Reflections of a Housewife (2):

Why I love sleeping pills

Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership of anything. Well, except my dignity; and this fic. That's the extent of it.

Author's note: Oh my goodness! Thank you so much for your amazingly kind words about my previous chapter! I've decided to follow your advice, my dear readers. You've really put on the pressure, so here it is! Another Peeta-licious POV. Also, I've been trying to get "Panem Pickup Lines" to trend. They're basically pickup lines inspired by The Hunger Games. Here's one: "Is Cinna your stylist? Cuz gurl, you on FIRE!" Lol. So if you have anything better, feel free to include it in your comments or your own fics. Just make it trend! :D

The spring has begun. The primroses were in full bloom, and a bunch of the blossoms were placed in a vase, on the nightstand. Katniss had them brought inside. I smile every time she glances at them, which lets me know we have a second chance. Recovery is slow, but it's still progress. My hysterics aren't as intense, but the frequency isn't lessening as quickly as we had hoped. Katniss has been sleeping easier and the children never have trouble dozing off, but I wish I could say the same thing. It's been getting harder and harder to explain my inconsistent moods, and their mother's dark eyes. Someday, we'll have to show them the memory book and explain the story of why we have such trouble finding peace at night.

My memories are almost fully recovered. Every now and then, a moment from my past, drifts into my consciousness, a vivid yet fleeting image. I quickly sketch them for fear that I might forget. I sometimes have spells where I forget where I am, or people's names and I try not to panic. I hold on to things that I value, or something that I would find familiar. I think of it, and cling to it like a harness, or a lifesaver. Usually, that something is Katniss. So that night, I try to think of the primroses again. I try to imagine their soft petals and fragrant perfume to calm my mind. I can't. I shut my eyes tightly, to the point where it hurts, and I feel a warm, assuring touch on my cheek. I open my eyes. She's worried about me. Her eyebrows are wrinkling against one another, a telltale sign that she's upset. I smile to reassure her. She doesn't seem satisfied, as she continues to study my face. Her hand rests on mine, our bodies so close as we lay on the bed together. I kiss her lovely lips, hoping to appease her. She averts her gaze, still unsure, but lays her head on the pillow and dozes off. I do the same thing.

I try to find a position where I would feel comfortable, but I can't. My prosthetic leg makes me a little clumsier. It's strong, but not quite as sturdy as my human leg. No wonder Katniss says I'm a nightmare to hunt with. My dream drifts into how I got that leg. That was the worst of all. Not again. I can now remember my hopeless thoughts as the last days of the Game passed…

"Find shelter, no matter what happens, hide and maybe it won't be so bad…"

I still recall that torturous pain I felt after I got cut trying to save her. At first, I wasn't sure why I did it. Of course I loved her, but everyone at home, all the people I cared about told me to do whatever it took to save myself. But I knew that wasn't what Haymitch wanted. "I could really use some help right now. Please, just this once. Have some mercy." My eyes looked above, and searched for the eyes of the people of Panem.I knew there were sponsors out there. But somewhere deep inside, I was sure. I wasn't chosen. I was just a tool to help her survive.

I followed my own advice and hid. "It's just like fondant and buttercream icing. Camouflage is a piece of cake." My wound was starting to look disgusting, to the point where looking at it was more painful than touching it. It was a million times worse than an oven burn. I wonder how gorgeous I look to everyone at home. "Smile to the cameras. They love you!" That's what Portia used to say. I'm not so sure if the cameras even want to be associated with me anymore. My leg is just… messed up. I covered myself with sticks, twigs, leaves and dead plants. I just stayed there. I tried to make do with what I could, eating the remains of my rations, and well, staying alive. "A little food would be nice": Still no response. I've eaten the last of my food and gave up hope. I began to feel weak beyond description, and my wounds were covered in bacteria-infested grime. My body was on fire, and not in a good way. What a great way to go, huh? I should've just died by getting murdered by the Careers. That would've made me look a little less like a failure like I do now.

These images blackened and faded, and took me to a few days after that.

I heard some rustling in the woods. "Peeta!" She was looking for me, after they announced that two people could actually win. It was then that I stopped hating her for what she did to me. I still kind of resented her for it. She has no idea what effect she can have on people. For the next few days, she took care of me. My doubts about her slowly drifted away. "…you can kiss me anytime you feel like it" I honestly hoped she would. But through it all, I still felt hollow. Was she doing it to take advantage of the new rule? Did she expect me to recover quickly enough to join her fight? As the days went by, I began to dismiss those thoughts. But I had to be sure. Kisses for the cameras and sponsors weren't enough, even though I seriously enjoyed them. I wanted her to trust me a little more and to let her know about the feelings I had for her. I told her about that time in school where she sang. But inside, I was still asking myself so many had I sacrificed so much? Could I trust her?

The Capitol announced a feast. Katniss seemed bent on going. She had hope that they had the medicine to cure me. I knew I still had a duty to Haymitch to protect her, so I had to refuse. We argued until we were purple. She continued to nurse me, and she handed me some treats that were suspiciously sweet. Little did I know that I was being sedated. She had a cunning gleam in her face. Her expression tensed as I commented on the unusual flavor. Everything was black.

She tricked me. She lied to my face, and she ran off against my wishes. Why wasn't I upset? Because that was the nudge I needed. I should no longer be unsure about her. She risked her life, and was willing to look like the bad guy to save me. She was afraid I was angry for doing that, too. Why? Why would she want me to forgive her, now that I am eternally indebted to her? How could I still be mad, after she did such an unbelievable thing? She looked so cute too. Guilty about what she did, like a puppy with her tail between her hind legs. Oh look, she refuses to look me in the eye. How adorable! I pretended not to notice, because she pretty much had enough problems. At that moment, I felt safe. I didn't know how it was going to end. But in the midst of my humiliation and pain, for a short while, I felt complete.

I woke up.

Light streamed from the windows. My eyes fluttered open. Katniss was still asleep. A small smile was curved on her sweet mouth. I got up as quietly and gently as I could. I scrambled for the memory book. I took it and went to the living room to browse through it. I looked for that precise moment when she drugged me. It wasn't there. The memory book is where we've kept the wonderful things that people have done to us. It was our own form of gratitude. It just had to be there. I sketched what I half dreamed and half remembered. I drew myself in that dark, rocky cave. I drew my messed up leg. I drew the shadow of her lovely form in the light of the caves mouth, walking away defiantly, to save my life. She looks truly beautiful.

"Hi, Peeta Bread. G'morning. Did you sleep well?"

She began calling me that two weeks after we got married. She finally came up with a nickname for me. When Haymitch began using it , it was BEYOND embarrassing. Somehow, she makes it okay.

"Yes Sweetie. I did. You were in it. You were so hot. I just… couldn't get my hands off you."

I said that in my most seductive, Finnick-y voice. I could tell she was faintly blushing.

"Not in front of the kids."

She said that between her teeth. How I loved to embarrass her like this. I smirked as I told her that they were still asleep and I assured her we were alone. I put extra emphasis on the word "alone" as if to give a certain hint. I'm not sure if she caught on. You never really know with her, about those things. I laughed and she turned a deeper shade of red. After I caught my breath, I patted on the space on the couch next to me. She promptly sat. I showed her my newest sketch. She smiled. She leaned her head on my shoulder. She wasn't worried about me anymore.

I'm not really sure when I fell for her. In countless interviews, I've confirmed that it was that beautiful day at school when she sang. I kind of did that to sell it, you know? But in reality, you can never do that. You can never say with words, or pinpoint the exact moment when you truly fall for someone. You just end up realizing it when it's too late. I've found out that it kind of creeps up on you. I can never say when it began, the kind of unwavering devotion I'm sure I have now. But I can tell you when I was absolutely certain. It was when I tasted that suspiciously sweet flavor called Love.

Again, thank you for all that encouraging feedback. I'm considering another chapter, but I'm not so sure. So yeah, please comment. ANY suggestions are welcome. Thanks! May the odds be ever in your favor!