[A/N: This is a one-shot inspired by the song 'Hurt' originally by Nine Inch Nails and later performed by Johnny Cash—my preferred version, the one that inspired this story. This contains triggering concepts and contains mature content. This is written from Peeta Mellark's point of view after his torture in the Capitol]

I hurt myself today

To see if I still feel

I focus on the pain

The only thing that's real

The needle tears a hole

The old familiar sting

Try to kill it all away

But I remember everything

Hands wrap around my wrist, tugging and pulling but the haze of my drug induced sleep is relentless. I try to pick up my legs to kick at my captors or lift an arm to throw a punch but I can do neither. I can hear the familiar hiss of Johanna's screams now and then gunfire. I'm helpless to move, to fight, or even scream. This is it, I'm going to die and I pray that it's swift; a gunshot to the head just to end this suffering, just to stop the burn in my veins. Then I find myself distracted by the voices that belong to the people dragging me from this cell. Familiar voices, not the doctor or the nurses that inject me with the needles… it's Gale Hawthorne. District Thirteen. All I hear after that are more gunshots as he drags me and then someone throws my emaciated body over their shoulder. I quit fighting the sleep, and hope that, this time, I don't wake back up.

What have I become

My sweetest friend

Everyone I know goes away

In the end

And you could have it all

My empire of dirt

I will let you down

I will make you hurt

I wear this crown of thorns

Upon my liar's chair

Full of broken thoughts

I cannot repair

Beneath the stains of time

The feelings disappear

You are someone else

I am still right here

I do wake up though. My eye flitter open, bright lights blind me as people rush around me. Voices everywhere, not a single face I recognize. A hand grazes across my wrist and I flinch, startled at the feeling of soft skin touching my own. No one is wearing latex gloves, not like they were before. Where am I?

"It is okay, Mr. Mellark. You're safe now. You're in District Thirteen. We're going to help you."

Is this real? I don't fight her, I stare at the nurse in awe waiting for her to turn into a three headed mutt or to slide a needle from her pocket but she doesn't. Her voice is soothing and the burn has faded for the moment leaving just a confused emptiness in its place.

The calm only last a moment before the door swings open and there she is, the mutt. The only who tried to kill me over and over all the while I loved her. Why? Why did I not die? I'm so confused but she's rushing towards me and she looks so innocent but my veins begin to burn, to boil and I know it's time. I have to kill her. She is within arm's reach now, her arms spread towards me—she going to choke me now but I have to stop her. I have to finally stop this mutt. She's the reason for all of this; she's the reason that they're all dead. Everyone I love. My fingers wrap around her throat and I feel the satisfying feeling of bones cracking beneath my fingers and then there's yelling, a sharp pain radiates down the back of my head and the world drifts away again.

What have I become

My sweetest friend

Everyone I know goes away

In the end

And you could have it all

My empire of dirt

I will let you down

I will make you hurt

They stare at me through glass windows. Watching while I struggle to free myself from the straps, they wait until I yell and scream demanding release before they send a soldier in, a gun at his hip. The voice in the back of my head tells me to go for the gun, to end it now but I'm not given the chance. He frees my hands and backs away to the door in which he came in. Another man steps in behind him; thick rimmed glasses sitting low on his nose, wide dark eyes gazing through them. He doesn't make a move past the soldier. He holds his clipboard against his chest as he looks me over for what seems an eternity, but every waking moment seems longer than the last.

"I'm Dr Aurelius. May I?" He asks, stepping forward.

I simply nod. The confusion lingers, especially once my hands make their way to the bandages wrapped around my head.

"You tried to kill Katniss Everdeen. Why?" He asks, her name only causing my head to throb more. Just the thought of her makes me want to charge him but I take a deep breath and squeeze my eyes shut, ignoring his inquiry and letting the pain in.

"Okay," he says dully. "Do you know where you are?"

"No—I mean, the nurse, or whoever she is said this was District Thirteen? But I was in the Capitol. How am I here? Where's Johanna?"

"A group of soldiers were sent on a special mission to rescue you. You were named by Katniss Everdeen as one of the people to be returned. You can thank her, once she recovers, that is."

She's still alive. I stare down at the white tiles on the floor before I start counting my fingers. One, two, three…

"Peeta..." His voice resonates but I ignore it.

Four, five… I have to make sure they're all there. I have to make sure that this is real.

"Peeta…" He says again and I jump off the table, angered that he won't just leave me alone. No one will just leave me alone…

"Just let me die, just kill me. If you don't, she will! She's a mutt. She'll kill me. She'll kill us all." I scream and my heart beat gets louder and louder, pounding in my ears.

Two more soldiers burst through the door and push the doctor out before rushing me, pushing me back on the white sheets. My hands are quickly strapped down again. I close my eyes and beg for death to hurry up and come for me. I'm tired of fighting, I won't fight her anymore. I hope she comes back for me soon. Party because I need to see her one last time, and then I'm suddenly confused because I don't know why I want to see her so badly. And then I remember, I remember the way she looks with two braids hanging down past her shoulders and the way she picked up the bread in the rain and then the cool morphling fills my veins and sleep pulls me under again.

If I could start again

A million miles away

I would keep myself

I would find a way