I though that after almost a year, I'd be over these god forsaken nightmares. I thought wrong. I'm prepared for the worst when I get in bed every night, but tonight they're especially bad. Now that I've got my strength back, I've started running. Usually, if I go right before sunset, I can tire myself out so that I don't wake up too often. Well, today the snow piled up so high that I could hardly push my door open, so I didn't get any exercise. When I hit the pillow, my mind is still racing, like it's trying to make up for the fact that my legs aren't. After tossing and turning and trying to get comfortable, my eyes finally close and I fall into a fitful sleep.

Before me, I see a line of people stretching so long I can't make out all of their faces. But somehow, I know this group all too well. It's all the people who's lives I've taken. I have my quiver slung over my shoulder and my bow in my hand. I don't know why. Then, slowly, I feel myself raise the bow and notch an arrow. It was involuntary. I try to fight it, but it's like some force outside my body is controlling me. I desperately attempt to keep my arms to my sides, but I start to shake, and eventually I become too weak. The force wins, and I start sinking arrows into hearts. I'm killing these people all over again. Tears roll down my cheeks, hot and steady until the scene changes. I see Peeta, strapped to a chair, looking battered and bruised like he was when I saw him on TV in District 13. Men swarm around him, punching him, cutting him, injecting him with poison. I feel like I'm trapped in a glass cage. I bang on the walls with all my might, trying to break them down, trying to save Peeta. Eventually, he's released, and he comes for me. He breaks the glass with ease, but something tells me I should run. So I do. But he's too fast, and part of me wants to be caught. He tackles me to the ground and raises a gun. Something that sounds remotely like my voice pleads for mercy, but he pulls the trigger and the scene changes again. I'm in the Capitol, running through the streets, calling her name. She's nowhere to be found. My heart burns and my legs ache, but I can't stop searching. Finally, I catch a glimpse of her blonde braids. But it's not only Prim I see. It's Rue as well, and their clinging to each other. I start running towards them, but I'm too late, the bombs are already falling. They explode, but I run straight into the fire. I feel it engulf my skin. It burns. I run on, further into the flames, until I see Prim and Rue. They're still holding each other, standing up, eyes wide in fear. But, they're dead. I reach my hand out to them, but they crumble to ash as I scream bloody murder.

The sound of my own cries rouses me from the cycle of nightmares. I viciously wipe the tears from my cheeks and a terrible shiver shoots through my body. I pull the blanket up to my chin, but I'm sweating. Sweat soaks my clothes, my hair, my pillow. I force my eyes closed again, but I immediately throw them open. I cannot handle another one of those nightmares. Not tonight. I hate doing this. I hate admitting that I need him for anything, but I know what I have to do. I pull on my boots and coat, force my door open, and head across the street to Peeta's house. I knock lightly on the door, then harder, then I ring the doorbell. His doorbell is annoyingly loud, and sure enough, it wakes him. I hear his footsteps coming down the stairs and I pull my jacket tighter around my body. He opens the door wearing nothing but his boxers and looks slightly shocked to see me, hair tousled and eyes drowsy with sleep. But, he lets me in quickly.

"Get in here, it's below zero outside."

He shuts the door behind me and wraps me in a hug. I don't have to say anything. He knows.

"Come on," he says soothingly.

I kick off my shoes, drop my coat, and follow him up the stairs to his bedroom. We climb in bed and I immediately reach for him again. I grab him and position myself so that I'm as close to him as humanly possible. I curl in a ball and press myself against his chest. He rests his chin on my head and comfortingly runs his hand along my back. Still, every time I close my eyes, I see the horrors that lurk behind my lids. I'm so tired. My body craves sleep, but I can't allow that. I start to shake, and I know I'm about to cry, so I turn my body away from Peeta. He felt it, though. He wraps his arms tightly around my waist and pulls me back into him. I try to hold in the tears, but that only makes me shake more. Eventually, I let them out, along with a melody of sobbing and choking noises. The sweating kicks in again.

"Katniss... Katniss?"

"I'm sorry," I say.

"No. Don't be. I'll be right back, okay?"

"No! Don't leave. Please. Please don't leave me."

"I was just going to go make you some tea."

"Let me come."

"Whatever you want."

We get up and head down the stairs in silence. I sit at the counter and let Peeta fill a cup with hot water and put a tea bag in it. I'm hot, inexplicably hot, but I drink it all in the dark kitchen.

"Thank you," I mumble when I'm finished.

We drag ourselves back upstairs and I sit down on his bed. He comes over and touches my arm.

"You're really warm," he says.

I nod and he disappears into the bathroom, retuning quickly with a cold towel. He climbs back in and holds it to my head. It cools me down nicely, and soon I start to feel cold. I tell him this, and he removes the cloth as I slide under the covers. I feel the tea kicking in and my eyelids grow heavy as Peeta rubs the warmth back into my arms. I fall asleep holding one of his hands while his other one twirls my hair. The sleep doesn't last. I don't remember my dream, but I do know that my face is damp and Peeta is shaking me awake.

"Wake up. You're okay. It's okay. It wasn't real."

I sit up and nod, pulling him in to hug me, desperate to feel the realness of him, the curve of his neck, the small dimples on his back, the bulk of his muscular arms. I don't know why, but I burst into tears again right there on his shoulder. He breaks the embrace and looks me in the eye. Then, his lips are on mine and were kissing passionately. I don't even question it. We've kissed before. Not since we've started hanging out again back in 12, but still, I knew it would happen some time. I didn't know I would enjoy it so much. I get up on my knees and wind my hands in his tangled hair, pushing his face closer to mine. He leans back on the pillows and then I'm on top of him, refusing to part our lips. I doubt he wants to either. But, like all good things, the kisses eventually cease, and I lay still on top of his body. His heart beats next to mine, lulling me to sleep once more. I roll off him a little, but I still have an arm and a leg draped over him, and my head rests on his chest. I listen to the beating of his heart. I remember the feeling of his lips. I take in all of his warmth. I know that I'll be okay. I am safe now. I can sleep. And I do.