When the bread is charred, the fire is impenetrable, the hunter has been let loose to kill, and the dandelion has wilted…

All that is Left is the Daisy.

The unlikely story of Delly Cartwright

Chapter 1

I sat bolt upright in bed, the shadow of a scream still lingered on my lips. For just a moment I didn't know where I was, until I gazed around the room.

"I'm home…" I whispered to myself.

There was nothing out of the norm. My room was still my room. Light blue drapes framed the windows and a small vase of daisies was sitting on the mahogany desk. My bed was still white linen and the walls remained the same white color. I had moved into the Victor's Village three weeks ago on a special request from the government. At least that was my excuse for why I came home. I had even believed it for a while… but eventually I realized the real reason why I was here, and I was terrified of it.

Every time I awoke, there was always a split second when I couldn't tell where I was. It was partially because of the dreams, and partially because I had slept in the same grey bed for a year, before I came back.

My eyes flew to the clock on the wall. Four forty-five. Time for work. Mum and dad used to run a shoe shop, before the bombs blew in. I knew how to sew and knit and stitch, but not much else. I could cook a decent meal, but that wouldn't help me unless I had the money to buy food. Now I make clothes.

We from District 12 don't know what to do with ourselves anymore. The country's plans for rebuilding the shops have been postponed at least four times, and no one else has come back. The measly ten that have returned are out of work and out of hope. District 12 is now the center for odd jobs. After all how can you build a District out of an alcoholic that raises geese, a hunter with a temper, a tortured boy who decorates cakes, an old woman who makes soup, a young girl who pushes a cart, an illegal tradesman, a former miner who makes a living looking for bodies, and two more men that raise goats for a living? Then there's me; a girl hired by the country to make clothes and make sure that the two legally insane people don't get off their treatments and kill someone.

Welcome to District 12.

The state of the once city isn't any better. The only place unharmed is the Victor's Village, where we all live. Everywhere else is covered in ashes and the skeletons of the buildings that were once the town. I know the way to the family shoe shop by heart, but when I visit the only thing that greets me is the hollow shell of the building and the alarming and unsettling knowledge that just feet from me is the site where my parents took their last breaths.

Sometimes I wonder how I made it out alive. Then I remember that I was in the meadow with my brother, and that we sprinted at the sight of the looming hovercrafts. The entire city was annihilated. Only those out of town survived. Those lucky people who were on the outskirts of the meadow, or those who were taking a stroll through the Victor's Village.

I made my way to the kitchen, and turned on the stove. The blue fire blazed to life. The girl on fire, Katniss Everdeen. The slogan blazed to life in my head, as if it was branded on the insides of my eyelids. I had always respected Katniss. Even the stories of her heroic battles made me cringe. So what if Katniss gets Peeta. Of course she should get Peeta, I mean, he deserves someone like her! A lump formed in my throat as I tried to swallow.

So what if he barely remembers me? It is not like he would pick me over Katniss. I'm just a formerly-pudgy district twelve girl who has absolutely nothing to offer.

I grabbed a pot and put it over the fire, pretending to busy myself.

So what? It doesn't matter.

My eyes started to water, and I fought to keep them from falling. My back was hunched over, to hide the tears. I couldn't figure out who I was hiding from.

So what if I- I couldn't finish my sentence. Covered my face with my hands, and grabbed the edges of my hair, as the liquid sadness rolled down my cheeks. It was the whole reason why I was there. My stupid hopeless heart.

So what if I love Peeta and he will never do so much as look me in the eyes again?

I did what I'd always done; I buried myself in whatever I was doing. Taking a rather large, off-white, oblong object, one of Haymitch's goose eggs, I cracked it in the skillet. As I watched it bubble, fracture, and fry, I couldn't help feeling that My heart was like the egg.

Crushed and burning because of the flame.

I couldn't bring myself to eat. My chest ached and I felt like my entire torso was caving in on its self. Taking a deep breath, I pushed back my scuffed wooded chair and rose from it, promising myself to eat later.

I went back up to my room and pulled on an old flower print, blue dress, from the day that I escaped the hovercrafts. One of my tighter dresses from before the rebellion now hung loosely from my shoulders.

I walked over to the mirror in the corner of the room, surveying myself. I tightened the string around the waist. It looked a little better, but not much. I went in to the war pudgy, and came back out too-thin. There was no perfect for me. Not like Katniss Everdeen… the little criticizer in the back of my head pointed out. I was on the verge of tears again.

I pulled my hair into a half-pony tail and pulled on some old blue flats that my mother had sewn me to match the dress.

With a sigh, I left the room and made my way to my assigned duties. I had to go check on everyone. The new government had elected me as Manager of Living, for my bubbly personality. I agreed mostly because I was going home, but not just going back to District 12. Because I was going back with Peeta. I pulled on my jaunty mask and fake smile, and headed out to check on every resident in town. It was what I was being paid for.

I always started my rounds at the very end of the district, so I had time to reminisce and deal with my own feeling before I had to fulfill my life's purpose of worrying about others.

I always started with why I was here. Today, I chose to relive my train ride back. My first assignment had been to handle Peeta on the train ride back to District 12. When Plutarch gave me the job, he also gave me a sedative syringe along with it, just in case I needed to "control" Peeta, but I wasn't worried about that. Foolish or not, I had no fear in my mind.

There I was bulleting across the Districts, with Peeta sitting next to me, and I couldn't help having the butterflies in my stomach. Both because it was the start of a new adventure and because Peeta was there with me.

He was slumped over on the window of our little compartment.

"Delly?" his once-smooth voice met my ears.

"Yes, Peeta?"

"Real or not real, you are my best friend from back home?"

"I…"

"Just tell me, please, don't lie," his voice was crackly and exhausted, hardly the Peeta that I'd known before.

"Peeta," I tried to direct myself away from the question, but his sky blue eyes locked on mine, and I could see the pleading in his eyes. "We knew each other better than anyone. I want to think that you thought of me as your best friend, but I don't know for sure."

Peeta nodded, not lifting his gaze from me. His eyes were sunken, and so were his cheeks.

"Delly?" Peeta asked again.

"Yes, Peeta?"

"Was I your best friend?" He asked.

I didn't hesitate, "Absolutely, forever."

A smile appeared on his face, and he closed his eyes. I watched his chest rise and fall, with each sweet breath.

"Delly?"

"Yes, Peeta?"

"Thank You."

"For what?"

"Everything. They may have spoiled Katniss, but they could never spoil you. You were the only good memory I had. I just remember thinking that I would do anything to save you from that mutt. I thought she was a mutt…" Peeta trailed off.

I smiled back at him, and then laid back into my seat.

"Delly?" Peeta asked one last time.

"Yes, Peeta?"

"What did home look like?"

His sky blue eyes stared deep into mine. Pushed himself up from his position against the window, and laid his head on my shoulder. I smiled down at him.

"It was beautiful in the right places, and ugly in others, but I promise you that most of where you saw was absolutely beautiful."

"Real or Not Real, we used to go daisy picking in a meadow."

"Real," I whispered.

Peeta's breath grew slow and steady as he fell asleep on my shoulder. For the first time in several years, Peeta looked peaceful, and I decided that I would do anything to give him that peace, even if it meant giving him away to Katniss forever.

I would do anything for him.