Authors Note: I am back fanfic fans! This story is going to get better, I promise. Please review.
The words in italics are Katniss's dream sequences, which is how I will be starting this story.
Chapter 3
I stood on an all- too- familiar silver plate that led into a deep pool of rippling waves.
"Good evening tributes," the threatening voice boomed over the arena,
"Let the 75th Hunger Gams begin!" Suddenly, a ripple of tributes dove into the water and swiftly made their way towards the cornucopia. I got ready to dive, but not before I realized my feet were immobile and stuck to the platform. Before I could even let out a yelp, the water underneath me began to rise from the floor and drag me in, coughing and gaging water out of my throat.
My other competitors were vanished as I was floating unaccompanied in the violent waves. Something on my foot brought me under the water with a vicious tug. The lower I was pulled, the more I could realize about my attacker. The ginger hair and menacing grin reminded me of one person. Cato.
Of course his face was deformed, like it was before his brutal death. Claw marks covered his otherwise pale skin. Slowly, Cato began to use my frail arm to guide me closer to himself so that his hands could wrap around my neck. Right before the life was squeezed out of me, the foe's face morphed into Peeta, but with the same violent expression.
An urgent scream ripped through my throat as my eyes flew open and my hands hit a figure next to me. I was momentarily startled with confusion. Who on Earth would want to come here to comfort me in the earliest point of the morning? Realization hit me as I looked up readily to find myself staring into the bright blue eyes of Peeta and began to shudder with sobs.
"Katniss, it's alright," he comforted. Instead of responding, I continued to clutch onto his strong arm and soak his gray t-shirt with my flowing, salty tears. Eventually, with a gasp, I regained my strength.
"Peeta, what are you doing here?" I questioned weakly. Not even expecting an answer.
"Ummm," he stuttered, "I was up early and I, uh, heard you scream. I guess I am still caught up on the act of trying to protect you."
"Why were you even up at three in the morning? I mean I'm glad you came, but…." He smiled sadly.
"Honestly, I spend most of my night trying not to sleep. When I close my eyes, I am haunted from the games, but the second I open them, usually, I find myself in the middle of a flashback/episode or whatever and go all…" Peeta stopped and motioned to his head as if to say 'crazy.' Moments of dead silence passed by as I was coming to the realization of what his words meant. What happened in the Capitol still haunts him. That sweet, innocent boy will never be freed of the venom.
"I need to go Katniss," he stated gravely. Without any further words, he stood up and made his way towards the door. My mind went numb and I could not think.
"Stay with me." Peeta turned around, his face expressing obvious shock. His answer was not immediate. He glanced at his hands as a battle went on in his mind.
"I can't." And with that, he ran, leaving me to sit emotionlessly on my bed, waiting for sleep to take over.
The next morning, I awoke to the smell of freshly baked bread and cinnamon. Sure enough, downstairs was Peeta, hovering over the oven. I smirked at him.
"What have I done to deserve these treats, Mellark?" I joked.
"Consider it a gift." Out from the oven came a loaf of cinnamon raisin bread and Peeta went silent.
"This was the kind of bread I threw you when we were 12, real or not real?" The suddenness of the question hit me full force. We have not played that game since the rebellion, but after taking one look into Peeta's eyes, I realized that it is more than just a game to him. It is the key to his recovery.
"Real, Peeta" I whispered just loud enough for him to hear.
"I am sorry for leaving you last night, I just…..couldn't do it.
"Why couldn't you stay?" I tried to refrain from sounding desperate. Peeta sighed.
"We both know I'm not mentally stable enough to be with you the whole night. I can't hurt you." He is still protecting me, I realized. I brushed a stray blonde curl away from his forehead.
"I trust you, Peeta, you need to believe that" I assured him, but it did not seem to help.
"Yes, but I don't trust myself," he hissed, his eyes looking wild. Suddenly, it seems as if he had snapped. In a ripple of motion, he forced his knees onto the floor, and his hands desperately grasped onto the edge of the table. Beads of sweat fell from his hair. He was having a flashback.
"Go! Katniss, get out!" he yelled, each word sounding like a growl. But I didn't move. How could I?
"It's not real Peeta," I comforted in a panic. His hands moved from the table to his face as he clawed at his skin in attempt to help himself focus on reality. But he was too late.
"You killed my family, mutt," he growled with tears and blood streaming down his cheeks. "They didn't deserve death! They didn't deserve to be engulfed in flames! This is your fault!" He was screaming now. Hatred was echoed on his face. I was stopped in my tracks and I tried to keep from crying along with him. Using all of his effort, Peeta stood up and lunged at me, causing my head to hit the ground with a loud thud. Before I could process the situation, I felt a fist make contact with my face and strong hand around my neck, slowly choking the life out of me.
"Peeta," I croaked. A light lit up in his dilated eyes and he moved himself away from me.
"I'm sorry" he whispered, looking down at his hands. Then he ran.
Authors note: That was kind of an emotional chapter. Let me know what you think and try to give me ideas for this story. Review