A/N - Throughout this story, I do use an abundance of direct quotes. These don't belong to me - they are Susan Collins' :) . If you find a mistake in any of the chapters, just let me know. Reviews are appreciated, as always. They help me as an author know what I need to fix and what people think, so please- review! Chapters get longer, too.
My wife didn't want another baby. We had two boys already who would take care of us in old age and inherit the bakery we own in the heart of District Twelve. A family of four is plenty of mouths to feed, and though we've never been at risk of starvation, it does get tiresome to have only stale bread to present to your family at meals. Day after day, night after night - our coal-blackened district barely scrapes by. And then, of course, there's the reaping. What a world to bring even one child into, but three? It's a parent's worst nightmare: to lose the thing you love most - the child that you would protect with your life.
But another baby comes. Peeta is born with a dusting of pale down on his head and bright blue eyes. They are warm, despite the cool color. When he cries, my chest twists in pain. He's so innocent. So vulnerable. How can such a thing even exist in the grimy world we live in?
And then he smiles for the first time. A little toothless, lopsided grin. One glance at him and I melt. Gone are my apprehensions about having a third little boy. As I rock him to sleep, I vow to protect him. He's ours now. Such a little ray of light should never be extinguished by the evils of this world.
It's too bad his mother doesn't see what I do. She's been hardened over the years and anger usually masks her pain. When she looks at Peeta, she doesn't see a little boy. She sees dwindling money and numbers that don't add up. She sees one more thing to get attached to. Because she of all people knows that the more you love something, the harsher the pain when it's taken away.
My wife's parents died at an early age that awful winter influenza swept the district and she and her brother were brought up in the community home. It's a formidable place that no child should ever be susceptible to. It's a daily reminder that they no longer have a place. As fate would have it, her brother was reaped the last year he was eligible. When he was killed in the initial bloodbath, something ignited within her damaged soul. Those Games left her to slowly deteriorate into the down-trodden, fire-spitting woman she is today. And I can't say that I blame her because it's not hard to hate the world we live in, what with the Capitol dictating every move and people dying of starvation all around us, but we're lucky. We get to work in the warm bakery and always have some kind of food - no matter how stale or burned. She doesn't see things the same way, I guess.
Despite our differences, though, the little blonde-haired blue eyed boy in my arms needs our guidance and shelter.
As long as you live, Peeta, I think. I won't let anything happen to you. I'll keep you safe, I promise.
