disclaimer - I do not own the hunger games or any of the characters
I froze with fear. The door was barely hanging from the doorframe where its hinges were dangling. Running frantically through the house, I desperately shrieked his name. Upstairs a floorboard creaked. I dashed up the stairs. I stiffened at the top of the staircase. Gory red handprints covered the cream coloured walls. Blood was dripping from them - they must have been recent. The bedroom door was slightly ajar. Tiptoeing cautiously towards it I gingerly opened the door, terrified of the scene I might see behind it. Building up enough courage, I flung the door open. I was right to be terrified the image in front of me was horrifying. He was there lifeless on the floor.
I walked gradually towards him inching closer until I was just about three steps away. I realised there was no rise and fall of his chest as an indication that he was breathing. I could tell there had been a struggle. He was a fighter I knew that, everyone did. The bruises that pattered his skin were proof as well as the cuts. I was screaming at the top of my lungs. He was dead! My Peeta, my boy with the bread was dead!
I was pacing fiercely, wearing holes in the carpet, wondering who could have done such a thing to Peeta he wouldn't hurt anyone. I didn't even realise there was another presence in the room that was until a large hand clamped over my mouth. It muffled my screams. An arm wrapped itself around my waist, almost possessively to make me stop struggling until I paralysed with fear. The man's breath fanned across the back of my neck. It must have been a man; the scent of his overused masculine aftershave was burning my nose. I tried to decide whether I was strong, enough to fight him off. I looked over to Peeta's motionless body on the floor. He would have wanted me to get away.
With a new burst of energy fuelling me I thrashed violently, screaming at my attacker, demanding he let go of me. His only reaction was to tighten his arm and chuckle at my struggling. This of course enraged me further. Finally, I escaped his grasp. I whirled round to face him. I stifled a gasp stepping backwards. His vivid cerulean eyes, the colour of ice, filled with bloodlust bore into mine. His mouth was set in the same arrogant smirk he was wearing the last time I saw him at the interview when I had to pretend to be friends with the monster. I remember wanting to slap it right of his stupid, smug, little face. His hair was somewhat messy from being tousled lightly in the wind that breezed in through the window. His sun-kissed golden blonde hair gleamed in the light streaming in. It was Cato. He was assessing me as well; I could tell he was waiting for my reaction. Slowly he stalked towards me like a hunter cornering its prey. I realised then what he was going to do. He closed in on me. His hands were just about to lock themselves round my neck when I screamed.
I woke up with a start. I was drenched in sweat. My throat was extremely sore and dry. Pain was shooting up my right arm. I must have hit it thrashing in my sleep. I decided to have shower hoping the warm water would calm my racing heart. I was wrong it didn't work. As soon as I was dressed, I stealthily crept carefully downstairs still half in my dream. The deafening silence in the house was unnerving. I made myself a cup of coffee, as it soothed my throat I thought about my nightmare.
It is not as if these dreams were unusual. I almost expect them to occur especially since the games. Peeta stars in them almost every night, if it is not him its Prim or Gale. However, it is weird that Cato also had a role in my nightmare. It must mean something; why else would my fellow victor randomly pop up in my sub-consciousness. I was broken out of my reverie by a knock at the front door. At first, I thought it was probably my mother or Prim checking up on me. Then I briefly considered it being Haymitch until I thought better of it realising he was probably so drunk that he had passed out in his house somewhere. I opened the door and nearly choked on my drink.
The smell of blood and roses consumed me as I tried to breathe through my mouth only. "President Snow," I said shocked though I recovered quickly "please come in." I said as sweetly as I could. He strolled past me like he own the place and I was intruding. I followed him into the study where he sat down at the large mahogany desk. I followed suit and sat opposite. His snakelike eyes were watching my every move. "I guess this is not a social visit." "Very observant aren't you Miss Everdeen." He said slightly sarcastic. Unfortunately you are correct I am here on business." "Well what brings you here sir?" "Well I have two proposals you are to choose one." "What are they?" I was getting nervous now what could he possibly want? "Your first option is to make frequent visits to the Capitol pleasing whoever pays for your company." "What's my other choice?" "You get married during your stay at the Capitol." "WHAT?" I blurted out before I could stop myself. He carried on as if I never spoke "I suppose you wondering who you would be so lucky to marry?"
He finally spoke. "It will be Cato." I knew my dream meant something but I never thought it would be anything like this. "What if I refuse?" I asked, "Oh miss Everdeen I doubt that you would want something to happen to your little sister Primrose or your friend, Gale was is?"…