As I push the front door open, I see Gale's bag already on the floor. He already had himself situated. This could be an issue.

The door slams shut behind me as I take off my shoes. "Hi, Gale."

"Hi," he says, an edge in his voice.

I shoot him a weird look, walking over to the kitchen to start dinner. "What's wrong? Bad day at work?"

"No, it went well. But, uh . . . where were you? I came home and got a little worried when I didn't see you." he runs a hand through his hair.

"Oh, you got a bit worried? Nice to see you care now. That's a change."

"Yes, Katniss I care! Stop bringing this up. What has gotten into you?" he stands up to face me.

"What's gotten into me? It seems like you don't care anymore, that's what! I have the right to leave this cage of a house and talk to people in town," I flip my bangs out of my face, agitated.

"I never said you had to stay home all the time. All I'm saying is that I was concerned when you weren't home like you usually are. Who'd you see in town?"

"Does it matter?" My response comes out snippier than planned and for once, I don't care.

"Of course not. Can't a man have a conversation with his wife about what happened during the day?" Gale holds his hands up, perplexed and almost hopeless.

My eyes flitter to the pot of water I put on the stove. I swallow, not knowing how to tell him the truth without turning this into an issue blown entirely out of proportion.

"Peeta," I eventually say, moving my eyes up to see his face. "I walked past the bakery today and decided to see him."

He tries to contain the annoyance in his voice as he replies, sitting in a chair with his back to the fire he started. "The baker boy? You haven't spoken to him in months. I didn't think you cared to talk to him anymore."

"Well, Gale," I drop the ladle that was previously in my right hand onto the counter. "The two of us went through two Games together and a war, so yes we keep in touch even though our relationship romantically didn't work out. I have the right to keep up with old friends."

" 'Friend', that's what you call him. Just a friend. Nothing more. No significant attachment."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, even though I already know his reply. I thought Gale was over this petty jealousy that plagued him last year since we are now married. He has no fear of me cheating on him. He knows I'm faithful. He knows Peeta would never encourage me to cheat. Why does he feel threatened all of a sudden?

Gale sighs, clomping his boot on the floor. "You're not going to go running to him if I don't give you what you want?"

I look at him with a sudden need to get defensive. "Why- why would I go running to him? As a married couple we're supposed to work out issues together. As a couple. Going to another person would just add to the problems."

"That's not what I mean!" his voice rises in aggravation, causing me to flinch. He attempts to calm himself, but fails. "I don't want you running off to have him relax you after you wake up from nightmares in the middle of the night. I'm in that bed with you. Not him."

I shake my head, appalled at his need to control me like a child. "I'm sorry if my Capitol-caused nightmares disturb your sleep, then. That's something completely out of my control. If you can't deal with it, then sleep alone. Or find a way to help me cope with them like-." I stop myself from saying like Peeta did. But I already said too much. He knew what I meant.

He swallows some anger, standing to walk to the opposite side of the kitchen counter to face me. I watch him shake his head and speak to me in a dangerous tone. "This is exactly what I meant, Katniss. They're nightmares. Frightening nightmares. Sleeping with someone you love should be enough to chase them away."

"They're not just your usual nightmares! I can't explain them to someone who never experienced one."

"Meaning what exactly?" he crosses his arms across his chest.

"Meaning," I take a deep breath, composing myself. "I relive parts of the Games in some. They're caused by the Games. I see Rue or Cato or Wiress die in front of me again. In last night's I was burned in front of Twelve's Justice Building as Snow shouted: 'Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire!'. I can't escape them, Gale. They come and they plague me every night. I can't control them."

"But the Games are over, Katniss. Snow is gone. Coin is gone. Peeta is . . ." he trails off momentarily before exhaling. "Gone. Everything is different. Things have changed and they're better than they were before. Just forget them. Forget everything that happened because of them!"

I can't stop a look of disbelief from passing over me. I practically screech.

"Forget them! Gale, it's impossible to forget them! Do you know what it's like to be thrown into a death pit with no allies, no plan, and no idea if the last thing you'll see is a knife or bloody face of a teenager? Being forced into situations where every single moral and value you've acquired just goes flying out the window?"

"That's war, Katniss!" his voice booms in my ears. "You have no choice but to act like that or be killed. You just have to let it go. It's a thing in the past that's stopping you from living in the present. Leave it in the past!"

I shake my head. "I can't! You don't understand what it's like-,"

"I don't? I've been through war too, Katniss! What do you think happens in my nightmares? You think that I don't see people I care about die?"

"That's different!" I yell, frustrated at the fact that he refused to comprehend anything I say and look at things from my point of view.

"How?" he glares at me. "Enlighten me on how dreams about death are different."

I puff out air, ignoring his unnecessary sarcasm. Exasperation at his closed mind rises like the boiling pot on the stove. Unable to calm myself, my balled fist slams on the hard counter. "THE GAMES CHANGE YOU, GALE! NOTHING I SAY CAN CONVINCE YOU OTHERWISE! PEETA-," I stop. His name slips through my lips this time.

Gale's eyes flicker dangerously, his voice teeming with anger. "Peeta? PEETA? You aren't with him anymore! He doesn't know you like I do!"

"GALE!" my voice rises, out of my control now, shaking with fury. "I'M NOT THE SAME GIRL YOU MET IN THE WOODS!"

"THEN WHAT ARE YOU? SOME CAPITOL LOVER LIKE THAT PROSTITUTE FINNICK?"

My chest constricts. My throat tightens. My shaky voice speaks with as much menace as possible, "He was not a prostitute. Finnick was subject of the Games ruining his life. Just like I am. When can I get this concept through your thick skull: I've been damaged. I'm broken. I changed. I can't control the things my brain comes up with. You will never understand the effect two Hunger Games have had on me."

He inhales and exhales, processing what I told him. He replies, shaking his head. "Why do you keep bringing Peeta up in this?"

I lie. "I . . . I just saw him today. He's on my mind I guess. . ."

"Stop lying to me, Katniss! You wish that he was here instead of me, don't you? You wish that he was in our bed and not me!"

"Gale!"

"It's true! Isn't it?" Fury flashes in his eyes.

I don't know what to say without having him getting even more furious with me about things that are completely out of my control. "I- I . . . never said it was true!"

"But you never denied it, Katniss. That's what's troubling," he shakes his head, anger rising in his demeanor. "I can't take you sometimes. I really can't."

My jaw went slack. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He clenches and unclenches his fists. He's holding himself back from doing something to me physically that he'll regret. He has this malice in his eyes that he's battling to smother, for my sake. "You just . . . You don't make sense to me lately! What's gotten into you?"

"I'VE CHANGED, GALE! I'VE BEEN THIS WAY EVER SINCE I WAS REAPED!" my hands move to exaggerate my frustration.

"WHY ARE YOU TAKING THIS OUT ON ME?"

"WHY CAN'T YOU UNDERSTAND MY POINT OF VIEW? IT ISN'T COMPLICATED TO JUST LISTEN TO ME FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE!"

"You see?" He shrieks. "THAT'S WHAT I MEAN. I DO LISTEN!"

My voice drops, falling into a state of nostalgia. "Not like you used to. I'm the one who suffers from the plight of the Games. Not you. You have no reason to be different."

"YOU!" He yells. "It's you that's changed me! Your nightmares and feelings and scars and memories. They have changed me and sometimes, I really can't deal with it!"

"Well then if I'm such a burden to you, why are you here? Leave!" my voice shakes on the last sentence.

He starts to back up, moving to the door, speaking maliciously slow. "Maybe I will leave! You know what? I take you up on that offer. I am going to leave!"

"Go ahead, have fun!" My voice drips with sarcasm.

"I will!" He opens the door and steps out, giving me once last look before slamming the door shut. At that moment, the pot of water on the stove starts to boil over. Just like my temper. Just like my marriage.

I turn down the heat on the pot, not having an appetite any longer. I shuffle over to the fire to add a log in and sink down onto the warmed rug, running a hand through my bangs. Swallowing, I try not to think about our fight, but it's no use. My throat closes up and tears start to pour down my cheeks.

I don't understand it. I don't understand him. Nothing seems to make sense anymore. It is not like how it was with Peeta; those restless nights, waking up to his calm, sleeping face. A part of me misses that. The serene feeling that was between us. I shake my head. I can't slip into this . . . state. The consuming sadness like my mother had due to living in the past. I'm stronger than that.

I pull my feet up to my stomach, linking my arms around my knees, my sobs still racking my body. He almost did it, I think to myself as I look at the fire. He had to hold himself back from hurting me. Physically lunging at me. He would never actually do it. Never. Ever. No. No. He's protected me ever since we were younger. Always. Nothing can change that.

I sniffle, not bothering to wipe my face. My eyes flit around the room, landing on his bag, the coal dust on the hard wood floor, and his spare boots used in the mines that are sitting by the door. The scent of the fire starts to feel intoxicating, reminding me of him. The entire house feels teeming with Gale. I must get out. This house doesn't even feel like a house anymore. It's more of a cage and I feel locked and trapped. Tears still fall down my face as I grab my father's hunting jacket and slip on my boots. I don't look back as I step out of the house, closing the door behind me.

I told you they would get longer! And things are really starting to heat up in the Everdeen-Hawthorne household…