A/N-I know I haven't updated in forever. Don't get mad, please! I will update more often! REVIEW, PLEASE (no negative comments, please)! Well, here goes nothing.

Thoughts race through my head as I make my way to Peeta's house. My pale blue blouse flutters in the wind, and my dark pants cling to my legs. I made sure to wear my simple pair of black shoes. I fiddle with my fingers as I near Peeta's new house…in Victor's Village.

My mind just won't shut up. I begin to worry about everything, but I have to remind myself to breathe. Peeta always did say I was such a worrier. He is so right.

Before I know it, Peeta's house is right in front of me. I saunter to his front door and freeze. I begin to remind myself to breathe again. Why am I so nervous today?

My fist clenches, and I knock erratically. Way to be smooth, Madge. Peeta opens the door with a smile nonetheless.

"Hey," I breathe out the word. A smile has overtaken my face. I knew I was worried for nothing.

"Hey," he replies. He motions for me to enter, and I do. This is not the first time I've been in his house, but its extravagance still surprises me.

"How have you been," I ask.

He shrugs. "I've been better," he replies. "You?"

"I'm fine," I lie. "I'm broken," I want to whisper, but I don't.

"Would you like something to eat," he asks.

"Sure." He leads me to the immense kitchen filled with all of the latest technology.

As he scans the kitchen for something to eat, I look through his kitchen. I look at the fancy countertops and the fancy cabinetry all the way from the Capitol…

"Hey, would you like some pudding?"

"Sure," I reply as I continue examining his kitchen. I glance back at Peeta who looks very cute at the moment as he bends down to grab the pudding from the fridge.

Peeta hands me a bowl of the creamy substance and I thank him. "I forgot to give you a spoon," he observes as he stares at the bowl in my hand. He goes in one of his drawers and digs out a shiny spoon. I do notice, though, that he doesn't have a single knife in his drawer. He just has spoons and forks. The observation confuses me.

"Why don't you have any knives," I ask, puzzled.

Peeta hands me the spoon and slowly closes his drawer. He develops a strange look on his face that I don't recognize. "Knives are dangerous," he mumbles.

"Peeta, that's silly," I say.

"Is it," he yells. His sudden outburst surprises me as I take a step back. He sees the fear on my face as we stare into each other's eyes. "I'm so sorry," he says sincerely. He tries to take a step near me, but I take another step back unconsciously. I remain mute, scared to make him yell again. "Madge, I really am sorry."

"It's fine. Just surprised me is all," I answer. "Thanks for the pudding," I say to change the subject. I eat a spoonful to have something to do. The atmosphere is awkward as he leads me to his living room. I sit on the couch next to him. I'm furious with myself. All of this could've been avoided if I had avoided the stupid conversation about the knives.

"How's life in this big house. Are you lonely?" His face is blank as he shrugs his shoulders.

"Sometimes I miss my family, but I was bound to move out eventually," he responds.

"Oh," I spit out. I don't know how to respond. We sit in awkward silence. It was never like this. We used to laugh and joke around. We would smile and enjoy each other's company. Where did that go? Where did Peeta go?

"How's your mother," he asks.

"Fine," I lie again. I eat some more of my pudding until it's all gone. I put it on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"I'm going to use the restroom. I'll be right back," he says as he gets up from the couch. He climbs the stairs and begins to amble to the bathroom at the end of the hallway.

"Ok," I call up to him. I wince at how delayed my reply was, but Peeta should be used to it by now.

After Peeta has been gone for a bit, I become bored. I begin to observe his house in greater detail. I notice a painting that must be new that now hangs on one of the walls. I don't know how I missed it.

The painting is of fire, an interesting choice for a painting. I see many strokes of reds and oranges. I look over at the stairs, but it doesn't look like Peeta is coming down anytime soon, so I examine the painting some more. As I take a closer look, it doesn't seem like it's just of fire…trees are on fire.

The heavy strokes of red, orange, and yellow make it hard to see the trees. There are, though. The scene is actually pretty horrific as I examine even more closely. I begin to see tiny animals running for their lives. I see a girl. Her hair is in a braid. She runs behind the animals, also fleeing. Realization hits. Katniss, that's Katniss.

That's when the Game makers set the arena on fire. I frantically look at other pictures placed in this room. I look at one of a tree. It seemed innocent enough. I hadn't paid close attention to it until now. I begin to make out the shape of a camera hidden in one of the wrinkles of the trunk.

I take a look at another painting. It's a hand cradling…berries. It's a picture of Peeta holding Nightlock. How did I never notice? His house is filled with these horrific paintings.

"Peeta," I yell. He has taken a long time. I go up the steps and jog down the hallway to the bathroom. "Peeta," I say more softly as I reach the door of the bathroom. I don't hear a reply. I put my ear to the bathroom and hear the sink running. What the heck? I open the door slowly, and I am stunned by what I see.

Peeta hovers over the sink scratching at his hands until they bleed. "Peeta," I say horrified as I watch his blood trickle down the drain. Peeta doesn't even acknowledge me. "Peeta, stop," I demand. He doesn't stop his consist scratching. I rush over to him and turn the water off. He still keeps scratching at himself.

"Blood, there's blood all over my hands," he mumbles over and over again.

"You're making yourself bleed. That's why! Now please stop," I say desperately.

"Their blood is on my hands. Their blood is on my hands," he repeats over and over. I take my hands and put them over his bloody ones to try and stop his scratching. He does as he stares blankly at our hands.

"See? Isn't that better," I say, trying to not show him how much he's scaring me.

"I could kill you, you know," he says blankly. My eyes go wide, but I don't move.

"But you wouldn't," I whisper, scared.

"I could, though, and I could get away with it. I'm a Victor. The Capitol needs there Victor," he mumbles. "Am I correct?"

"I guess," I whisper, trying not to show how terrified I actually am.

"Are you afraid?"

"Huh?"

"Are you afraid I'll kill you? I've done it before. I've had experience," he says with an odd expression gracing his features.

"No," I say confidently. He shakes his head. "Peeta, you had to kill the other tributes. It wasn't your fault. The Capitol made you."

"That's not true," he mutters, suddenly becoming angry. "The Capitol put the knife in my hand; I didn't have to throw it. I didn't have to kill! I chose to!"

"Is that why you don't have knives in your house," I ask, realizing this was the worst time to ask.

"I was afraid to hurt someone. I was afraid to hurt you, Madge! If I can't trust myself, how can you trust me?"

"You would never hurt me," I say as I take a step to him. I am still holding onto his hands, and I can feel them clench.

"Madge, don't."

"You would never hurt me," I repeat as I take another step towards him.

"How can you be so sure?"

"You care about me too much," I answer. I gaze into his pained eyes for a long time.

I begin to clean his hands, but he doesn't say anything. The blood pours down the drain. He hurt himself pretty bad. The thought of Peeta doing this to himself pains me in ways I cannot explain.

"Why are you doing this," he asks quietly.

"Because I love you. I've lost you once, Peeta. I am not going to lose you again."

A/N-Yeah, so Peeta is a poor wreck. He gets better, though. More Gale next chapter. REVIEW, PLEASE!