Chapter Two: Like Tragic Poetry
Peeta's POV
I love her. I've loved her since we were barely out of our toddler years. And I just watched her volunteer for her little sister.
After watching her for years - in a totally non-creepy way - I've come to love her for her selflessness. The way she sacrifices everything for her sister. I used to think that trait would make her a great mother. But today I realize it'll only keep up apart. She'll be thrown in the games, and I'll have to watch her die. I mean, I guess she has a chance. But District 12 has only had one winner in our whole history. And he's a drunk now. Not much help coming from that end.
I watch as she walks up the stage, closer and closer to her death sentence, and I feel a little more of my heart being torn away. My stomach feels complete empty, like a pit that just keeps going. I want to throw up, to cry. And most people would probably think it silly of me. After all, we've never really said much to each other more than "Hey" or "Bye." No one understands though. Shoot, I barely understand.
Effie, our crazy District escort, shuffles over to the boy's reaping bowl, but I barely notice it. I'm too busy watching Katniss pretend not to cry.
"Peeta Mellark!"
I hear it faintly, but my brain barely registers it. I'm still focused on Katniss. But when I feel everyone's eyes on me, I realize. I'm going to the games.
How poetic. The girl I have secretly loved for my whole life volunteers for her sister the same year I get reaped. I guess we'll go in together, and die together. She will never know of my love for her, and I'll never know if something could have come of it. What a year. The Capitol citizens will have a lot of fun with these games, I'm sure.
I'd appreciate reviews, guys. Just to know if I'm doing good or bad or such. I've been really down about my writing lately. So, thanks for any reviews you leave. Hope you like it so far! ~ K.L.
