OKAY GUYS! Before I do this, I need your help! I am going mind blank, and need ideas. Give me some for a One-Shot if you want, please! I'd give you credit and everything I just need help. THANK YOU GUYS FOR READING!

Okay, so in this chapter, it's kind of like a Finnick and Annie thing but with Peeta and Cato. Cato is forced to sell his body to the Capitol and if he doesn't they threaten to hurt Peeta.

PAIN- Cato's Point of View

I sigh, falling back on the soft couch. Most everything here seemed perfect in the Capitol. But it wasn't at all. Not without him here. I still remember everything about him. I run my finger over my lips and immediately remember his kisses. Their soft, genuine nature. The way he smiled into them. The salty taste of his tears when he found out I had to go away.

I brush my finger over my hand, immediately feeling his palm against it. Feeling the gentile kiss he left on it one night. Feeling the fabric of his shirt, drenched from the rain.

I run my hand through my hair, and that even reminds me of him. The way he yanked on it to tease me and how he ruffled it around to make me laugh. Even when he just played with it, wearing that beautiful grin of his that could light up an entire district.

I found myself sobbing as I curled up in a ball on the couch. Only he's ever seen me this way, and it wasn't even this bad. I don't think I'd ever cry like this around anyone. I probably lay here for an hour every night, contemplating suicide. If it weren't for him. I need to stay strong for him. I can't let them get me down, no matter how many girls throw themselves at me and no matter how much they hit me and abuse me for my actions. I'm their slave now. I can't disobey them, either. Because it won't ne me they hurt, it will be him.

I can't let them hurt him. He's to fragile and vulnerable. He'd break. And if he hurts, so do I. I need my baker from District Twelve. I need to protect him. Make sure no one puts the light in his eyes out. No one breaks his heart. Mine's already broken enough. I'm sure there's someone back in Twelve cradling him in their arms now, while I sit alone in this apartment, awaiting the Capitol to choose the next person who will use me as their toy, then throw me out.

I decide to write yet another letter to you. There are so many piled up at the desk in the corner. But the Capitol won't let me send them. They don't want me to have any contact with you at all. So I grab my pen and sloppily write down what I want to say to you on paper, even though tears are already drenching the page.

Dear Peeta,

I miss you. They're having me do the sickest things here. I need to see you again. It's not fair that we did it all together, made it out of the arena, and now they're keeping us apart because of our actions. You know I'd come back in a heartbeat. But if I even talk about you they'll rip your heart out. They're using you against me because they know I can't stand the thought of your pain anymore. You were hurt once, by my hands, and I promised myself I'd never let anyone hurt you again. All of these people... They don't understand. They'll never truly get why you and me so desperately needed me to get out together. Peeta Mellark, some day I will get out of this place, and I swear you and me can be together. And when that day comes, I promise I'll never leave your side again. After all, I'm yours, and you're mine. Nothing less and nothing more, right Loverboy? I love you. Never forget that.

Love,

Cato

It almost hurt writing it, because I knew it'd never be mailed. I bang my fist on the table, screaming on the inside and out, until something kicks at my door.

"Shut up in there, will you!" A cold voice yells. I just resume sobbing on the desk, letting out a few shrill shrieks, only to be answered by the frigid voices of the Capitols citizens.

I send it out, expecting to get the letter back the next week and another one attached telling me not to do this anymore, with a signature from President Snow himself.

But surprisingly I don't. In fact, I get one from him.

I almost want to scream out in joy when I get it. I quickly tear the envelope away, revealing your neat cursive handwriting.

Dear Cato,

Come back. Please make it soon. The pain of you not being next to me to hold me after my nightmares or to stop making me fear the woods is far worse than a cut in the leg. I need to feel your arms wrapped around me again. Your warm breaths hitting my nose. Everything makes me think of you and it all hurts me like a million daggers thrust into my chest. I've locked myself away at home, and I won't talk to anybody anymore. Now I know this probably won't work but if you can, try calling me... I need to hear your voice again. And... I love you too. A lot Cato.

Love,

Peeta.

Thankfully, the Capitol supplied me with a phone. I quickly run over to it, dialing the number onto the buttons as fast as my fingers can go. It doesn't even have time to ring once before there is an answer.

"Peeta?" I almost yell into the speaker.

"Cato! Cato it's me!" he yells back.

"Peeta!" I yell.

It's silent for a few seconds before he speaks up again.

"I've been sitting by my phone for two weeks waiting for your call." He says behind a little bit of laughter.

I smile at this. "Peeta... I love you a lot. I can't take this anymore. I cry myself to sleep every night thinking about you."

"I love you too... I wish I could see you again."

"I know. Someday I'll get out, I promise." I whisper to him.

Peeta goes silent. Then I hear another voice on the other end of the line. Not Peeta's, but the cold voice of President Snow himself.

"Cato, we've told you not to have any contact with this boy. We've already executed the person who let that letter slip through our system." He hisses.

"No, wait Snow! Don't hurt him! Hurt me! Punish me instead! I was the one who called, I was the one who sent the letter! Please, don't touch him." I say, my voice muffled behind tears.

It is silent for a minute as if he's considering to say yes or no. "Alright Cato. But I'm sure you'll regret this later." Snow says, ending the phone call.

Not even an hour later they have me in a white room, a television in front of me. I am chained up, and peacekeepers surround me. What could they possibly be doing?

The television snaps on, and I see his face. The image makes me want to cry. And then I see it. I see something fly, and a splotch of blood hits the camera lens. His blood.

"Peeta!" I shriek, pulling at the metal restraints on my arms. "Peeta! What are you doing to Peeta!"

After a few more hits are thrown, I try closing my eyes and screaming to keep the image and the sound out. A few shocks from what is something like a dog collar make me open them again.

They make me watch this for a solid forty-five minutes. And I sob. I scream. I curse and kick and yank and get electrocuted. They are hurting you. And when they hurt you, they hurt me. And now, this hurt is beyond repair.