Sometimes, when there is no black or white,
you get stuck in the gray.
Your only hope of moving forward,
is to take everything day by day.

A/N--Shocked? So am I. So is Peeta. Thanks everyone who reviewed :). Love you guys!

Disclaimer--I. am not. the owner of. The Hunger Games.

Enjoy :)!

I want to punch him because he is lying to me. I want to punch him because he's telling the truth. Most of all, I want to punch him for saying anything at all. I don't want to be kept in ignorance. Or at least, that's what I keep telling myself. It is better to know, it's always better to know. Then why do I feel like puking?

Maybe there were a lot of clues pointing this way, but there were just as many pointing to countless other people, so why was it him? Why not Gale, who I have never trusted, or Haymitch, who I wouldn't have been able to hold responsible for his liquor-induced act anyway? Why Matza? And Challa. Maybe he didn't actually set the fire, but he was obviously involved. Ophelia knew. The only person who would have told her would be my dad. Which means he knew, too. They all knew. Every single person I care about knew who did it, and no one did a thing about it.

The whole thing makes me sick, and I just want to get out of here, away from all these people who I thought I could trust. I have nowhere to go. I can't shove past my brothers. I turn around, running face-first into my dad. I look at him, can't say a thing. My ears feel like they are stuffed with cotton as I see him mouth words that I will never hear. I go around him, out the door of the kitchen, out the front door, onto the street.

I run to my house. Katniss was right: sometimes it's better not knowing. But there isn't anything I can do about it now, except deal with it. Alone. That is what I want, to be utterly alone, how I feel. I have no one to trust anymore, at least, no one I can think of, or about. I am alone, mentally. Why can't they leave me alone physically?

Prim runs out of her house seconds after I pass by. It is as if she were staring out the window, waiting to see my broken hobbles down the streets of Victors' Village. "Peeta, wait!" She yells from behind me, running, trying to catch me, because I won't stop.

And I wouldn't have stopped, except I was at my house, and that is where I was headed. I think about slamming the door before she could come in, but decide against it. "What?" It is meant to come out as a snap, really, but my voice is hoarse and dry from running and trying to hold back the emotions that have been flooding inside of me, unsuccessfully.

"Who told you?" She asks, and her eyes are penetrating, reading my every emotion and thought, and I feel like she is a witch trying to scrape out my brains. I can't bear it, the way she is looking at me. Accusing me of a thousand things I've never done.

"Matza."

Her eyes waver between fury and compassion. "I told you to just leave it alone."

"And I told you I wouldn't. I had to know. Had to."

"Do you feel better now? Are you happy now that you know what happened? Or are you worse for it. Don't try to lie to me, I can see it written all over your face. You are trying to hide yourself away already."

Yes. Like a witch, or a mind-reader. I don't know which one is worse. "It's late. And you have school tomorrow. Go to bed." It is hard to sound commanding right now. It isn't working for me at all, and Prim isn't intimidated in the least.

"So what now, Peeta? You don't think you can trust me. Or your dad, or Katniss, or anyone?" I miss the days when she was a sweet little girl who never questioned anything I said, and only talked to me so that I wouldn't be so lonely. I miss a lot.

I don't answer her. My heartbeat slows down, steadily. My breathing returns to normal. I push the door shut with a wave of my hand. It doesn't move fast or hard, and she stops it before it closes completely, following me down the hallway in my house.

"Peeta, stop this. You can trust me, and you can trust my sister. Don't do this to yourself." Her voice is soft and caring.

"This is what I've been doing the whole time, isn't it? Isolating myself." Maybe I wasn't the one being abandoned, but the one abandoning. Maybe that's why my brothers did it, because I left them.

I am bitter, and heartbroken, and haunted. Trusting people hasn't gotten me anywhere, and I just want her to tell me things will be all right, even if it's a lie. "Not at first. I saw what happened with your family. They were scared, and they weren't ready. But they would have been, if you would have given them the chance. Eventually, things would have gotten better. But you pushed them away too soon, and now..." She trails off. Brutally honest, is what she is, and I can't stand it.

"I need sleep," I say, drowsily. It is true that I need sleep, but I also just want to be alone. I want her to leave my house, and I want to fall asleep. And then I never want to wake up. Painting has always helped me deal with difficult things that I don't want to think about, but I still don't have paints, or an easel, or brushes. The only real possessions I have are the clothes that Portia gave me. Somehow, though, it doesn't even feel right to be excepting them. A distant part of me takes this as a sign that I am, in fact, distancing myself from those who love me. I need to stop that. Now. Right now.

Tomorrow.

"Oh no, you don't," Prim says, pointing a finger up at my sagging form. "I'm not going to leave you alone to wallow in your own self-pity. I'm getting Katniss."

I don't even have the time to dispute it before she is gone. I am too tired. I can't keep my eyes open. I can't keep my legs under me. I slide towards the ground, my prosthetic leg locking, momentarily. It ends up sprawled awkwardly and unnaturally underneath my body, my other leg straight out, and my head slumped uncomfortably against the wall. Considering the fact that it is excruciatingly painful, I am asleep in seconds.

I dream of betrayal. Katniss drops the tracker jackers on my head. Slips me the sleep syrup. Points the arrow at my chest. Haymitch presses the button again, and again, never sending anything to me. My mother hits me, her fist is like iron. My brothers plot my destruction. Prim and Ophelia talk in hushed whispers that I am not privy to. The worst part? It isn't a dream.

"You're too heavy." The words I hear as soon as my eyes are open.

I twist, trying to see where her voice came from. She's sprawled out on the floor next to me, propped up on one elbow, facing towards me. My whole body aches from the way I've been laying. I pull my arms out from their awkward positions, clenching and unclenching my fingers, trying to get the circulation back. I think that the only part of me that isn't asleep is my Capitol leg. Great.

"Is that a fat joke?" My voice falls flat. Katniss frowns.

"I only meant that I couldn't move you. I tried, that couldn't have been comfortable." Her eyebrows push together.

I laugh. Which is when I realize that I still trust and love Katniss, even if I shouldn't do either. She smiles at my laughter, and helps me into a sitting position. I stretch out my limbs, trying to regain the feeling I've lost while sleeping. "How long was I out?"

"A couple of hours." She shrugs.

"That long? Why didn't you wake me?"

"No point. I thought you probably needed to sleep. You still do, I bet. This time though, I suggest your bed." She stands up, helping me to my feet. It takes an effort on my part, I'm so stiff.

"What about you? Don't you need sleep?"

She looks around, nervously. "I'm fine."

"You can go home if you want. I'm fine alone. I don't know what Prim thinks I'm going to do, but I promise I'll be fine, Katniss." I look her in the eyes, nearly running into a wall in the process.

She grabs hold of my elbow, steadying me. I'm steady, but she leaves her hand there, looped through my arm. I'm so warm in that spot that her skin is touching mine. "Maybe..." She says, studying my face. "But I'll stay anyways."

I don't push it any farther. I fall down on my bed and lay there, wondering what Katniss is going to do. I want her to lie down next to me just as much as I want her to just go home. She does neither. She sits on the floor, leaning against the wall by my head. I roll over on my stomach, hanging my hand over the side of the bed. She takes it in both of hers, turning it over and back again.

Suddenly, it doesn't matter that my brothers have betrayed me, or that I feel like I can't trust anyone. I am here now, in the present, and I don't need to think about the past or the future. And I am happy.

A/N--Sorry, this was kinda short. I thought Peeta could use some happiness :). What do you think? Good, bad? Review!