Hello! This is my first Hunger Games fanfiction. : D

I don't know if anyone has had this idea before, but it sort of... just popped into my head when i was listening to music.

I'm not sure whether i'm going to go along the storyline of the actual book, I might just see what happens when I write this.

Now, on with the story!

I didn't want to move. I didn't even want to be here anymore. Why did Katniss have to be volunteer for her sister in the reaping? Why?

I just sat on my uncomfortable bed, unmoving, drowning myself in sorrow for the girl who I love, who is off to the Hunger Games, to most likely, die.

"Peeta, you have to come out for dinner." Dad knocked lightly on the door, taking me by surprise, and I could hear the sympathy in his voice. When I didn't reply, he came in unexpectedly, and caught me in a wreck, curled into a ball on my hard bed.

He sat next to me in silence for a moment, deciding on what to say.

"She'll be back, son. She's a survivor." He said softly. "You need to come downstairs now, or your mother will have both our heads."

How did he know I wasn't sad for one of my friends, Kris Ramsay, who got chosen in the reaping? No, I was upset for Katniss, the girl from the seam, the girl who sold squirrels to my father. The girl who had beautiful dark brown hair, and amazing grey eyes, with the prettiest face in the whole of District 12. The girl who had my heart.

I nod, and follow father down the stairs, feeling very hollow inside. Mother stares at me long and hard, trying to figure out my problem. My older brother, Maxim, also stared at me, confused as to why I was so concerned about the tributes from District 12.

My other brother, however, knew exactly why I was upset and useless. He knew about my infatuation with Katniss Everdeen. Lukus is understanding and I preferred him to Maxim. Lukus is twenty and has a baby on the way with his wife, Etienne.

"What on earth is the matter with you, Peeta? You survived the reaping! Don't go sulking around the house for no reason!" Mother yelled from over at the old oven.

How oblivious she was.

I ate my share of stale bread and potatoes slowly, picking away until it looked like a big pile of mush. I had no appetite at all, considering the girl that I was in love with was getting shipped off to the Capitol to get all dolled up, just to be murdered brutally. How on earth would she stand a chance against all of those massive Career Tributes? Yeah, I knew she was great at using a bow and arrows, but she can't guarantee can she get that there will be a bow in the arena. They usually just give the tributes spears, or maces just for all the bloodshed that comes from the use of these brutal weapons.

"If you aren't going to eat that Peeta, go and give it to the pigs or something! I don't like your attitude young man! I suggest you start icing the cakes for tomorrow! People will be buying them to celebrate!" The witch yelled.

I silently get up with my plate and walk outside into the fresh night air. I scrape the mush into the pig pen, and all of the pigs ran over on their stumpy legs to get their share. Pigs have such an easy life. No Hunger Games for pigs.

Ignoring my mother's request that I ice the cakes, I risked a whipping to sit by the pigs just to think. Although, my mind continued to wander off to the topic of Katniss. Are they on the still on the train? Is Kris talking to her, planning her death? The idea makes me sick.

The sky darkens even more, and I'm called inside by Maxim.

"Peeta, you better get in here, mom is getting pissy." He said, opening the door for me.

"Sure." I mumble, and I drag myself inside, and begin to ice the cakes in pretty pinks and baby blues. Usually I enjoy the task, but today there is no fulfilment at all in making the cakes as beautiful as possible, with sugary white flowers and ribbons. Personally, I think my first cake is a sloppy job, and I'm sure that mother won't notice if I take one of the smaller cakes and drop it off at the Everdeen's. Katniss's younger sister, Prim, the girl who Katniss volunteered for today, always stops by the window to admire the beautiful cakes.

Actually, mother would notice.

So then, I purposely cut through the icing and half the cake. I know it couldn't pass as an accident, but my mother is so dumb she wouldn't even take notice. We couldn't sell a cake that looked like someone had decided to eat it.

"Mother!" I yell, trying to sound worried.

"What?" She yelled from our tiny lounge area. "I was watching the recap of the reapings! This better be important!" She walked around the corner and I could see her lips purse as she saw the cut through the middle of the cake.

"Well, wasn't that stupid!" She exclaimed calmly, reaching for the wooden spoon that was on the bench across from me. With all the force possible, she slammed the spoon into my head.

I felt dizzy at first, and I couldn't see straight, but I was able to hear the witch yell at me to throw the cake in the bins. I couldn't manage a smile in my sad mood, but I felt good for doing something for the Everdeen's as I stepped out the back door and quickly ran along the streets in bare feet, the cake securely in my hands. Although my head throbbed dreadfully, I noticed all of the families with children partying as their child wasn't chosen in the reaping.

As I ran past the Ramsay's house, I could hear a very loud sobbing over the noise of the parties occurring in many homes. Their door was closed, windows shut, and through the cracks of the brickwork, no candles were lit, and all of the lights were switched off.

I continued to run through town, until the homes started to get smaller and older, and people were camped out in the streets, wheezing heavily from many years of work in the mines. It was then I knew I was in the seam.

Once again, there were homes with parties going on inside, with happiness and laughing as they watched the recaps of all of the reapings. It made my stomach churn to think that last year I was celebrating too, celebrating that I had survived for another year. Although, now that Katniss is a tribute, I feel sick, right down to the bone because I had also celebrating the death of a fellow teenager from my district.

Then, I found the Everdeen's tiny house. I had often visited and just watched from the outside, hoping that perhaps Katniss would notice me one day. The curtains were drawn and the door was locked. I felt sad as I knocked on the door. Every day I had dreamed of visiting this house to talk to the girl I had fallen for, and now I was here with a cake because Katniss was going to die.

Wait. Katniss was not going to die. She will survive.

It was the mother who opened the door. Her eyes were puffy and red, but they also looked empty. She dabbed at her eyes with a dirty hankie and stared at me for a long time.

"Ms, I brought you this. I'm really sorry." I bow my head in the slightest, and hand her the cake. I could feel the tears prickling my eyes, so I turn away as soon as she takes the cake from my hands.

"Wait." Her voice cracks.

I really want to get away from here, before I start crying again. I think she saw how puffy and red my eyes also are. Maybe she thought I was genuinely sad for the loss of her daughter. Little did she know, I was in almost as much agony as she was from the results of the reaping.

She appears at the door way, just as the first tear begins to form. But now, Prim is by her side, with the pretty pink cake in her small hands.

"Thank you very much." She managed to get out of her trembling little lips. The cake

was wobbling in her shaking hands so much that I was afraid she'd drop it.

"No problems. I hope that Katniss comes home, very, very much." My voice was cracking too. Now they knew I was truly upset, as I turned away with one last look at the mourning family. My head throbbed even more than before .

I walked back through the freezing night, with the tears rolling freely down my face. My encounter with the hollow, empty eyes of Katniss's family made me realise that perhaps there isn't hope.

I almost forced myself to take each step, to continue on. The thought of there being no hope made me tremble, just as little Prim had. What was going to be a kind gesture of condolences opened a huge, gaping hole in my heart. I should have volunteered for Kris, to help protect Katniss and bring her home. But no. When they asked for volunteers, I was still paralysed by the thought of Katniss competing in the Hunger Games. I didn't even listen to the rest of the ceremony, I had been totally numb.

When I finally made my way back home, I managed to escape having to walk past the television and see all of the massive, strong boys and quick, cunning girls that would be planning the murder of each tribute, even the other from their district. In some districts, where winning is an extremely prestigious award, they plan to kill as viciously as possible. Why are they so cold and heartless?

Somehow, I made my way up to my tiny bedroom that I shared with Maxim and fell in a pile on my bed. Then, the thought of the plain cakes in the kitchen pass through my mind briefly, before I realise I don't care.

After many, many agonizing hours lying still in bed, I somehow manage to drift off to sleep. But unconsciousness didn't bring relief from the pain I felt in the waking hours. I was still haunted with nightmares of previous Hunger Games murders, and all of the victims were poor Katniss.

I wanted to know she would survive, and come back to District 12 alive, not in a simple, wooden coffin. But I'm not a stupid boy and that would be an impossible feat especially against the huge Careers, who have been trained their whole lives for the trials and tribulations of the Hunger Games. Despite her skills in hunting and survival, I had doubts, and I had lots of them.

I woke myself up in the morning, with a peculiar thought.

How is Gale? How is he coping?

The two were so close that he often made me extremely jealous. For sure he would be suffering without Katniss. How many people have to suffer because of this stupid reality TV show?

I make myself get up for another day, and think of what will happen today. School is cancelled because of the opening ceremony, even though it doesn't air here in District 12 until six o'clock tonight.

Then, my mother breaks my train of though once more.

"Peeta Mellark! Get down here now! You didn't finish one cake yesterday! What are we going to put in the window? Plain cakes?! I don't think so! If you aren't here in ten seconds…!"

Oh well. Another day to endure.

So, what did you think?

Please review and tell me what you think, and if I should continue!

Thanks! Chopeeh xx