I woke up screaming for Peeta.

"Another nightmare?" he asked, while rubbing my back.

"It's the same one." I started "The mutts were attacking Finnick, and suddenly, it's not Finn, it's you. It's you, Peeta." My eyes started filling up with tears, so I blinked repeatedly, trying to avoid them falling.

"Hey, it's okay." He said, his blue eyes staring into the grey of mine. "I'm here. I'm here." He held me tight for a few minutes.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"Hum, 1 AM. You only slept for a couple of hours before the screams started. Let's try and get some sleep, ok?" He kissed me on the forehead and closed his eyes.

I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep. I tossed and turned for a while and then I just stayed there, staring at the ceiling. If I closed my eyes, all I would see was Finnick's eyes turning into Peeta's, while those horrible, terrifying mutations devoured him. Suddenly, the door opened and light from the hallway filled the room.

"Mommy?" her low and cautious voice made me sit up "I can't sleep."

"Yeah? Me either. Come here sweetie." She jumped to the bed, occupying only a small portion of it. She was so, so tiny. So like her… "Why can't you sleep?"

"I was having bad dreams… and you?"

"Me too." I sighed.

"Was it about The Hunger Games?" I stared at her with my eyes wide open, not knowing where my voice had gone. "We talked about it at school."

Why? She was so young, why did they have to teach her these things? She was only 12… I bet they said that at her age, 30 years ago, children would be reaped for the first time to win a game or die. That is, until I came along and rebelled against the Capitol. I shuddered, remembering those awful times. Times I would never, ever forget, although I wanted to. Badly.

My daughter took my silence as a yes, so she continued. "What was it like?"

"I… I don't want to talk about it. Not now. Maybe when you're older."

She frowned, trying to understand what I meant. "How old?"

"I don't know. Whenever I think you're ready."

"When will I be ready?"

"Enough!" She gave a little jump, and her blue eyes, just like her father's, showed shock. Peeta grunted, but didn't wake up. I had never shouted at her. We kept looking at each other, but eventually I gave up. "I'm sorry."

"No, I am." She said. I smiled. "I'm sorry Mommy."

I hugged her. She seemed so fragile; any force could break her little bones. Her hair mingled with mine, looking the same, and I held her until she yawned. "Ready to sleep now?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Good. Off you go." She got out of the bed, and before shutting the door behind her, she looked at me.

"I love you Mommy."

I smiled, playing in my head all the times she'd said that, and imagining all the times she'd say the same in the future. "I love you too, Prim."