A/N: This is my first story! I really hope you all enjoy it, and feel free to review with any suggestions or criticism; I promise I will do my best to take any advice you offer.

Crash, the title of this story comes from the song "Crash" by You Me at Six. This chapter, "Hope's on a Frayed Rope" was inspired by "Did My Doe, Pt. 1" by The Matches.
Each chapter will have a title inspired by a song and I want to say now that I obviously do not own any of them, but I will provide the title and artist so anyone can look them up.

I also don't own The Hunger Games, I only draw inspiration from Suzanne Collins' lovely series.

I wake up in a sweat, my mind racing. I can see that Peeta and Gale are awake, but I know I'm better off being alone to deal with the tormenting memories of today's loss. I keep quiet, not wanting them to know I'm awake. They think I'm asleep, or rather still asleep. I wish I were, but the chilling image of Boggs' legs being blown off and his last words to me were suffocating me, and even when I woke up it was hard to catch my breath.

I lie awake, trying to focus my attention on anything but our losses today. I turn to Finnick. So far, he's the only one who's had even the slightest reprieve from this tormenting war. I know he deserves it after the years of prostitution and emotional hell to which the Capitol has subjected him, but I cannot help the jealousy and anger flooding my body right now.

We suffered, together. The agony of knowing Annie and Peeta were being tortured by the Capitol, purely as a means to break us. We experienced that. But I didn't get the break from that agony that he did. His Annie, his beautiful and mad Annie, came back still beautiful, mad, and sweet; but there. They had no doubts about their love or heart-aching longing, for they had each other again. But what did I get? My Peeta, so sweet, compassionate, and so in love with me was gone. How is that fair? This mutt, crushed with hatred, stands in front of me just waiting for the moment we're alone; waiting for the perfect moment to finish the job he started in his hospital room.

Peeta has many reasons to hate me. The pain I've caused him with our fake romance he thought was real is reason enough. But my Peeta could never hate me for that. No, my boy with the bread, who sacrificed himself time and time again for my well-being, could never hate me. Anger, resentment, disappointment, any emotion but hate.

A wave of shivers racks my body; I hear Boggs' last words, "Kill Peeta," echoing in my mind. This would be at least possible if I knew my Peeta was gone; if it weren't for the small moments of hope when, just barely I see the sparkle in his blue eyes that tells me he's there. I could never kill this mutt if there's even the slightest chance Peeta, my Peeta was still in there. I just wish there was a way I could know. A way I could…

"Katniss loves you," Gale's words snap my head back toward him and Peeta, quickly leaving my thoughts behind as reality grips me. I strain to hear their conversation. Eavesdropping is not something of which I'm proud, but I really feel it's necessary when other people are discussing your feelings. I can never seem to hear Peeta's responses, but Gale's words ring loud and clear. The way he's so sure about my feelings really pisses me off. Who does he think he is to talk about my feelings for me, when I don't even know how I feel! I'm so angry that I almost want to yell at him, but then I'd miss this conversation, which is getting more and more gripping by the word.

Gale recounts our years of friendship, his longing for more, and his realization of my love for Peeta. Although I'm angry, I can't help but notice the pain and conviction in his voice. It's stirring up all kinds of emotions in me, mostly worry; but also something else— some strange emotion that aches in my chest but makes a slight smile creep across my face.

Then Gale brings up our kiss. I'm drawn back to that day in the woods of 12 and the unexpected feel of his lips on mine. I was so surprised I barely even kissed him back. But then, when he was whipped, I kissed him and told him I loved him. I truly thought I did, but everything changed after the Quell. Before and during the Quell, I thought I loved Gale, but I never even began to figure out my feelings for Peeta.

I feel a pang in my chest as I think of those kisses with Peeta that weren't for cameras; the ones on the beach during the Quell that made me hungry for more, and the way he would hold me at night to keep the nightmares away, and when his heart stopped at the force field. At the memory, all the air is knocked out of my body and I make no effort to choke back my silent tears; as if the pain and heartache crashed into my body again, still as fresh as when he finally took another breath.

Maybe my kisses and affection towards Gale were out of obligation because he was in pain. And maybe, even though Peeta and I were forced to play the part of star-crossed lovers, my feelings weren't always forced. I know his were always real, and maybe I just never realized mine because I was too busy trying to save everyone. Maybe now, knowing I can't save everyone, I can give in to my feelings. Peeta, the boy with bread, no my boy with bread, will come back to me if it is the last thing I do. I silently thank Gale for being the best friend I could ever have, and helping me to realize this.

Before I go back to sleep, I turn once more to Peeta. A small glow illuminates his face, and as I gaze into his eyes, knowing he can't see me, I notice small tears welling up in his eyes. He makes no effort to wipe them away as he barely choked out, "Thank you," to Gale. Gale pats his back and says, "Welcome back, bread boy." I can't help but smile as I drift off to sleep; the hope from this conversation being enough to block out the losses of the previous day.