Memories.

There are so many things that come to my mind when I hear the word memories.

Some of them are beautiful – and some are cruel.

And not every memory in my head is true.

I know today that I've been manipulated by the Capitol.

Snow's acts of cruelty stopped at nothing. After Katniss had blown up the force field in the Quarter Quell, he took me out of the arena and hijacked me.

I've always asked myself why the rebels from 13 didn't save me. I knew it was unfair to think like this, but I deserved to be safe after all I'd been through. The only thing I could hold on to was Katniss.

If I hadn't known she was alive, and safe, along with her family, I would never have found the strength to stand Snow's torture.

I remember the pain every night, and when I wake up, it's like I'm still in my cell, hearing Johanna Mason scream through the walls.

I have to tell myself it's over, then.

Except it isn't.

And it will never be.

After the rebels had rescued me, I tried to kill Katniss. She told me how happy she was to have me back alive, and I put my hands around her throat when she wanted to embrace me.

For me, it's like I'd done these things in another life, ages ago. Certainly, it wasn't really me who did this. It was the Peeta Mellark the Capitol created to eliminate the Mockingjay.

I'm still filled with pain when I think of the Capitol's actions.

Snow was crazy. He was nothing but a crazy old man who was ready to sell his own grandmother to get what he wanted.

So, when he wanted Katniss, he had to get over me first. And Snow really thought he could do it.

But his actions weren't stronger than my love.

It took a long time to recognize Katniss isn't a mutt, and it took even longer to be sure I can trust her.

It was in the Capitol, during our mission, when Katniss succeeded to convince me with her kiss.

I know now that I love her.

The war's over.

We live together in the Victors' Village back in District 12.

We haven't any children, not yet. Because we both agree on having children.

There are no Hunger Games anymore that could take them away from us.

Katniss told me once that she never wanted to have children because of the Games, and because she sometimes really hated herself. For having killed so much people, even if she acted for the rebellion and for a new system of peace and freedom in Panem.

We have achieved this aim, though.

Everything's good.

Except that there are still some memories I can't deal with.

They appear in my nightmares.

And every time I have to ask myself: Real or not real?

It's the same right now.

The war ended three years ago. I don't know why I'm still waking up in the middle of the night, trying not to scream and wake Katniss, too.

Yesterday, it was the mutts. The ones we fought against in our first Games.

Today, my dream was about Mags sacrificing herself for the rest of us.

I felt the cold sweat on my forehead and the mugginess of the jungle around me, and I was about to go mad. I was running through deep underbrush, quickly pulling vines and branches out of my way, trying to escape the fog, but I was too slow. Finally, the spasms took control of me.

There were so many feelings inside me: pain, fear, even resignation. Somewhere, there was still the will to fight, against all reason. I saw Katniss' braid swinging from side to side in front of me and I wanted so badly to hang on, but I couldn't. When she turned, I wasn't able to see her face clearly, and I noticed I was slowly losing consciousness.

Then, there was Finnick. My field of vision darkened, but I could feel how I was lifted up on his back. His feet carried us through the jungle, away from the fog, when suddenly we stopped.

I could make out two figures that must have been Katniss and Mags, and when I saw Katniss gesturing and Finnick shaking his head, I understood that Katniss wasn't able to go on with Mags on her back.

It all happened so quickly.

The next moment, I noticed Mags stumbling right into the fog. In the distance, her shadowy figure was shaken by spasms and finally disappeared.

I wanted to cry, I wanted to shout out at the Gamemakers to stop this insanity, but I was not able to.

Everything went dark again, and here I am now, fully awake.

I'm in my bed, holding Katniss in my arms.

I sit upright and swallow hard.

I know it was a nightmare.

It's over, I repeat in my head a few times.

This is my home. We are safe. The Quarter Quell was four years ago.

The poisonous fog comes to my mind.

Every memory that has been manipulated by the Capitol seems to be foggy.

So, real or not real?

I've just relived the moment Mags died.

Certainly, she is dead now. She died in the arena.

But did she die like this? Did she die to save our lives?

I don't know.

Katniss and I haven't talked about the Games. We didn't want to remember anything about it.

Going into the arena two times has been enough of cruelty.

Both times, I had taken it as a sure death sentence. There were so many moments I had been sure I'd die, but I didn't.

I am grateful to be here now, and even more grateful that Katniss is with me.

There's absolutely no need to talk about it.

Even if I want to know so badly if my memory's real or not.

Yesterday, when I'd dreamed about the wolf mutts, I managed to figure it out by myself. I tried to remember everything I knew about my first Hunger Games, and when it came to my competitors, I discovered they had all been represented by a mutt. It was their eyes that led me to this conclusion. The wolf mutts in my dream had had exactly the same eyes as the other tributes.

Well, I'm not in the mood right now to recall everything about the Quarter Quell.

Because when I think of my second Games, I know I will also think about me being taken prisoner and tortured and hijacked by Snow.

I sigh.

It seems like it has already begun.

So, what do I know to be true about the Quarter Quell?

There were Cashmere and Gloss from District 1, Brutus and Enobaria from 2, Wiress and Beetee from 3, Finnick and Mags from 4, Johanna Mason from 7 and Katniss and me from 12. I don't remember the rest of them, but it doesn't seem to be important, anyway.

The arena had been a clock.

That's the next thing that comes to my mind, and I can't deny to hear Wiress' "Tick, tock" in my head at this moment.

You're not going crazy, I remind myself. Katniss isn't a mutt. Everything's alright.

Suddenly, I feel Katniss moving next to me.

I look at her. She's waking up.

It doesn't take long until she notices me, sitting upright and thinking.

She's about to rise when I whisper: "It's okay. Just turn around and go to sleep again."

But as expected, Katniss doesn't follow my instructions.

She rises and stares at me intensely. "I heard you whisper something, Peeta. Something like ʻTick, tock. ʼ"

I stare back in her eyes, find something resembling fear and drop my gaze.

I've thought aloud.

"It is not okay", Katniss goes on quietly. "It's the Quarter Quell, isn't it?"

Somehow, I manage to nod my head.

But I can't bring my voice to explain her what's going on. That it had been nothing than a nightmare.

There's silence for a long time, and then, suddenly, her hand on my cheek.

It feels warm and comforting.

"We can't go on like that", Katniss whispers into the darkness. "You're tossing and turning every night in your sleep. You can trust me, Peeta, because I know what nightmares are."

I think about her words.

Katniss is the only one who can understand me, having those terrible nightmares about the Games; the only one who shares them.

But she doesn't have to ask herself the question: Real or not real?

Katniss hasn't been hijacked. She knows her memories are real, even if their cruelty is unbelievable sometimes.

After some moments, I finally get out: "You can't do anything, Katniss. You don't know what it's like to have those foggy nightmares I have."

"So, this is about you being hijacked", Katniss remarks. "You're right, I don't know it. But I want to help you."

I clench my hands to fists.

I'm suddenly overwhelmed by rage.

Four years have passed since the Quarter Quell, and three of them I've spent happily together with Katniss.

But after all, the Games still haunt me.

My memories still haunt me.

They form nightmares inside my head, and as if it wouldn't be enough to keep me from sleeping, they also wake Katniss and draw her face with shadows of worry.

Why can't the past just let us live in peace?

"I don't want you to spend your nights worrying about me", I declare without looking into Katniss' face. "You need to rest. Please."

"No", she replies right away. "But maybe it would help you to just hold me in your arms. Like in the train on our Victory Tour."

I meet her eyes, asking her if she's serious without saying a word. She nods.

Gently, I pull her into my arms, pushing her warm Body against my chest. My hand is cautiously stroking her hair.

And Katniss is right.

I begin to relax a little.

"I dreamed about the old woman from 4", I murmur into Katniss' ear. "Mags."

She turns her head and looks up to me, begging me silently to go on.

"She sacrificed herself for us by going into the fog", I say. "Real or not real?"

"Real." Katniss bites her lower lip.

I strike some loose strands of hair behind her ear, so I can kiss her on the forehead.

She doesn't lie to me.

She has never lied to me, actually.

Although I thought her love had been a lie after coming back safely from our first Hunger Games, I know now that she'd already begun falling for me back then.

I remember our kisses in the cave, me with my injured leg desperately hanging on to her, and when I look into her eyes, I see she thinks about it, too.

I am so unbelievably thankful for being here without fearing that one of us could be killed soon.

"I want you to know that I will answer every question you have about the Games", Katniss says now. "But we both know it's finally over. Not only the Games, but your torture as well. I'm going to help you to figure out what's real. Snow has lost his own game, I guess."

I have to smile at the thought of it, until those faces appear in front of my eyes.

The faces of the dead.

There were those who left their lives in the Games, like Rue or Mags.

Those who died when District 12 was bombed, like my family.

And at last, those who were killed in the Capitol, during the war. Like Boggs, Finnick and Katniss' little sister, Prim.

"What are you thinking about?", I hear Katniss ask.

I shrug. "I don't know. Maybe Snow hasn't completely lost."

Just when Katniss wants to ask her next question, I explain: "I was thinking at those who died."

"Prim", Katniss whispers in an almost inaudible voice and begins to snivel.

I pull my arms around her tightly. "I'm sorry."

Three years since the deaths ended, but it's as if they're still happening every day. Because we are forced to relive them, again and again.

Will the nightmares ever stop?

Slowly, I lean back, closing my eyes. My hand is stroking Katniss' face to calm her down. After a while, there's only the silence between us.

I don't know if Katniss has fallen asleep until I feel her hand holding mine. Her tight grasp.

I wish she would never let go of me.

"You're right", Katniss whispers then. "Snow has done too much to ever forget about him. I still smell his scent of blood and roses."

"And I still hear the screams", I add. "Mostly Johanna, being tortured in the cell next to mine."

It's clear that we won't ever forget it.

I feel stupid at the thought we might get over it.

But we have each other.

And Snow is dead.

And the Hunger Games don't exist anymore.

And District 12 blossoms out again.

"We should sleep", I say, staring at the blank ceiling. "We have always managed to fight the nightmares together, do you remember?"

"I do", Katniss answers.

While listening to her rhythmic breath, I think at my dream again.

I've regained one more memory today, even if it's a cruel one.

Katniss, the girl I've been in love with since we were in school, is with me now, sleeping at my chest.

We will have children.

Snow may have taken a lot away from me, but he has never succeeded to take Katniss.

So, one more time, it's her who's the last thing I can hang on to.

My piece of driftwood in the cold ocean.

With nothing but her on my mind, I finally fall asleep again.

Author's note:

Thanks a lot for reading my story!

I don't know if you can understand me, but after I'd finished the third book, I just needed to write something like that to accept The Hunger Games to be over now.

Of course, special thanks to Suzanne Collins whose books gripped me from the first page on.

I am glad that Peeta and Katniss finally found their peace. Together.