Hi everyone. Sorry for the long delay. Life in college has been extremely busy, and I'm going to face my first AS-level Literature exam of the year in two days, so wish me luck. Since I'm taking Sociology and Psychology, I've learned something about human behavior and I'll hope you'd notice what I learnt from this chapter. Enjoy it guys!

"His parents are dead?" I say, it's more of a disbelieving statement rather than a question.

Haymitch slowly nods and takes another small sip of his drink.

I don't know what to say. His family is dead. The news keeps on playing in my head. Surely Haymitch won't be there most of the time so who was there for him if his father is dead?

"You sure you want to know the whole story, sweetheart? I'm telling you it's pretty crazy," he warns.

"Just tell me. I need to know what happened so that I can do something or anything for him," I persist.

He purses his lips tightly and then sighs heavily. "Alright… the story goes like this. Once upon a time, there was a boy who was forced to fight…"

Peeta

My name is Peeta Mellark. I am 17 years old. I am the Victor of the 74th Hunger Games. I live alone in the Victor's Village because apparently the customers and my family are too afraid to pay a visit to the bakery if a killer lived there.

It's been two weeks since the disappearance of the Everdeen and Hawthornes. I unwillingly continue my pathetic and miserable life as the sole Victor of the 74th Hunger Games. If it weren't for my father and the persuasion of my prep team members, I would have left this God forsaken world. Not only that, Snow still keeps his eye on me. What's the point of doing so? It's not like he's going to get any information about the Girl on Fire from me. I feel myself boiling with anger and annoyance with the memories of the Peacekeepers kept on interrogating me for their whereabouts, because Snow seems displeased since Everdeen's disappearance caused this year's Quarter Quell to be canceled. Well that spared my life.

There's a soft knock on the door and I sit up from my stool and put down the multi-colored paint brush on the palette. Once I open the door, I see my one and only family member whom I still care for.

"Hi, son."

"Hi, dad," I reply solemnly.

"I brought you something to eat. You look you haven't eaten anything," he says, passing me bag. Inside it there's a plastic container filled with mashed potato and meat.

I take a quick glance at my discarded kitchen. Sure enough, he's right; I haven't cooked in the past week. I don't have the mood to make anything anyway.

I step back and let him in, "Thanks, dad."

Once he enters, he immediately says, "Son, I know it's been hard for you but you've got to stop living like this. Stop moping around and make or paint something."

"I am painting something at the moment," I tell him while walking into the kitchen and take the container out.

His loud steps make me know that he follows right behind me. "It's one of your nightmares again, right?" He sighs. "Look, I don't know how it felt like to be in there and how bad your terrors are or how to help. But living like this isn't the best way to get rid of them."

"It's impossible to get rid of them," I sternly mutter to him. "It's like the images of the 22 dead children are implanted in my mind, tattooed in my body. Besides, I wouldn't have continued living if it wasn't for you, dad."

He looks at me with intense sadness in his eyes. "Peeta…"

"Don't worry. I'll keep on living even if I'll go insane in any time," I assure him.

"Peeta, don't say that. And just remember that you'll always have your family on your side."

I chuckle dryly. "Some family who never pays a visit."

"Everyone has been busy. You know how your mother takes the business so seriously and I have to be there too. Your brothers have got their hands full as well. Wheat is with his wife and kids, and Rye…"

"Is busy hooking up with a huge number of girls. I know," I cut him off. "Besides, the woman there is not my real mother. Why would she even bother to visit?"

I hear my father sigh. "I'm so sorry, son. If only I could save Charlotte, you would have a real mother. Now, this is just a suggestion but why don't you see someone? I'm sure there are other girls who want to meet you."

"Yeah? Like who?" I inquire sarcastically.

He seems hesitant for a while. "Well… Delly seems to be excited to see you."

I smile a little with the mention of my one and only true friend from childhood. Delly has been a great friend throughout my life. We've known each other and seldom play around together since we were kids. We stay very close even after I came back from the Games, she's the only one who treats me no differently than before I step my foot on the Capitol. Too bad I cannot see her more than as a good friend, or else I wouldn't have made a fool of myself by falling in love with Everdeen. Besides Dad, she's the only one who came to comfort me after their departure.

"She has frequently visited me," I tell him. "In fact she just came yesterday."

"Oh that's good," my father comments with a relieved smile. "Do you two have any plans coming up?"

I take a spoonful of meat. "Well, she did say she wanted to eat dinner with me tonight."

His eyes brighten in excitement. "What time is she coming?"

"Around 7, I guess."

"Well then, what are you waiting for? You've got to get ready. You wouldn't want her to see you looking like this." He then pulls me towards the stairs.

I quirk an eyebrow and pull my arm from his grasp. "Why? She's used to see me like this."

We reach my room when he insists, "And that's why you have to wash up. Do you think she'd like to have a dinner with you looking like someone who hasn't showered for a month?"

I let out a small chuckle and grab my towel. "Fine. But what about the food and living room?"

Confidently, he assures, "Leave that to me. Who do you think raised you in the bakery and cleans it up before it closes? Now go on!"

I leave him a playful smile before I enter the bathroom. When I enter the shower, I take off my dirty white shirt and old pants and put them into the laundry box. Turning on the shower, a rain of cold water lands on my head and soon enough it turns warmer to a perfect temperature. I grab the soap and scrub all the paint I have on my forearm and in my nails, and then throughout my body. Next I take the shampoo that I haven't used for a while and squirt a handful of it on my palm. After washing my hair, I finished my clean-up by shaving my growing stubble, knowing that Delly prefers clean-shaved.

I get out of the bathroom and go straight to my wardrobe and grab the finest clothes I can find; a light blue shirt and a pair of khaki pants. Dad seems pleased when I head downstairs because he gives me a satisfied smile.

"Don't you think you need to do something about your hair?" He asks, touching it.

I shake my head. "No. She prefers it to be the way it is. She told me she hates how I looked like during the interviews with Caesar because it was gelled."

He nods in understanding and goes back into the kitchen. While he's in there, I take a look around the living room and it looks almost the same when I left it but it seems somewhat better. Soon I smell a mouth-watering aroma and I immediately drawn into the kitchen. I see my father has cooked roasted duck and some soup.

"Wow, dad. You did this while I was cleaning up?" I ask, impressed.

"It seems you haven't realized that you took almost an hour to get ready."

I counter with a sarcastic remark, "And who was the person who told me to look good for a girl?"

He laughs and carries the pot of soup onto the dining table while I take the duck. Realizing that we're missing a touch, I decide to make some eggs and rosemary corn bread, Delly's favourite.

Soon afterwards, Dad mentions it's almost 7 and he lights some candles on the table. And then we both hear a faint knock from the front door and we know who it is.

"Hi, Peeta," Delly greets brightly with a smile, and surprisingly she wears a nice dress.

"Hey, Delly," I say with an honest smile. "You look great."

If I said she smiles brightly already, then this time she smiles brighter and I think she blushes a bit while tugging her blonde hair a bit. "Thanks. You too, and I'm actually quite surprised with YOUR look."

I chuckle. "My dad made me do it."

"Mr. Mellark is here?" She asks with wide eyes, her blush now turns brighter.

"Good evening, Delly," Dad says behind me, already wearing his coat.

"Hello, Mr. Mellark, and good evening," she says politely.

He gives her a since smile and a nod, then pats my shoulder. "Well, I have to go now, kids. Wouldn't want to bother you two alone." Next he gives me a playful wink, causing me to roll my eyes. With that, he leaves the two of us in the front door before I could say a goodnight.

I think I put a big change in Peeta's family there. Well I thought Peeta would have inherited some of his mom's cruel personality, even just a small part of it, and I don't think a mother would ever do that to her son, unless she's an ultimate psycho. But since I've only seen him being the good guy, I'm pretty sure he's not her biological son, judging by her treatment towards him and his brothers show little care for him.

IMPORTANT AND UNFORTUNATE NEWS: I won't be having much time to spend to write because of, as I said: college. But I'll try to find some time to spare for you guys, okay? Love you all! Reviews make me smile!