This one's for Lana! I'm going to get your meaningless fluffy chapter posted as soon as possible :) Thanks for the reviews!
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Katniss' POV
I stare blankly at the stars, trying to find something significant in the design of our universe, some way to escape from everything and pretend our lives aren't really this hopeless. Finnick is lying next to me, staring at the sky just as expresionlessly as I am.
Ever since Mags was killed, Finnick has been less and less annoying. It's saddening, and it makes me more angry at the Capitol for changing everyone. His cocky, arrogant self is deflating as quickly as a balloon with a hole in itself.
I remember Peeta telling me before our first Games that no matter what happens, the one thing he's wishing for most is to not be changed by them, to not become a piece in their Games. But what control do we have over it now? They're making us into the kind of people who start thinking nothing of the kills they make. Finnick and I killed some people at the bloodbath, and have I thought of them since? Can I even remember what their names were? Even as their faces appeared in the sky several nights ago, all I had felt was numbness.
Am I becoming cold? Am I becoming exactly how they want me to be? A ruthless murderer?
"Mm..."
Peeta interrupts my thoughts, breaking me out of my trance by waking up. We're huddled in a sleeping bag together, his arms wrapped around me comfortably, but my body is stiff.
He lifts his face, his hair a mess and his eyes droopy. "Katniss? What are you still doing awake?" he mumbles.
"Can't sleep," I whisper.
He turns over and looks me over worriedly. "It's Finnick's turn to keep watch. You need to get some rest."
I shake my head. There's no chance that I'll be able to sleep now that these thoughts have passed through my head. I can't bear the thought of the people I hate most turning me into their little pawn; I'd promised myself it would never happen, and now look at where we are.
Completely ignoring the eyes of Finnick and the entire country, Peeta rolls himself onto me so that our faces are just inches apart. I love him more than anything, but I'm really not in the mood for his love. My thoughts are in too much of a dark place for his spark to light up, no matter how much effect he has on me.
I shake my head again, and he stares at me in confusion. "What's wrong, Katniss?" he whispers.
I want to spill all my worries out to him, but I know that I can't. I can't tell him when we have cameras that are probably on us right now. My anger flares again, because I'm sick of not having any privacy.
Stop your complaining, Katniss, I think to myself. There's nothing you can do about that. Not now, not ever. Just concentrate on getting Peeta home safely. Nothing else matters anymore.
I tell myself this, that nothing else matters, but it doesn't stop my chest from burning. I never wanted to die this way. When I was first Reaped into my first Hunger Games, I assumed that I'd die honorably, without becoming a monster. I thought it was the best way to go. But now, being in the arena for the second time, I'm worried that I'm going to die as nothing less than a murderer.
"Katniss?"
I swallow the lump in my throat. "Sorry. Nothing's wrong," I tell him.
He raises his eyebrows and prepares to argue, but the look in my eyes stops him. He shuts his mouth; he knows that what I'm feeling can't be said on camera. "Alright," he says. "But do get some sleep, okay? For me?"
The last bit gets to me. I close my eyes and snuggle back into him, knowing that for his sake, I need to be strong. But still, as I drift off, I know that my dreams won't be safe from my nightmares tonight.
Peeta's POV
The knife comes flying straight at me, and time slows. It's like I'm watching from someone else's eyes as I'm about to die. It spins and spirals, headed straight in the direction of my chest. I can't move, I can't breathe, I can't think. I can only acknoledge the fact that this is the end for me. And truthfully, I don't mind so much.
That is, until the reason I was content is flying through the air infront of me - until the knife lodges itself into her chest instead of mine. Her dark braid blurs across my vision, falling and falling and falling until it's sprawled across the forest floor, like her body.
Blood is everywhere. It's all I can see, all I can smell. The blood of the girl I love. The blood of Katniss.
Screams ring out. The screams of the dead tributes, of Finnick, of my own voice even. I want to cover my eyes and ears to block out everything I'm seeing and hearing, but it's no use. There's no way I can escape the harsh reality of what has just happened.
I drop to my knees in pure agony and scream in outrage and heartbreak. Katniss lies infront of me, her eyes wide and ... and dead.
Katniss is dead.
I scream and scream and scream until my throat becomes raw. But still, the heartbroken sounds are all I can hear until they become higher, and more high-pitched.
My chest burns as if a flame is licking up and down it, right over my heart, until it finally breaks the surface of my skin and burns into my heart, organ to flame.
The screams never stop. I can't tell if they are my own, but after a little while, I am able to tell. They aren't my screams, and they never were.
They're the screams of the girl I love, of Katniss.
...
My eyes fly open, wet and as wide as saucers. It was only a nightmare, I tell myself. Only a nightmare.
But as my brain catches up to itself, I realize that the screams I hear aren't just echoing from my horrible dream. Katniss is screaming her head off, right next to me in the sleeping bag.
I clamp my hand over her mouth, terrified that she's leading all of the other tributes to us. Finnick is also trying to quiet her from what I can see. He's running over to us with the bucket of water, I'm assuming so that he can dump it over her head.
It's not necessary, though, because I've woken her up from nightmares numerous times.
"Katniss," I say softly. "Wake up. It's me, Peeta. Wake up."
She stops screaming into my hand, and her eyes pop open, her gray irises flashing with dark specks. I'd never noticed it before, but her eyes darken after each of her bad dreams.
I hold her tight against my body as she cries, just like usual. "Shhh... it's okay, you're safe," I tell her. And with her pressed tightly against me chest, it really feels that way. As if I can protect her from everything that can possibly hurt her, just by shielding her with my own body.
But she shakes her head. "It's not myself I was scared for, Peeta," she sobs.
I close my eyes, because I can relate. I know exactly how it feels to think the person you love more than anything is dying, and there's nothing you can do about it. I've had my share of nightmares like that.
I kiss her face; her cheeks, her nose, her forehead. She calms down with each second of connection my lips make to her skin.
But after a few moments, Finnick interferes. "Just thought I'd let you two know that we have about two minutes before all of the tributes jump out of trees with spears and knives. It would be nice if we got out of here before that happens."
Katniss wipes her face, taking away not only the lingering tears, but also all traces of emotion. Monotonously, she agrees.
"Let's go, Peeta," she says. I follow her, wondering what could have possibly happened in that head of hers to make her act so differently all of a sudden.
...
Was that too rushed? I'm not sure how I feel about this one in particular. Let me know in a review, please!
