Katniss POV

I woke screaming from a nightmare. Peeta's arm comforted me, but that wasn't enough.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked me.

I shuddered, and then began quietly. "The mutts were after them."

"Who?" Peeta prodded.

I gulped. "The kids," I said as I began sobbing.

"They're fine," he said soothingly.

"How do you know?" I screamed. "How do you know that they aren't dead right now?"

Peeta went silent for a minute. "Do you want me to go get them?"

I nodded.

"Wait a second," he said. With that, he left the room.

I waited five seconds, then ten seconds, then thirty seconds. "Peeta," I said worriedly. When he didn't reply, I yelled, "Peeta!"

"Don't worry, I got them," he replied.

In stumbled Peeta with his jostled hair, pushing in Glory and Timmy.

Glory rubbed her eyes, while Timmy looked as if he was going to fall asleep standing up.

I raced out of bed, and embraced all three of them. Tears of relief were streaming down my face. I led them towards our bed, and lay them down. Me, Glory, Timmy, and then Peeta.

"Why do you scream?" Glory asked me. It was a innocent question, but it had a lot more meaning to it than it seemed to.

"Nightmares," I whispered.

Glory paused for a second. "Is it because of the Hunger Games?"

"Yes," I said, tears threatening to spill over my eyelashes. My baby, asking about the Hunger Games, knowing that we played a part in them.

I stroked Glory's hair and gently braided it as she started to drift back into sleep. Then, I tried to stretch my arms so that it would cover all three of my family, and slept peacefully.

Glory POV

I went into the kitchen to get breakfast when I saw my father sitting at the table.

"Hi!" I exclaimed.

He turned to me, his eyes dark, losing their friendly blue glow. They started dilating. He stood up, and cornered me, putting his two big hands around my neck.

"You killed my family!" he shouted.

I looked into his eyes. "Are you joking?" I asked, with a hint of a laugh.

"No," he responded furiously.

"I didn't kill your family!"

"Don't you dare lie to me! You are a mutt!" Father seemed to realize something. He looked into my eyes. "Your eyes are wrong."

"Excuse me?"

"Your eyes, they're supposed to be gray, not blue." Father paused for a moment. "You're not Katniss, are you?"

I shook my head.

"Then who are you and what are you doing here?"

"I'm Glory, and I live here," I said, my voice starting to suppress fear.

"Who are your parents?" he asked fiercely.

"My mother is Katniss-" I began to say. At the sound of her name, he tightened his hands, squeezing the air out of my lungs.

"Your mother is the traitor herself, huh?" Then he stopped. "Who's your father, Gale?"

"No, it's not. You're-"

His grip tightened even more. I struggled to breathe. I felt myself starting to go limp.

Mother came in through the door, carrying a hunting bag full of game. She saw what Father was doing, and instantly ripped his hands of my neck.

I inhaled deeply as Mother started calming Father down, but I saw that she was suffering a fate similar to mine. I sat at the table, my head in my hands, with tears streaming down my face. Finally, Father released his grip, and sighed wearily. He looked at Mother, and started to figure out what had just happened. He then looked at me, and shook his head in disbelief. As Father started making his way towards me, I looked up at him, and ran. I ran up the stairs, clumsily making my way towards my room. I seated myself at the foot of my bed.

I looked at the walls, which were a rusty orange color, which was supposed to resemble a sunset, but Father could not find the colors he wanted. The thought of his name just made me tear up again. I looked at myself in the mirror. A girl, with red, puffy eyes, and bruises on her neck. My fingers instinctively went up to my bruises. They were dark, starting to turn black.

"Are you okay?" Mother asked. I didn't even notice her enter the room. That must be her hunter's step.

"Yeah." I pretended not to notice the bruises on her neck as well.

"Be honest," she coaxed.

"Well, it's just that, every night, Father comes into my room and tells me that he loves me. And today, he tried to kill me. Was he lying?" I asked, my voice quavering.

"No! He wasn't lying! Father does love you, but sometimes he has, um, different memories that I am evil. Because he saw you, and you know how much you look like me, he thought you were me and tried to kill you," Mother said soothingly.

"Will the memories ever go away?" I asked.

Mother looked at me with sad eyes. "No."

At that moment, Father walked through the door. "Listen, Glory, sorry-"he started to say.

"You," I said with a painful voice. "You tried to kill me! If you truly love me, then you wouldn't have tried to suffocate me!" I yelled. Without looking back, I ran. I ran out the back door, beyond the Meadow, into the forest, huddled, leaning on a tree trunk.

There, I cried.