fresh air." My cheeks begin to flush and I hope he assumes it's from the blistering cold.

Peeta's eyes move down from my face to take in my body. I try not to fidget but it's nearly impossible as he takes his time. His attention is now on my chest when he speaks. "Weren't you given an array of dresses to wear?"

I nervously pull at the long sleeved top. "I was. But this seemed more comfortable."

He scoffs. "I would assume that pajamas are more pleasant but appearances aren't always about feeling comfortable."

I cross my arms over my chest defensively. "Is that what they teach gentlemen?"

He lifts his eyes to mine and I try not to shrink away from his hard glare. "You will wear what has been given to you. Only appropriate attire will be acceptable and I no longer want to see you wear that outfit."

I grit my teeth and match his stare. "Yes, Master Mellark."

He visibly winces at my sharp tone, as he ushers me back inside. I walk a few steps in as he closes the doors and I silently grieve for the sense of freedom I fleetingly possessed. While Peeta latches the doors closed I involuntarily begin to take in his form. His shoulders are broad and seem to stretch the material of his shirt nicely across his back. The rest of his form is just as taut and muscular and with his back to me I wouldn't have guessed that the other side of his body was deformed. His hair curls at the bottom over his collar and I have the oddest urge to run my hands through the strands.

I shudder at the thought of having such thoughts about a man who has insulted me on the only two occasions we've spoken.

Peeta turns to me when the doors are secure and when his eyes land on me I purposefully look away. I study the shiny marble floor as he approaches me. When his boots come into view I lift my eyes to him but he keeps his eyes forward as he passes me. I turn to follow him with my eyes as he heads out of the main room.

He stops abruptly and turns around clearly exasperated. "Follow me. I want to show you something."

I nod and follow his lead through the hallway. I keep my distance with at least three feet between us. I'm still wary of his company but even so I find myself taking in the shape of his body, pleasingly. Peeta turns back every so often to glance at me, I presume to make sure I'm still behind him. We take more turns than I can count and I'm beginning to feel trapped again when we stop at another set of impossibly high doors. The wood is a lighter shade than the other doors I've seen in the manor and I'm busy studying the detailed designs when Peeta pushes it open. I step back as the natural light floods around me from the ceiling high windows. I don't wait for him to invite me in before I walk into the room. The walls are lined with shelves of books that span the entire area. I'm in awe of it all. I look up and take in the brilliant ceiling that has been painted to depict what must be a forest but by the floating lights and odd characters it reminds me of something from a fairy tale.

I'm caught up in the beauty of this place so much that I don't hear Peeta walk up behind me. "Choose," he says and when I turn around and look at him bewildered he motions to the walls where the books are. I glance to the side then back to him. His brow is furrowed. "Haven't you been in a library before?"

I sense that he already knows the answer and his tone infuriates me. "No. I haven't. There aren't any places like this available in the district and even if there was, education for orphans isn't seen as a priority." He watches me and all I want to do is strike him for making me feel shameful for things out of my control. "I can't read," it comes out in a whisper and I'm almost hopeful he hadn't heard it but the smirk forming at his lips assures me that he did.

Peeta nods. "I figured that much."

I shake my head confused. "Then why would you bring me here?"

He doesn't answer me but instead walks behind me to the other side of the library. I turn my body around to watch him and when he reaches a velvet-lined bench I feel my anxiety rise when he lifts up a wooden box. The same wooden box with the beautiful etchings that I had found and took to my room the night before.

I'm frozen in place as he approaches me, his expression unreadable, but there's something forming in his eyes that makes me shiver. He's still closing the gap between us when he opens the lid of the box. I can see the chain hanging from his hand and I catch the glimpse of a golden bird before he slips it back into his pocket. It must have been a key. I'm wondering why the box would have been locked when Peeta begins to throw the contents at me. I'm struck in the chest with a stack of what seems to be letters tied together with red thread, when a photo hits me squarely in the face. I catch it before it falls to the ground. It's of a young beautiful blonde. Her golden hair falls around her shoulders and she has a coy smile, but even so her green eyes unnerve me.

I look up at him and his face has become flushed. "I had to make sure that you hadn't read them. I knew you were a thief, but I had to know if you were a snoop as well!" I step back from his rage as the color of his scars go from a soft pink to an angry scarlet. "It's lucky for me that you're ignorant."

I can hold my tongue no longer. I stomp toward him and throw the photo into his face. He doesn't try to catch it as I stop before him. "I didn't steal anything. I tripped over the box after you frightened me. I never had any intentions of opening it up." Peeta begins to argue but I hold my hand up in front of his face silencing him, before lowering it. "You manipulated me! You could have asked me if I looked into the box, but instead you took me here and forced me to tell you something greatly personal. You did the same last night when you made me think you were making advances toward me but instead you wanted to know if I would speak up." I'm shaking now but it isn't from fear but from unadulterated fury. "You've treated me like I'm something to be played with. I've had my fair share of abuse, but what you've done is disgusting." He watches me closely and I'm surprised when his face relaxes, but I'm far too angry to care. "I may be plain, poor, and uneducated but I'm not stupid. And I'm not going to be another person you treat horribly."

I turn on my heel and run through the opened doors. When I make it into the hall I can hear him scream my name but I tell myself to run faster. I try to remember the way and I even get turned around more than once but as I see the Christmas tree in the main room I know that I'm not far from the front doors. I can hear footsteps behind me and as they become louder I panic. I will myself to push through the fear as I come to the doors and attempt to undo the latch that Peeta had set earlier. I fumble with it until it's set free and pull the doors open.

I breathe in the biting cold before rushing down the slick steps. The snowfall has thickened and I can barely see in front of me at this point. My pant legs are already wet from pushing through the layers of snow. The temperature has clearly dropped more than twenty degrees since Haymitch brought me to the manor and I'm already shaking when I see the iron gate. I thought I had walked farther than that but my legs and arms are already frozen and when I reach out for the gate I slip and fall into the snow. I try to push myself up from the ground but my limbs are already numb and heavy as I lay there. The air in my lungs stings as I stare at the snow that falls around me. It's the last thing I see before my eyes close.

I'm acutely aware of a warm hand at my temple when I open my eyes. I'm expecting to look up into the snow flurried sky when I see the ceiling in my room instead. I open my mouth to speak but my voice comes out as more of a gurgled moan. I can still feel the sensation at my face so when I look over to see Peeta perched at the end of my bed, stroking my face gently I pull away.

He holds his hands up submissively. "It's alright. I'm not going to hurt you." I eye him suspiciously. "I promise," his voice is softer than I assumed it could ever be and by the way he watches me concerned I nod my head and settle back against my pillows. He gives me a genuine smile and turns to the night stand where a basin sits. Peeta reaches in to bring a wet cloth out. He wrings the excess water out before turning his body back toward mine.

He lightly dabs my brow before sliding it over my skin. The warmth from the water is inviting and I close my eyes. "I followed you outside after you ran away and found you nearly dying out there. It was stupid running out in a blizzard." I open my eyes ready to argue with him but he's looking at me with such reverence that I can't help but watch him. He smiles at me. "But I didn't give you much of a choice with the way I treated you in the library."

I'm confused by this version of him and I have to wonder if it's just another one of his mind games. He sits up enough to place the wash cloth back into the water before leaning toward me again. One of his hands rests at my arm while the other plays with the ends of my hair. "I was cruel to you and what you said wasn't wrong. I do manipulate people. It sometimes seems easier than trying to convince them I'm human." He lifts his hand from arm to motion to the scars. "I guess it's being held up here for so long on my own that has made me into some monster, not the burns."

My throat still stings from the damage of the frigid air so I use my head to motion toward his face. He seems to understand my question as he reaches for my hand and I surprisingly thread my fingers with his. "There was a fire at an estate that my parents owned in District two. We had celebrated my engagement to another dignitary's daughter…Glimmer." I furrow my brows and he nods. "Yes. The blonde in the photo." I close my eyes as he twirls the strands of my hair around his fingers before opening them to see him looking at me sadly. "No one knows how it started but I was trapped upstairs. I don't remember much but I have this clear image of smoke and then this searing pain. Afterwards I woke up in a burn unit in the Capitol. I had assumed that they would take the scars away but it wasn't done. My mother let it slip once that my scars were a punishment from President Snow." He swallows roughly before continuing. "I'm not sure how much truth there is to that but after I was released I tried to contact Glimmer but she refused to talk to me. Soon after I was brought here to live the rest of my days. My family's own shame…their deformed son and brother. I'm just a beast now." I shift to my side and place my free hand at his scars. He begins to pull back but when I lock eyes with him he stills. I run my fingers over the puckered skin slowly. "Katniss you're the first person to actually talk to me without fear. When you yelled at me you treated me no different than anyone else who would have slighted you."

I drop my hand when the exhaustion of nearly freezing to death begins to wear on me. Peeta continues to work his fingers through my hair as I fall to asleep to the sound of his voice.

When I wake up the moon is already high in the sky as the snow continues to fall. I try to shift but then I'm aware of the weight on my chest. I look down to see an arm laid across my chest before looking over to my left to see Peeta asleep beside me, lying on his side. He looks so content in his sleep even with his scars visible. I attempt to sit up but his hold on me tightens so instead I decide to scoot down so that my face is level with his and settle on my side. I reach out and gently trace the lines of his scars then the slope of his nose until my fingers are at his lips. He sighs and before I can pull away he kisses my fingers.

As innocent a gesture as it is, it still sends a warmth down my body that causes me to blush. I tuck my hand in between us and my knuckles graze against his stomach. I can feel him take in a breath before his eyes open. We both stare at each other for what seems like forever until he leans forward and kisses the tip of my nose. The blush from before only intensifies as he pulls back and settles into the pillows again. I begin to speak but Peeta reaches out and places his fingers at my lips to quiet me. I decide to comply and when he leans forward again and places his forehead to mine, I don't complain.

During the next few days we fall into a comfortable routine with each other. It's odd to be in a place so spacious with only the two of us, since the snowfall is still too thick even for the servants still on the property to come. There are still times when he says something offensive and I glare before storming off but always we find our way back to each other in the night. In the light of day we spend our days in the library where he'll read to me and I'll ask him questions about life outside of the district.

On the occasions that he feels especially open and trusting Peeta will allow me to watch him paint. It's an experience to see him rage and battle with the paints and there are times that he abruptly stops and rushes over to me. I try not to step back when he kneels down and buries his face in my waist, holding onto me so tight that it becomes hard to breath, but I never tell him to stop because I know what it is to need something to anchor you before your demons drag you down. I always study the paintings around me as he clings to me and once I asked him if he sees himself as the monster he depicts in his art. He looked up at me with an expression that seems too innocent for someone so troubled and nodded. I don't know what came over me but seeing him so open made me want to tell him about when my mother and sister died of consumption. I sunk to my knees and we held onto each other for hours surrounded by Peeta's nightmares.

I prepare our meals from the frozen food that was left and we eat in the comfortable silence that we have formed. The nights that Peeta stays up late painting and I retire to my own room I will wake up to hear him screaming. I never question leaving the warmth of my own bed as I run the distance to his private wing. Most of the time he'll be fighting the nightmares, his sheets tangled among his limbs and I will crawl into bed and talk into his ear until his arms wrap around me. The occasional kiss to the forehead will happen but it never goes beyond innocent touches, even though I yearn for him to touch my body in such a way that sets my skin on fire.

One morning as I play with the ends of his hair while he sleeps I can feel this warmth settle at my chest and I pull my hand back when I realize that perhaps my feelings for him go beyond lust. I feel panicked but as I try to pull away his hand captures mine. I attempt to seem calm and when he opens his blue eyes I'm lost in the color of them. He smiles and wishes me a Merry Christmas. I had once again forgotten about the holiday because it doesn't hold any real significance for me but Peeta is overjoyed to spend it with someone for once since the last few years he had been alone. I let him pull me to the main parlor where we drink hot chocolate and Peeta shows me how to dunk my rolls into the confection properly. We laugh and when the sugar has gone to both of our heads he chases me around the main room as though we are children. I giggle so hard that I begin to snort and as I'm doubled over he scoops me up and twirls me around the room. We both become dizzy and fall to the ground watching the lights twinkle on the tree. Peeta reaches out for my hand and I gladly accept it as we lay there for hours in a perfect silence.

When the marble floor begins to wear on our backs we get up and take our meal in the kitchen. Peeta is first to finish and he excuses himself with a peck to my cheek. I'm halfway through chewing on a roll and nearly choke when his lips press to my skin but he doesn't seem to notice. I finish my meal, clear the dishes and place them in the large sink, deciding to wash them later. I go to the parlor and wait for Peeta to show up but when he doesn't I decide to seek him out and make my way to his wing.

I check in his room and when he isn't there I pass by a door that has the light on. I'm already to the door that is left slightly ajar when I realize it is a bathroom and Peeta is standing there nude as he steps out of the copper tub. I know I should look away and walk back the way I came but something causes me to stay. His body is as muscular as I has assumed that first day and when he turns to the side I pull back enough to be in shadows but I remain studying his form. The scarring on his face goes as far as his ribs and I begin to feel a stirring in the area below my waist. My eyes drift down from his waist to settle at the area between his legs. I blush as I take in the shape of his penis and I think of the times that I had woken up to feel it pressed up against me. My mouth has gone dry as I watch him. When he turns toward the door I turn sharply and run all the way back to my room. I undress and put on my nightgown but as I do I let my hands linger at the curves of my breasts and at the top of my legs, imaging it's his hands.

Later in the night I wake up to the feel of hands running up and down my sides.

When I open my eyes Peeta is above me, his face only inches from mine. "Is this something that you want? Am I someone you want?" I nod my consent before he leans down to press his lips against mine.

I'm frozen in place but eventually I open my mouth to him and his tongue sweeps over my bottom lip. Soon we're locked in a passionate battle of lips, teeth, and tongue and I moan as he invades every part of my mouth. He parts from me but when his warm mouth latches onto my neck I moan in appreciation. My hips begin to press into him and I feel his erection against my body.

Peeta drags his tongue over my pulse point before traveling the short distance to my ear and biting the lobe gently. "I saw you watching me tonight." I moan loudly as his hands find my breasts and he pinches the nipples. "It's been so long since someone saw me as a man. Someone to be desired," his voice is so heavy with lust that I can already feel myself becoming wet.

When his hands travel down my body to settle at the place between my legs I squirm underneath him. His fingers tangle in the material of my panties and I place my hands at his chest.

I wait for him to pull away from me to look in my eyes. "I'm not ready yet, Peeta."

He pulls back suddenly and settles on his hunches. "You mean you're not ready to be with someone like me."

My mouth hangs open in shock as I watch him move off my bed and walk to the door. I sit up. "Peeta?"

He looks back at me and my heart drops by the hurt in his eyes. "Why did I think that someone like you could love a beast?"

I stare at him blankly and soon he's gone. I fall back to the bed remembering the feel of his body against mine.

I wait a few hours before making my way to his room. I can feel my anxiety rise as I near the staircase that leads to his room. I'm not even half way up when I hear the ripping of canvases and Peeta screaming out in frustration. I try to gather enough nerve to push the door open and when I do I'm frozen in place. His shirt is off as he throws paint at the canvas with no regard to where it falls. I've never seen him like this even in his worst rages. There's something about the way he moves, each movement sluggish as if it's painful for him to move. With one last stroke of his brush he falls to the floor completely. His knees hit the ground as the paint drips from the brush that is loosely hanging from his fingers. He's breathing heavily as I rush over to him. He doesn't seem to notice my presence until I'm kneeling in front of him and when he looks up at me tears are falling down his face. I place the brush on the floor and use the pads of my thumbs to wipe away his tears. I lean forward and kiss every part of his scared face and I can feel him shake underneath my lips.

My hands are framing his face as he continues to watch me closely. "I want you. I was just scared, not because of you but because all I can offer you is pain because that's all I have inside of me anymore." I lean forward and kiss him softly. "I'm just hollowed out, Peeta." His breath tickles my lips and as I pull back I know what I need now is to feel him.

I watch his eyes widen as I pull the straps of my nightgown down, revealing my breasts. I stand up slowly to allow it to pool around my feet. His eyes follow the fabric and when his eyes land at the apex of my legs I'm glad I left my panties behind. I step out of the gown and hold my hands out to him. He takes them, holding onto my hands tightly and as he stands he pulls my naked body into his. My nipples are sensitive against his broad chest as the friction of our bodies causes me to moan into his mouth as he kisses me.

I release his hands to warp my arms around his neck as he presses his lips to my ear. "We can help each other to forget all the pain, Katniss. I need you to make me forget."

I nod as I turn my head to press my lips to his. He lowers us to the ground while I fumble with the fastening and zipper of his pants. When he enters me everything explodes around me until all I am is the sensations that spread through my body. His thrusts are rapid at first until we find a rhythm and as my orgasm fast approaches and Peeta comes a part as he shouts my name all the pain is forgotten for this moment.

Afterwards we lie together on the floor among the mess of ripped canvases and paint. Our legs tangle together as Peeta kisses me on the crown of my head and I trace the scars on his rib cage.

"What will happen when the snow clears," his voice is so quiet that I nearly miss it even in the silence of the manor.

I look up at him from my position at his chest. "I don't know, but we have time before that happens."

He nods and we hold onto each other until he begins to sit up. When I begin to question him he holds up his hand, asking for me to wait and stands up from the floor. I turn on my side and use my elbow to prop up my weight as I watch his nude form walk over to the other side of the room. He bends over and I whistle lowly. When he stands he glances over his shoulder and smirks at me. When he settles back against me I can feel him put something over my head and when the cool metal falls between my bare breasts I look down to see a bird pendent. It's the one that he used as a key for the box.

I turn around, our faces inches apart. Peeta reaches out to place his hand underneath the charm, his fingers tickling the curves of my breasts. "It's used as a key but it can also be a piece of jewelry. I was given the box when I was a boy and told that it should hold everything that is precious to me. The things that I want to keep for myself so that the world can't take it away." I look down at the pendent. "You're now that box for me, Katniss. So I thought it fitting, for you to wear the key."

I shake my head. "I'm not worthy of this, Peeta."

"Yes you are," he whispers.

I reach down and take his hand in both of mine as he holds onto the necklace around my neck. He leans forward to kiss me and I lay flat on my back as he settles in between my legs and we once again make the other forget the pain.

THE END