Don't Stop Believin'

by FannieForever15

Katniss has to deal with the burdens that accompany the Games; unfortunately, Peeta seems to be one of them. He becomes a danger to her when he sees her in flashbacks, and it's her choice to either find a way to cope or let the Games ruin her life once and for all. Post-Mockingjay.

The white, sparkling snow crunches under my dark russet leather boots as I briskly tread back toward my oversized house in District 12's Victors' Village. I was fortunate enough to stumble upon a rabbit in my travels; albeit diminutive in the midst of this freezing winter, I'm lucky that I found it, for it's been rough these past few weeks to catch any game. As blessed as I am to have the hunting skills that I've gathered over the years, they don't benefit me any if there are no animals about.

I approach the snow-covered steps of my house, smiling brightly because I know I will be greeted by a blue-eyed and blond-haired boy who warmed my heart and never failed to bring a smile to my face, even on my worst day. As I reach for the silver door knob with my gloved hand, I hear a faint noise that sounds as if someone had dropped something. It's probably just Peeta. Even though I love him to death, I will always abhor his clumsiness.

I make my way inside and deposit my rabbit into the sink momentarily while calling to Peeta. "Peeta, honey, I'm home! You've got to make me some cheese buns to go with the rabbit stew I'm making later." I smile amusedly at my teasing words, but my grin quickly falters when I receive no response. No snarky remark. No loving retort. Nothing at all.

"Peeta?"

Nothing.

The game in the sink is suddenly forgotten as I make my way across the room and ascend the stairs, worriedly calling Peeta's name again.

A grunt of pain resounds through the second story of the house, and I make a mad dash to our bedroom, pushing the wooden door ajar. The door pushes aside some remnants of glass from something, and I remember hearing something being dropped. "Pee—"

"You," he growls out. The glint of wrath that I catch in his eye as he turns his shaking frame toward me is an immediate tell-tale that this is not Peeta. This is not the man I love. This is the Capitol prisoner. This is the confused, innocent soul who'd been brainwashed into thinking that I was a mutt, a malicious beast of a monster, and now I was stuck in a room with him.