A/N Okay this might be...a bit short because I'm in a rush. LOL not like I have fans anyway. My take on what Peeta was thinking before the Games started. Like...not when they left, but like the night before. The night before, meaning after the roof thing with our Girl on Fire. FIYAH! ...anyways, enjoy, R&R and go to my profile to read my other one-shot. It's good, I swear. I think.
Peeta's POV
I couldn't sleep. Who could? Probably Cato. Cato and all those other heartless Careers. Eager to kill on command. Me? I just want to go home. But of course, they wouldn't let me. The past nights, my nightmares have always been about the Hunger Games, or the Dark Days. Flashbacks of the past, and sneak peeks of the future. They were horrible. Seeing massacres, murders and assassinations before my very eyes. Watching kids being forced to kill each other in the horrible event Panem calls The Hunger Games. Seeing the Capitol residents guffaw with amusement as they see children aged 12-18 suffer. Even seeing myself die in the Games. But that's not the most traumatizing. It was me winning. Everyone knows that there can only be one victor. And me winning meant that my fellow District partner had to be eliminated. Her lifeless body up in those hovercrafts, getting her ready to go back to District Twelve, where her mother will cry over another death of a loved one, where her sister who is only twelve will have to try and support herself and her mother.
I quickly shake the thought out of my head. I am not supposed to be thinking about that. I am supposed to be getting sleep. I need all the energy I can get. I climb out of bed and start pacing around my room, trying to tire myself out. My mind, being persistent, refuses to tire. Why can't you just make me sleep? I ask myself. Oh, great. I'm talking to myself now. The Hunger Games has driven me to insanity and it hasn't even begun. I mentally slap myself. Stop talking to yourself. I say to myself. Damn, I'm doing it again. Stop it! Hopefully I'm not as crazy as Effie. I don't blame her for being crazy or something. She was raised like that.
After about ten minutes of pacing and having arguments with myself, I get tired of it. But not tired enough to fall asleep. I sigh. I start looking for a button on the wall. I find it and I click it. "Warm milk," I speak into the microphone. In less than a minute, warm milk is delivered. I heard it helped people sleep, so why not, I tried it. Surprisingly, it helped, but not much. I went into my bathroom to wash my face. I took a good look at myself in the mirror. Something white was around my mouth. I touched it, then tried to taste it. Milk. I groaned. I turned the tap on and let the water pour through my hands before splashing my face, making sure to get the milk off my mouth, chin, cheek, wherever it was. I dried my face with a nearby towel and checked myself in the mirror again. Clean. Okay, that was good. I grabbed a glass and gargled a few times. Soon, I was starting to feel sleepy. Sleepy enough that I couldn't do much, but not enough for me to drop dead right now. Figure of speech, of course. Good enough.
I walked out of the bathroom and climbed into my bed, savoring what would probably be the last time I would sleep in something comfortable. I still toss and turn though. But eventually I sleep after what seems like a half hour.
~*Basically I'm going to skip this part where there's breakfast, traveling, eating more food, yeah. TIME WARP TO RIGHT BEFORE THE GAMES, MEANING THE RISING THINGY THINGY*~
Portia and I sit in silence, savoring our last moments as tribute and stylist together before I head into certain death. "Sixty seconds," a voice booms from hidden speakers. "Good luck, Peeta," she tells me. "And...please try to stay alive."
"No promises," I tell her. She gives a small chuckle. "Whatever. Now go get 'em, Mellark," she says as she pushes me onto the rising pad. The door closes, sealing the tube. Portia can't hear me, nor can I hear her. She knows that, so she doesn't say anything. Thirty more seconds until this pad rises, and still a minute after that for the tributes to get ready for the Games. So I think of a plan as fast as I can. That's easy. I never planned on winning this thing, but only one thing came into my mind at the Reaping, and it still is untl now. Making sure Katniss will win this. I have older brothers anyway, and my mother hardly cares for me. Only my father would be saddened by my death, but I trust my brothers-as much as I loathe them- to make my father proud. I feel the ground shake, and I start to rise. I shake away all thoughts. Focus on two things. The Hunger Games, and protecting Katniss. Focus, Peeta. Focus.
A gust of air hits me as I rise up from the confined tube. I take a few seconds to survey my surroundings. A kind of cliff. A lake. And a forest, which I'm sure Katniss will be sprinting after. I then take in the Cornucopia. I large golden horn with a gaping mouth. All kinds of weapons are stacked up. Something silver glistens near the edge of the pile. A bow and a quiver filled with a dozen arrows. I'm sure Katniss will be after those, but it's too dangerous. Haymitch told me to steer clear of it, and I'm positive he told Katniss. I look over to Katniss, about five tributes away from me. I stare at her until she notices me. Once she does, I shake my head. A look of confusion flashes over her face, until she knows what I meant. A blank expression replaces her previous one, and I know what she's doing. She's weighing her options. I wanted to yell at her that now wasn't the time to do it, five seconds until the Games start. Four. Three. Two. One. The gong sounds and I immediately run for the forest. I risk taking a glance back, and Katniss got off to a late start. I couldn't stay and watch for more though, I was already risking too much.
I finally found a place to settle down. Nobody knows this, but I already made a deal with the Careers. I still hate them, but I'm doing this to protect Katniss.
To protect the one I love.
A/N HOORAY. I'M DONE. It took me a long time (one hour) to do it, but you guys just don't care, right? RIGHT. Send me reviews and I'll give you a cookie! Or else I'm getting some nightlock and feeding them to you and your dog at night. REVIEW.