Sixteen year old Peeta Mellark was daydreaming again. He had just caught a glimpse of Katniss Everdeen passing by his window while he sat at the kitchen table doing homework. The sun glinted off her dark, shiny braid as she walked with a fierce determination that seemed to be recognizable only with her step. He put his books away and moved slowly upstairs to get changed into work clothes. He went into the kitchen, mind still racing with thoughts of this simple, yet alluring girl from the Seam. His father had once told him that he had been in love with her mother…he could see why. The Everdeen women had something special in them, like a song kept just below the surface always waiting to be sung.
"Peeta!" His mother shouted from the other room. She was having another headache today, which Peeta knew from experience meant stay out of the way. He timidly looked around the doorframe to see what she wanted.
"How many times, Peeta? How many? I have told you THREE times since you've been home to take this garbage out!"
"I'm sorry, Mom." Peeta scurried to get the garbage while trying his utmost to avoid his mother's heavy hand. As he was picking up the garbage she cuffed him on the back of his head. "Your behavior lately has been unacceptable. You've been slow, lazy, and unproductive. It needs to stop now. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry." Peeta ran out the door before she could do anything else. He took his time with the trash and slowly reentered the bakery to find his brother Mason at the table.
"Peeta, man, you better watch it today. I think Mom's getting really tired of you and fast." Mason was Peeta's 23 year old brother. He was tall, blonde, and handsome and was always quick to give his brother's grief on a daily basis. Hearing him sound serious made Peeta extra nervous about his mother. Mason was quick to torture his brothers himself, but he didn't enjoy when they were punished by his mother.
Peeta nodded curtly and ran through the door into the kitchen…running straight into his mother who was carrying a huge mixing bowl of flour.
"PEETA" She shrieked. "Stupid, foolish, insolent boy!"
Peeta was on the ground, covered in flour. "Get up, NOW!" She yelled. Mason whistled low, shook his head, and left the bakery giving Peeta a sympathetic look. Mrs. Mellark grabbed Peeta by the ear and hauled him to his feet. "Get the strap and go upstairs. Now." Her words were soft, which made them all the more dangerous.
Peeta's eyes widened in fear. "No, Mom, please…" Tears started to form in his eyes.
"Peeta. Don't make me tell you again."
Peeta groaned softly and went to the cupboard. Hanging from a solitary nail was a leather strap. Peeta took it off the wall with shaking hands and dragged his feet up the stairs to his small bedroom. He sat on the bed and covered his face with his hands. He heard a soft knock at his door that made him jump about a foot. But it wasn't his mother…it was his father.
Mr. Mellark came in the room with a sad expression in his eyes. "Son…" he started. His eyes caught the strap and took in the pitiful sight of his youngest boy quaking with fear on his bed. He crossed the room in two strides and held Peeta in his arms. He rubbed calming circles in his back and kissed the top of his head.
"Dad, please…" said Peeta.
"I know, son. But I can't. You should have been more careful. And you have been neglecting your chores lately."
"Dad…" moaned Peeta.
"I know it'll hurt, son, but you have had it coming. I'll come back to talk to you later, ok? I love you."
He closed the door quietly and was gone. He went to busy himself with baking. He couldn't stand the sound of one of his sons being punished.
Mrs. Mellark soon took his place in Peeta's bedroom. "I don't know what I did to deserve such an excuse for a son. " Peeta looked down at his feet. "Alright, Peeta, you know the drill. Bend over the bed."
Peeta shakily got to his feet and moved to the end of the bed. With a sigh, he stretched out over it, feeling very vulnerable and unprotected.
Mrs. Mellark grabbed the strap and folded it in half. She positioned herself at the bottom of the bed and took in the sight of Peeta with his head buried in his arms, already squirming slightly in anticipation of what was to come. She let him, hoping the anticipation would cause him the utmost discomfort. Then she swung the strap until it made contact, hard, with Peeta's backside. He arched his back slightly and made a muffled cry. She continued to rain down lick after lick while Peeta's cries got louder.
"Take your pants down."
Crying, Peeta unbuttoned his pants and slid them down to his ankles. He hissed when they made contact with his bruised skin. It took everything he had to make himself lie back down on the bed. The next strap made him cry out extremely loudly and he writhed about in agony. "Stay still" his mother commanded coldly. She gave him fifteen more licks with the belt. Peeta was sobbing on his bed. Mrs. Mellark went to leave the room.
"Mom…I'm sorr-"
"Be downstairs in five minutes, Peeta."
"Y-yes, ma'am…."
Mrs. Mellark left. Peeta curled into a ball on his side and cried. He didn't hear when his father came into the room and sat beside him on the bed. Mr. Mellark gently rubbed his back and gathered him up into his arms.
"D-d-dad…." Sobbed Peeta.
"I know, son, I know."
"I HATE her!"
Mr. Mellark grabbed his son's shoulders and forced him to look into his eyes. Peeta had tears streaming down his face.
"No, Peeta. You do not hate your mother. And I will never tolerate you speaking that way in this house or I will whip you myself. Do you understand me?"
Mr. Mellark rarely took this tone with his son and Peeta was taken by surprise.
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Now put your pants on and come downstairs."
"Ok."
Mr. Mellark turned to leave the room. He looked back at Peeta gingerly pulling pants over his backside. "Son?"
"Yeah, Dad?"
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
