Thank you for the Reviews, Favorites & Follows, I sincerely appreciate it as I was so very nervous being a first time poster! Chapters to follow won't be this quick, the first 2 have basically been done for the past year I was just too unsure of myself to post them. I still don't own anything, just having fun!
I wake to the most horrific sound of my mothers shrill voice the following morning, "Peeta! Wake up, you won't be sleeping all fucking day here boy! Get your ass up and go help your Father open the Cafe." I groan and roll over adjusting to the dull ache of my un-leg, picking up my phone I see it's 5:45. Well, at least she let me sleep in, I've gotten up at 4:30 almost every morning for as long as I can remember, so an extra hour is unbelievable.
I shower, dress and make my way to the Cafe with only minimal additional shit from mother. Just before I stepped out I saw her take her nice little handful of pills and wander down the hall towards her room, a nice little assortment of pain killers, anti-depressants, anti-anxiety, muscle relaxers and a whole slew of others. She has more doctors than an entire generation of hypochondriacs, they give her whatever she wants as long as she pays the premium.
I make it to the Cafe by 6:30 and the morning rush is in full swing, the smell of rich coffees and pastries filling my nose and bringing a million memories in a mere moment. I see my father has hired a woman about my age with piercing green eyes and flowing dark hair. I make my way to the employees only area, she must notice my 'Mellarks Cafe' shirt as she sends me a shy smile with no hassle as I pass her.
My Father, Uncle Chaff and another man I don't recognize are already hard at work creating artful pastries, bagels, croissants and other breakfast items when I walk in. Dad and Chaff look up and greet me as I enter while the other man continues on as if I don't exist. I grab an apron as my Dad heads over to wash his hands, "Come here son I'd like you to meet Pollux, he's been giving us a hand around here since you've been, well, since you've been away." He finishes with a sad smile, it's no secret he didn't want me to join the military, but it's not like he provided a very functional environment for me to want to stay in either. Granted he never abused us, he never did anything to protect us either. I walk over to Pollux and nod my head in greeting (shaking hands while working with food and your hands isn't very conductive after all) "Hey man, nice to meet you I'm Peeta" I say, but instead of returning the sentiment he turns to my father who slowly proceeds to start signing. I can pick out the letters of my name having taken a semester of American sign language in high school but that's about all I can get out of it. He in turn smiles and signs back to Dad, who then translates to me; "He says welcome home Peeta, and thank you for your service." I cringe inwardly but try to paste on a grateful smile, it's the one thing I'm sure I'll never get used to, being thanked for giving my leg up. I mean it's not like I was able to do much good in the short time I was abroad, I didn't save any lives, only took them. More than I want to count, I honestly just want to forget.
After that awkward exchange dad puts me to work frosting cupcakes. I'm grateful, it's simple work that my hands will never forget. I pop in my ear-buds and set my iPhone to one of my random playlists, soon all the cupcakes are frosted and ready for the afternoon rush. With that done there isn't much else for me to do, the cafe has always pretty much been a 4 man operation, 1 out front and 3 in the back, it used to be perfect when Mother still handled the customers, Dad and 2 of us boys back here, one of us with a day off. When Phoenix graduated and left Pacer and I were left with no days off. Then when Pacer graduated and did the same he hired Uncle Chaff. I suppose when I left he had to hire Pollux, I'm not sure when Mother gave up and he hired the pretty girl out front, but it's been a long time coming. Mother was always very short with the customers, I'm sure if it weren't for Dads skill with pastries we never would have had a repeat customer.
With nothing else to do and the morning rush gone I decide to acquaint myself with the pretty brunette out front, she's a shy woman who has just turned 21 she says. Her name is Annie and Dad hired her about a year ago when she was forced to drop out of college after her parents were killed in front of her during a home invasion, leaving her the soul provider for her 6 year old sister. She doesn't say anything else after that, seemingly lost in her own little world, I don't mind though it's kinda nice to have someone just as fucked up as me to just be quiet with. So thats what we do the next hour, just sit quietly lost in our own thoughts. Mine of mutilated bodies of adults and children alike, hers of her dead parents, maybe we wouldn't have been voted cutest couple in high school but we might just be able to lose ourselves for awhile in each other. Obviously now isn't the time to be entertaining these thoughts, but hey I'm single and lonely, what can I say.
When Dad comes out and sees us he asks if I'd be alright handling the customers the rest of the day, I'm not to keen on the idea but I agree anyway, anything is better than spending the rest of the day with Mother dearest. He sends Annie home and I'm left to deal with all the well wishers and welcome homers, I spend the rest of the afternoon blocking my thoughts as much as possible serving the customers their lunch orders. As I'm cleaning up the dine in area my phone rings, I don't recognize the number on the screen but answer anyway hoping for a wrong number or salesman I can release some verbal rage upon. It's not that I'm a violent or mean person, but something did snap in me overseas, I find my thoughts more consumed by anger than I'd like. Maybe it's a genetic thing that popped up late in life, Mothers anger DNA that is no longer suppressible, maybe it was the war, who knows.
Unfortunately it turns out to be Finnick, not that I don't like Finnick I just don't really feel like dealing with his effervescent, constantly jovial attitude right now. I'd much rather scream at a telemarketer. After the standard "welcome home" "thanks for writing asshole" standard crap he invites me to come check out the room for rent tomorrow evening, he says it's fully furnished so I won't have to spend much to move in, he'll even waive the deposit. I agree to stop by after work tomorrow, Finnick may not be the ideal roommate for me at this point but neither is my Mother.
I help close the bakery up and prep for the morning, it's only 7:30 when I get home so I do sit-ups for an hour before I take my prazosin and jump in the shower. Tomorrow is sure to be an interesting day I may as well get some sleep. Before I can make it from the bathroom to my bedroom Mother is on my ass. Shocking.
"I cooked a delicious meal for you boy aren't you at least going to pretend your not an ungrateful piece of shit and eat it?" She says through clenched teeth. Sometimes I wonder why a woman so vile didn't just abort me. I reply with a quiet "Sure" if for no other reason than to avoid conflict and get to bed before my meds make me faint or worse hallucinate. A delicious meal it is not, maybe I am ungrateful but exploded pizza roll mush isn't quite my idea of appetizing, but I've eaten worse so I choke it down before getting up to clear my dishes. Unfortunately Mother has other ideas sticking her foot out to trip me by my un-leg. I go down hard my mush plate and water glass shattering in my hands under the weight of my torso, excellent. "What the fuck is wrong with you shit for brains!" Mother screeches, "Haven't you learned how to walk on that fancy fucking leg yet? I at least thought the military would teach you how to walk right, Jeez I've bred nothing but a pack of fucking idiots. You make me fucking sick." she spits out before stalking out of the room. I look at my father while I pick up the pieces of glass and he is just staring into his plate as if it holds the answers. Coward, although I suppose I am no better. Believe it or not my Father used to be my hero, I looked up to him like any other son looks to his Father, but as I got older and he just sat there, he sort of fell off the pedestal I'd held him on for so long. Sometimes I wonder if he was always such a push over or if protecting his kids is just something he gave up on.
After I pick the shards of glass from my palms and change my filth shirt I finally succumb to a very deep dark sleep, thankfully with no nightmares. Tonight anyway.