Mr. Mellark looked at his three sons. Finch, his eldest, was turned on his side and had his blanket pulled up to his head so that only the top of his curly, brown hair was visible. He was also snoring, but it was very light and Mr. Mellark could not blame him as it had been a tough day at the bakery. His middle son, Rake, was laid out on his back and clutching the covers so tight that his knuckles had become pale-like. It was probably a nightmare about The Hunger Games, and since the reaping was tomorrow, it was understandable.
Then, Mr. Mellark looked at his youngest son, Peeta. This reaping would be his first, but Peeta had shown such courage throughout the week that it surprised Mr. Mellark. It also made him proud to see how brave his son was.
After looking over his boys one last time, Mr. Mellark stood from he sat on Peeta's bed and pulled the curtains close, so that the moonlight would not bother his children.
"Dad?" A voice whispered.
Mr. Mellark turned and saw Peeta was awake and looking at him. He smiled and went to sit on Peeta's bed again.
"You should be asleep, son. Tomorrow is the reaping." Mr. Mellark whispered.
"I'm scared, Daddy."
Mr. Mellark frowned. Peeta's voice sounded so frightened and small, and Mr. Mellark realized then that Peeta had been putting on a front the entire week. His son was terrified.
"They won't pick you, Peeta. There are so many names in that little bowl, that the odds are in your favor."
Peeta smiled. "You sound like Effie Trinkett."
Mr. Mellark chuckled. "Well, I'll take that as a compliment."
Peeta's smile soon faded. "I'm still scared."
Mr. Mellark ran his fingers through Peeta's blonde hair. "It's okay to be scared. I know what it's like to be at a reaping...And I know what it's like to be in The Hunger Games."
Peeta's eyes grew wide with surprise. "You were in The Hunger Games, Dad?" He shouted.
Mr. Mellark hushed Peeta, and made sure that Finch and Rake hadn't woken up. Rake twitched a little bit, but that could've been because of his dream-state.
"Yes, I was and I won. It was the most frightening thing in my life. I fought hard."
"D-Did you kill any tributes?" Peeta asked.
Mr. Mellark sighed. "No, Peeta, I did not. I stayed hidden and survived as well as I could."
"I don't understand, Dad. If you won then why don't you have anything that the other Victors have?"
Mr. Mellark smiled gently. "Because I chose not to. I'm glad I did, otherwise I wouldn't have met your Mom and I wouldn't have you or your brothers. Believe me, Peeta, I would have regretted every day if there was no you, or no Rake, or no Finch."
Peeta started to smile again. "Because you love us?"
Mr. Mellark nodded. "I do. I love you and your brothers very much."
"You know what, Dad?"
"What, son?"
"I'm not so scared anymore."
"I'm glad." Mr. Mellark kissed Peeta's forehead. "Get some sleep now."
As Mr. Mellark began to stand, Peeta grabbed onto his arm.
"Dad, I know I said that I'm not scared, but could you please...I mean, I don't want to sound like a baby but..."
Mr. Mellark understood what Peeta wanted to ask, and so he crawled into bed with Peeta and allowed his youngest son to snuggle up to him.
"Is that better?" Mr. Mellark asked, and Peeta nodded.
Peeta yawned. "Dad?"
"Yes?"
"I'm glad you won." Peeta whispered before dozing off.
"So am I, Peeta. So am I." Mr. Mellark said to himself.
