Hey guys! This is my second fan fiction, I don't think I'll finish my other story, I really don't like it, and I'll keep it up anyways! Check it out if you want. I promise I'll finish this one though. I won't update on a regular basis, but expect at least a chapter a week. I do not own anything; all the characters belong to the wonderful Suzanne Collins. Reviews are great Please do not hate, all constructive criticism is greatly appreciative. All negative comments will be deleted. Some of the words in this chapter are Suzanne Collin's; the majority of the words are my own.
The rain was coming down in icy sheets when I met Peeta Mellark. I was fourteen years old. I found myself stumbling along a muddy lane behind the shops that serve the wealthiest towns people. Stealing is punishable by death in District 12.
I was picking through the empty trash bins when I passed the bakery. A fire was glowing from the hearth of the stoves, the bakery was glowing.
I nestled by a nearby tree, huddled in a ball for warmth. The sky was gray as clouds rolled in, covering any bit of sunlight.
My face was hot, a mixture of sweat, rain, and dirt cling to my skin. My stomach was rumbling, my face hot, my limbs numb, and a growing fever. I was sure to die. I sat in the rain for what seems like forever, waiting for death to find me.
"Stupid boy! Can't you do anything right?" said a middle aged woman, who was the baker's wife. She ran out of the bakery, yelling at a boy while swatting him with a newspaper. With every hit he muffled a scream.
"Nobody's going to buy burnt bread, just feed it to the pigs!" she struck him once more as he chucked a loaf into the pig's pen.
Suddenly, she noticed me, screaming was at me, telling me to leave and threatened to call the peacekeepers. Her words about the seam kids were harsh and ugly. I noticed a boy my age standing behind her, the boy who had just been struck, Peeta Mellark. A blond haired blue eyed boy from my year. Even though I've known him since kindergarten, I never noticed him until now. A look of sadness registered on his face.
His mother went inside the bakery, probably to call the peacekeepers to retrieve me. Who cares? By the time they come, I'll be as good as dead anyways.
Peeta Mellark found my eyes and gazed longingly at me. He looked around to see if his mother was out of sight as he dropped a load towards my feet.
That day he saved my life. I never thanked him for the bread. The following day at school, I looked at him across the courtyard, he smiled at me. His eye was blackened and his body bruised. I looked down, embarrassed.
I saw a dandelion, the first one of the spring which gave me hope, that things will be good again.
That afternoon, the baker's wife and two peacekeepers came to my house to arrest me. She was screaming harsh profanities at me, saying how she hated the seam brats and that I was going to pay for stealing bread.
The peacekeepers were sympathetic; I was a scrawny fourteen year old girl who never had enough to eat in her life. So they compromised that I work at the bakery three days of the week without pay for an entire year to pay of my debt. I have to spend my time working long shifts, instead of hunting for food for my family. Ultimately, I had to agree or they would have to execute me, maybe put me in prison. Sometimes I think death would have been the easier option, but who would feed Prim, the only person who I was sure that I love? It would kill me to see them starve to death, we've came close to it so many times before.
I have to work Mondays, Wednesdays and part of Sunday, so I'll miss hours of hunting with Gale. This was going to be a long year.