My mind comes too, before my body does. I can feel the softness of the comforter on my bed beneath me. Something heavy and warm is draped over my waist. My body feels stiff, like I've been laying in this position for a long time. I finally manage to open my eyes, to see that I'm laying on my bed and that the lights are out. I look to my bedside table to the clock and read, 9:35 pm. I move my arm down and brush, what is on my waist. I look down to see it's Peeta's arm. As carefully as I can, I roll around to face his sleeping form. Only when I do face him, he isn't sleeping, his blue eyes are staring right into mine. He lifts his arm from my waist and brings his hand up to cup my cheek. I nuzzle into his hand and the warmth it creates. Peeta smiles lazily, but his eyes hold a look of concern. "What's wrong Peeta?" My voice breaks the silence and comes out more worried then intended. Peeta props himself up on his elbow and stares at me. I slowly sit, stretching my limbs. "How long?" Is all he says. Peeta is now sitting up as well, his brows furrowed in concern. I look down sheepishly at my hands. My long brown hair, falling down to cover my face from his view. "How long has what been?" My voice is shaky, as I try to sound confident. Peeta gets up and comes around to my side of the bed and kneels in front of me. He pushes my hair behind my ears. I close my eyes and breathe deeply. Peeta hooks a finger under my chin and tilts it up a little so my grey eyes can look into his endless blue ones. He drops his hand. "How long have you been having these panic attacks?" Peeta's voice is stern but gentle. I can feel the heat rise in my cheeks and know I must be beet-red. I look anywhere but in Peeta's eyes. I started chewing the right side of my mouth, where the tissue was scarred from restless chewing during my first games. My fingers fiddled with the hem of my shirt, as I tried to think of the right words to say. "Katniss, please tell me. I want to help you, I won't judge you" Peeta grabbed my forearms, gently and gave me a reassuring squeeze. I look into his eyes and quickly look away. I turn my face and look at the light hairs on his arm. I take a few deep breaths, to steady my now shaking hands. "Awhile.. Almost three months now," My voice is quite, just above a whisper. I can feel my cheeks burn brighter and tears I didn't know I had been holding in roll down my cheeks. Peeta looks shocked, frozen even. He seems to break the daze he was in and look at me again. His hand comes up and brushes the tears from my cheeks. I push his hands away and get up to leave. I make it to the closed door, my hand on the handle, when I feel his hands on my shoulders. He spins me around and pushes me against the door. His look is one of hurt. "Why wouldn't you tell me? Why would you keep it bottled in?" His voice is low and his eyes search my face as if the answer is written there. His hands push my shoulders into the door more. Peeta drops his head, but his hands remain where they are. My mind is reeling for the answer to give Peeta, but none of them seem right. The pain of being squeezed makes me stop looking for the answer. Peeta's hands are pushing my shoulders even harder into the wooden door. His head snaps up, his pupils are dilated. The one thought that reaches my mind quickest. Oh no, not now… not today please no. I cant escape this hijack attack.