Author's Note: Well first off, I am so so sorry I never proceeded with the story, school and time got the better of me :( Let me know if you guys still like it though and if you still want me to continue with this plot line. Thank you! (:

-CierraAguilera

Chapter 3: The Confession

I slam the door behind me as I storm into the house. Thoughts are pouring into my head a thousand miles a minute; Who is his competition? How can I help him? The fear racks through me and I fall onto my bed. I don't understand why I'm so angered, so upset by this. After all, isn't he just a boy? The truth settles around me like dust that is found everywhere in District 12: No. He's not just a boy. I've done my best to ignore him, to leave him be, forget that I owe. But I do owe him, and the past is bubbling to the surface. A tear rolls down my face and I quickly slap it way. I might be upset, but I am anything but weak.

I flop over onto my back to stare at the ceiling. A thought crosses my mind, the tributes have until tonight before they leave for the capitol. And if I remember correctly, visitors are permitted. I'll bring him something, give Peeta advice maybe. Perhaps I can express the continual debt I owe him.
A rap on the door and a set of familiar foot steps drag me out of my thoughts.

"Katniss? I saw you leave the ceremony, are you here? I can talk if you need to."

I let out an exhausted sigh and call out, "Yeah, I'm in here." I turn my head and see a face writ with concern. Gale's forehead scrunches up as he carefully takes a seat on the bed.

"Why'd you leave? We see kids leave for the Capitol every year. And no one we know was picked."

I can't help but silently deny his words in my my boy with the bread and I have never truly had a conversation, I feel as though I know him. He's kind, and brave. Strong, yet gentle. My thoughts wander to his eyes again, full of depth and a beautiful, blue complexion that captures your heart with a single glance. A flitter of a gaze, through a thick layer of eyelashes. Peeta had been so calm when he walked up to the stage, more likely toward death, which was a concept I wasn't willing to consider. I'm suddenly aware of a gruff cough and my eyes flit up toward Gale, almost forgetting he was here.

"Katniss?" he says. I shake my head, to clear my thoughts and answer my company.

"I know we don't know them, but it sickens me, Gale. I think I'm going to go visit them." I quickly stand up, realizing I'm not sure what time I can actually get in to talk to him. My head scrambles trying to think of something to give to Peeta to show him I'm truly grateful for that dreadful day in the rain years ago. I swiftly make my way into my bedroom, that I share with my mother and my sister, Prim, and I approach the dresser. My gaze falls upon a small, golden locket my father gave me when I was young. It looked almost like a pocket watch in shape, timeless and masculine. Inside it was picture of myself, full of joy and brightness, clearly reflected in my genuine smile and eyes. My young complexion highly contrasts that of the older face of my father standing next to me. His tanned skin made the gray of his eyes sparkle, and his tussled dark brown hair was interwoven with the dust of the coal mines. A wave of pain racked my body and I snatched the locket before practically running out the door, not bothering to say goodbye to Gale.

An assault of light pierced my vision, and I quickly drew my hand up to shield my face from the sun's rays. I started walking toward the town's main square, and the place where Peeta resides, the Justice Building. My shoes that match the light blue dress my mother gave me clack along the cobblestone streets as I approach the nicer area of District 12. The people who attended the reaping, which were probably everyone, were filing out of the town square, with mournful countenances on their faces. This is how it was every year, knowing the children of our district were going to die. I shake the thought from my head, swiftly. Peeta dying was unthinkable at the moment. The dull gleam from the windows of the Justice Building comes into my line of sight and I pull myself along a little faster. I storm through the doors and asked the first person I see where I could see the boy tribute.

A young woman at the desk, peers up at me through a pair of glasses. Her small frame was unnaturally thin, and the gray of her eyes were sickeningly dull. She sneered at me and with a shrill and rather cold voice said, "Up the elevator to the 5th floor. It will be the second door on your right."

As soon as the words escaped her lips, I was strutting away. I'm pretty sure I heard her scoff too, but that was unimportant. The ride up the elevator was tediously slow and it was nearly unbearable, as the anxiety was finally beginning to hit me. What would I say to him? Does he even know who I am? Surely he has to otherwise he wouldn't have done me the favor that saved my life so long ago. A sharp "ding!" went off, and I proceeded out of the elevator. A pair of peacekeepers were waiting (apparently the dreadful woman had informed them I was coming.) The two men looked at me from head to toe, and one said "Please, follow me miss."

I walked behind the guards mimicking their militant-like footsteps to the door where Peeta was. My hand reached out for the doorknob, but suddenly the bigger Peacekeeper stands before me
"Wait, miss. He has a visitor right now."

My eyes drift to the oak door, and I prick my ears up. I faintly hear the sounds of a woman crying, small sobs, every now and then. A man sighs, and I know from the gruff, deep sound it makes, that it is his father. There is a moment of silence, and the door is opened in my face. My expression must mirror the shock that registers on Peeta's father's face. He gives me a sad smile, and his eyes are rimmed with red from crying. The rest of his family files out after him and I watch them saunter down the hallway and leave the floor, before the guard permits me to enter his room. "Three minutes." he tells me.

I sit down on a small love seat, as my mother calls them, across from him. He hasn't looked up yet, so I clear my throat. When he doesn't react, I speak so softly, it's almost a whisper. "Peeta?"

His head immediately tears up and a look of disbelief is writ on his face. Those blue eyes, have an undeniable tone of despair in them. And I know what he thinks. He thinks he won't make it, and for some reason, this angers me. I stand up, and for good measures, pull him to his feet as well. He stands a number of inches taller than me, and his shoulders are much broader than mine, from years of helping his father make breads for their shop. The wave of blond curls that lay on his head have been disheveled, since I saw them earlier. That's when I start yelling.

"Look, I know you think you're going to die, but you won't. Your going to come home. I've seen you lift flour in the market, and wrestle people, and you're strong. That can help you. You only need to worry about yourself. And find shelter quickly, everyone who wins does that. You're going to win, okay?"
I've started shaking him and my voice is starting to quiver by the end of my speech. I take a deep breath to try and recapture the strength I had coming into the room. But it doesn't help and I start falling into Peeta's strong, unsuspecting arms. He catches me easily and we sit on the couch. I start sobbing and I curl up into a ball, with him rocking me back and forth. I start mumbling on about how I can never pay him back for the bread, and how it saved my life, gave me hope. He mutters things like "I know" and "Everything will be all right." he strokes my hair and I look up at him. His gaze is locked with mine and unwavering, all fear and misery swept from them. I reach into my pocket and take out the locket from my father. I grab one of Peeta's hands and gently place the small, gold thing in his hand. "Will you use this as your token?" I whisper. He nods and gives me a small smile and a reassuring squeeze of my hand. A loud banging comes from the other side of the door and I hear, "One minute!" I panic, my heart starts beating too fast. Have I said enough? It dawns upon me that I will never have said enough, not to him. I stand up and smooth my clothes with my hands, and I run my fingers over the intricate braids that lay on my head, trying to compose the mess that I am.

"I-I-I.. I uh.." I start. I'm at a loss for words. Peeta puts a finger to my lips and pulls me into a tight embrace.

"This is enough." he says "Thank you." I relax in his arms.

"You have to come back." I mumble.

He pulls me away from him and with a sincere look in his eyes he starts to open his mouth to speak. Before he can utter a word, I throw caution to the wind, and lean forward to press my lips on his. His are warm and sweet, and they move to match rhythm with mine. He puts his arms around my waist and as I reach up to his hair, but as soon as we start to kiss, the door is thrown open and we tear apart. The guards grab my arms and start to pull me away.

I start shaking; a tear falls down my cheek and I say to him: "Peeta, please stay with me, please."
His lips just begin to form words before the door slams before me. And I'm afraid it's the last time I will see his face.