I had no idea why the citizens of district one were so welcoming of Peeta and I. Aside from the families of the deceased, no one seemed to show any sign of remorse for those of their community that they had lost. No one seemed to be angry at me for taking the lives of their children.

But then I remembered that the careers usually came from districts that trained them for battle in the arena, and they had practically been raised with the knowledge that they had only two options in life—either they would win the games, or they would die trying to. I suppose growing up with that kind of mentality made it easier for their community to stomach their deaths. Still, that didn't stop me from having nightmares about it.

At night, I saw the faces of the family members of the slain tributes once more. They stood atop the mezzanine where they had been during the procession, but this time they didn't sit docilely as their children's murderer stood upon the stage. Instead, they threw down their chairs and cried out for the audience members to capture me and make me pay for my murderous acts. All the welcoming faces of the audience members were instantly transformed into the menacing mugs of a large angry mob that swarmed around me. I was cornered and before long, the angry mob strapped me up onto a large wooden post. They brought torches, and lit the wooden post on fire. I could feel the scorching heat of the flames licking at my feet, as they slowly engulfed my entire body and burned me alive.

Then as the smoke rose from the ashes of my remains, I could see the crowd's angry faces closing in on me once more. Except this time they were armed with a hive of tracker jackers that they were intent on setting on me. I tried to run away from them but they chased me down. One of them threw the hive directly at my head and as the tracker jackers bit me their toxic venom quickly spread through my blood stream, causing me to go mad. I felt a million nails simultaneously crushing different parts of my body. I screamed in pain but it wouldn't stop.

Suddenly, I felt my hands grow severely itchy. But every time I tried to scratch my hands, another part of my body began to itch. I kept scratching away until pieces of my skin began falling off. But instead of stopping there, my torment continued as I felt—and saw—a dozen little bugs creeping through my skin, and eating me from the inside out. I eventually went berserk, scratching and hitting myself, trying to catch the giant bugs that crawled through my skin, and the residents of district one simply pointed and laughed at my anguish.

All of a sudden I woke up in a deep sweat, panting, as if I had been running in real life, when I had actually been lying motionless in a warm bed positioned safely in my chamber on the Victory train.

Peeta was standing at my door, watching me with a concerned look on his face. I silently reproached myself for forgetting to lock my door.

"Another nightmare?" he acknowledged.

I gave a frantic nod.

"Can I come in?" he proposed. "I couldn't sleep."

I nodded and muttered sheepishly, "I'm sorry if I woke you."

"No, it wasn't you," he chuckled softly. "I was already awake when I heard you screaming...something about tracker jackers?"

"They were in my dream."

"Was it about the arena?" he asked softly, sitting down on my bed.

"No," I replied, shaking my head. "The people from district one, they set the tracker jackers on me."

"Because of what happened to Glimmer?"

"Yes. They wanted revenge."

"But they don't want revenge, Katniss," he said taking my hands in his. "You saw them. They welcomed us as friends."

"But they should want revenge," I stated resolutely.

"What happened in the arena, none of that is your fault," he assured. "You did what you had to do. You did what anyone else would have done."

Not you, I silently thought to myself.

But somehow, Peeta's presence seemed to soothe me enough to allow me to sleep a dreamless sleep that night. From then on, I kept my door open more often and let him join me at night. It helped him sleep better too, and he didn't try to do anything that would make me uncomfortable, so I let him spend most nights with me. Besides, there were cameras all over the train, and it helped our whole lover image that I would let him come into my room at night and share my bed.

By the time we got to district 8, we had been asked about our alleged wedding so many times that it was clear what Snow was expecting from us. I knew I didn't have much time left if I was to convince Peeta to propose to me. I didn't want it to happen in district 12, not with all of our family and friends watching us. So I tried to convince him one night after he had successfully coaxed me out of yet another nightmare and lay in bed with me keeping me company.

I rested my head on his shoulder, locked fully in his embrace. He lay only inches away from me, with one arm tied protectively around me, as if to ward off any more nightmares. He used his free hand to gently stroke my hair.

"Peeta," I whispered into his shoulder. "Maybe we should do it."

"Do what?" he asked.

"Get married."

He gazed at me intently, with a thoughtful expression in his eyes. Then he gently tucked a stray hair behind my ear as he gave his reply.

"Don't be pressured by the interviews," he whispered softly. "All this will be over in no time. I promise." A melancholy note gripped his voice as he continued. "When it ends, we can go back to being ourselves."

I knew he didn't want it to end. He liked how close we had gotten in the course of the Victory Tour. Even if it was only at night, when my nightmares got the best of me. He liked being there for me when I needed him.

But I hated how dependent I had gotten on him.

And yet I felt like marrying him would be the right thing to do.

"If we get married, it'll get them off our backs," I reasoned. "We'll have a marriage certificate and we won't have to constantly prove our love to them." I said referring to the audience members who would constantly cheer and roar until we showed them some sort of public display of affection.

"If we get married, we'll have to live together," Peeta pointed out. "And that'll open up a whole can of worms that we won't be able to handle."

"But I like having you here with me," I lied.

I didn't like him being there. I hated it. It made me feel weak.

His blue eyes scanned my face silently, before he finally responded with a somber note in his voice.

"That's not enough to get married, Katniss."

"What if your life was on the line?" I urged. "Would that be enough?"

"It won't matter," he asserted. "Living my life in fear is just as good as being dead."

"They'll leave us alone," I said trying to convince him. "If we do what they want."

I watched as his blue eyes sized me up for a moment, and his eyebrows furrowed over in confusion. Then a playful grin suddenly appeared on his face.

"I thought you were stronger than that," he pondered quizzically.

"Than what?" I asked, confused by his accusation.

"Than letting them bully you into doing what they want."

I stayed silent, so he continued. "You didn't seem to be scared of breaking rules when you used to hunt."

I immediately grew angry at him for bringing up my hunting in a room that could have easily been filled with cameras.

And he was wrong. This wasn't like hunting at all. This time the stakes were higher.

"President Snow visited my house, Peeta."

"Your house in the Seam?" he asked in a startled voice.

"Yes. He wants us to convince him of our relationship," I explained. "I think it's clear after all the fuss everyone's been making about marriage, that'swhat Snow expects us to do."

"So you want to get married, because that's what Snow wants?"

"Yes," I declared earnestly.

"What do you want?" he asked softly pushing strands of hair from my face.

I was immediately taken aback by his question. No one had ever asked me that before. Since my father died, my life had been characterized by what I could do for others. It was never about what I wanted. It was about what I had to do.

"I...I never wanted to get married," I finally replied, dodging his question.

I couldn't tell him the truth. I still didn't want to get married, but I didn't have the freedom to make that choice anymore. At least the answer I did give him was sincere.

"So you never thought about marriage? Not even once?"

"No," I replied plainly. I suppose it's not common for girls to go throughout their lives without ever imaging their future marriage but I was never one of those girls.

"Why?" he asked in an astonished voice.

I hesitated for a while before finally settling on an answer. "Because...I don't want to have children."

"Because of the reaping?" he guessed.

"I don't want them to starve," I explained. "And I don't want them to die."

"What if they won't?" he asked, gently stroking my hair.

"I'm not willing to take that chance."

The moment passed by in silence. I felt Peeta's fingers slowly travel down to my face, as he softly caressed my cheek with his thumb.

"Not all married couples have children," he pointed out, gazing into my eyes with a soft look in his eyes.

"I never had a reason to get married," I replied.

"And you do now?"

"Yes."

"Oh, yeah?" he smiled lightly. "Why's that?"

I cast my gaze downward. I have to tell him the truth. He deserves to know.

My eyes flitted back up to meet his eager blue ones.

I can't continue lying to him.

My voice was barely a whisper as I replied.

"To save Gale's life."

I felt his hand fall limply from my face. He dropped his gaze and his eyebrows automatically stitched over in discontent. When he glanced back up I noticed that his deep blue eyes were overcome with a sudden flood of sadness.

I could tell that wasn't the answer he was looking for. But he didn't utter a word in reply. He simply withdrew his arm from where it lay perched around my shoulder. He pulled himself up and turned away from me.

"I think it's best if I go back to my room now," he suggested. He cast one more hasty glance in my direction, before awkwardly shuffling out of my room and closing the door behind him.

Once again, I realized I had managed to hurt him, even though I wasn't entirely sure of how or why.

This is why I wanted to stay away from him. I knew I could say something else that would hurt him.

I instantly felt a pang of guilt for the pain I seemed to have caused him. I spent the rest of the night worrying about his reaction.

What if he won't want to marry me anymore?

I thought maybe if he knew that my best friend's life was at stake, that he would overlook everything else and agree to marry me.

But why would he? I've hurt him too many times now.

Despite how heartbroken Peeta appeared to be that night, the next time someone mentioned our marriage, he automatically took out the engagement ring we got from district one, got down on one knee, and, in the typical Capitol fashion, proposed.

Once we were married, I was certain that would be enough to convince President Snow of our ruse and finally get him off our backs.

But I was wrong.

A few weeks after our wedding, I received a second visit from Snow.