Chapter 1

Looking up from underneath

Fractured moonlight on the sea

Reflections still look the same

Before I went under

And it's peaceful in the deep

Because either way you

Cannot breathe

No need to pray

No need to speak

Because now

I am under

-Never Let Me Go (Florence and the Machine)

The bright sun weaves its way to my eyes. I slowly begin to wake up, stretching my neck and back. I look over and I see him.

Cato.

My memories come rushing back to me, and I think of Peeta, my beautiful boy. The one who didn't make it out; instead, Cato, an alter ego, did. I try and bury all of my hurt, the pain from missing him. My stomach and lungs, and especially my heart, feels so heavy and empty. I close my eyes tightly and I let out a shaky breath. Please…please let this be a dream. Just a dream. I'm still in the arena, in the cave, in Peeta's arms and this is just a dream. I'll wake up…and instead of Cato, Peeta will be there.

I open my eyes, slowly. I look over on the large bed. He's still there, that…that…stranger. He's a monster, and he's pitiless and gruesome, but most of all, he's a stranger to me. Even though his eyes are like Peeta's, physically, Cato's will never have the same feel behind them. Those few silent glimpses of them prove it.

I slowly make my way over to my closet, and I pick out something to wear. I slowly put on the shirt, and pulling up the pants seemed to take forever. I felt so…old. I felt so heavy, so gravid, so pained. I lace my shoes with stiff fingers, fumbling with the small ends. I push my way out of the train compartment.

Suddenly, I can't breathe. Like, I can't breathe, and I feel tears welling up in my eyes. They slowly cut a wet ribbon down my cheeks. I slump down in the hallways, and try to keep my sobs silent. I murmur Peeta's name over and over, saying how sorry I am. I slowly shiver…I let out shaky breaths.

I don't know how long I stayed like that. It could've been hours. Cato was probably awake, and he probably wouldn't care that I wasn't there, on the pure white sheets, like the lover's we're supposed to be. Some thing's were too painful to bring up…the fact that Cato and I, not Peeta, was one of them. I start to silently cry again. Silently.

"Sweetheart," I hear a voice say. Haymitch.

"What?" I bite back. I try to stop crying. I sniffle back everything in a loud huff.

"Are you okay? Why don't you get some breakfast…"

"Do I look okay?" I say, turning my face towards him.

He inhales sharply. He tugs me up by my elbow and I reluctantly follow him.

We arrive at the dining compartment where I slowly pick at my food. Cato's spot was empty, but everyone else was there—Haymitch, Effie, and me.

They tried talking to me, poking and prodding at me as if I were a science experiment gone wrong. I grumbled, and eventually left the table. I kept my head down as I blindly made my way back to my—no, our—bedroom.

I open the door and close it quietly, and tiptoed my way across the room. I kept to the side of the room, and ducked under the large closets and chairs. I prayed that Cato was showering. I collapse into a soft chair, the one in the corner of the room with bright purple upholstery and bright green flowers sewed onto the sides. But my bow was there, and I stroked the smooth wood where my hands would be. It was a habit I've started—sit in the revolting chair, off to the side in the shadows, to stroke my one comfort.

Cato doesn't seem to be anywhere. Which is odd—I saw him this morning. But I don't mind. It's peaceful by myself. I close my eyes and try to imagine what life would be like with Peeta…

I don't get time to. Cato bursts in, startling me. He rushed right past me, not saying a word. We just coldly nod at each other. Then he turns, and heads into the bathroom, probably to shower or brush his teeth. When he's out of sight, I shoot up out of my seat. I make a beeline for the door…maybe we don't have to stick around together all day. It's better if we're alone, separate. The interview already proved that…the backstage fiasco, Cato's harsh words, my fist connecting with his face. He then slapped me, leaving a splayed, red mark across my face. After that, I stormed away, barely containing my tears. We've hardly talked ever since.

I wander around the train, with nothing better to do. Except avoid Cato, of course. I am so mad; why are they doing this to me? Damn Snow! I can't see my family, even after the tour is done. They're keeping me at the Capitol, with Cato, at the expense of the people at the Capitol. The rage boils silently in me, but once I overflow, I'll burst. A few nights I would have to stuff my mouth with my fist, to prevent myself from screaming too loudly. Why? Why am I forced to suffer? I was too late—I couldn't save Peeta; he was bleeding too quickly, the life pouring out of him along with the sticky blood. And when he went still, when I couldn't wake him up, that's when I tried to jump off of the edge of the Cornucopia, into the mutts down below. But then the announcements came on:

"I give you the two winners of the seventy-fourth Hunger Games! Katniss Everd…"

All I wanted to do, was die, right there. There will never be life after without Peeta there. Here, to protect me. Cato couldn't match up to him—he never would be able to. He's so morbid, so…so heartless. Unbearable.

I end up in the dining compartment again, but it was dark this time, and there wasn't any food put out. I sat in one of the ghastly chairs and closed my eyes. Please, someone take me away from here…I'd give anything to see Prim again, and her little duck-like demeanor.

I let out a sigh and I shiver. I hate this, I hate how Peeta isn't there to comfort me everyday.

A series of loud thuds snaps me out of my thoughts. I see Cato approaching me, plopping down into a seat in front of me. He looks deep into my eyes, and grabs my hand.

I look into his eyes too, and I think he gets it—the pain. We might've won the Hunger Games—but at a cost. So many people have died in them, their lives cut short. And, the pain, and the fact that our families are not there to help us, support us.

Cato's hand feel's surprisingly nice. It was warm, with a few callouses. He leaned over the table and I did the same in suit. We leaned our foreheads together, and we both shut our eyes. We didn't love each other, but we at least needed each other.

AN: Review please, and if you think Katniss is waaay too depressed, imagine watching 22 kids get killed, including the love of your life, and then being stuck with some random stranger she has to love. And not to mention, she's under a lot of pressure (family, Snow watching her every move, Peeta not there).

I hope you enjoyed this first chapter!