Prim/Hijacked!Peeta, she visits him once while Katniss is in District 2

lawrencelys


He's just a boy. Remember that. Remember that he's just a boy who loves my sister. Who loves baking and painting and smiling. Just remember that when you're in there and it'll be okay.

This is what I tell myself as I linger outside the stark white doors that hold Peeta Mellark. It's what I need to think about as I look in the little window, peeking my eyes over the edge to watch him pace a mark into the floor.

If it weren't for my position in the hospital wing, I'd never have been allowed down to this end of the treatment ward. Despite my age, they've granted me access to this boy who is so broken in the hopes that I'll be able to help him.

And I'll try. I know I will.

I just have to remember that he's just a boy who's been torn apart by terrible things and is having some trouble putting it all back together. That's what I'm here to help him with.

I reach up on my toes to gaze through the thick glass one more time. I can't help but think about the fact that Katniss would never let me in here, not in a million years, if she were here right now.

But she's not and I'm not sure if that's a good thing.

My fingers rest on the doorknob as I pull in a deep breath, flicking my eyes towards the guard who manages the impressive lock system that keeps Peeta in lockdown. I hear the gears clicking in place and watch as his body tenses. He hears it too.

He's just a boy who needs help.

I turn the knob fully and step in past the threshold. He glares at me in return, his shoulders pulled back and an angry look on his face.

"Hello Peeta. My name is Primrose and I'd like to help you." When he steps towards me, his hands clenched at his side, I resist the overwhelming urge to retreat.

He won't scare me off.

"Have you come to finish me off then?" His voice is rough as though he's been screaming himself hoarse. I shake my head no and can feel my braids swinging slightly. There's a crack in his mask of anger and for a just a moment I can see the Peeta I once knew from the bakery.

He's still in there, trying to get out.

"I want to help you. Can I do that?" I tilt forward gently on my toes, my body leaning towards him in an attempt to disarm him mentally. I try to put him at ease like I used to with the injured miners who my mother treated.

"I don't need help from you or your goddamn mutt sister! Get out!" In an instant he's changed again, back to the frightening figure that could kill with his hands. He's coming towards me again and this time I step back. "Get out." It's a threat and I take it seriously, retreating to the door but never turning my back on him.

Just as I'm about to leave I see him turn as his shoulders slump forward and he grips the side of the medical bed. His knuckles are white with tension as he holds the cold metal. In that moment I know I can't leave him.

I step forward towards him, my feet taking me forward before I really know what I'm doing. When I place my hand between his shoulder blades he jerks as if burned.

"Please." His request is sad and broken and I can't leave him when he's hurting like this.

"I'm here to help you Peeta. What do you need?" My voice is soft, the way I'd tend to a frightened animal.

"I can't figure it out. Not any of it." He never looks at me as he says it. I don't move, my hand still resting on his back.

"What can't you figure out?"

"I don't know what's real. It's all mixed up. All of it. I can't tell. It's all screaming and rage and I can't tell if it's real." I can hear the panic rising with his words and my chest hurts with sorrow for him. I feel the tears prick at my eyes but I hold it together and step to his side running my hand down his arm into his palm.

"We'll figure it out, Peeta. Don't worry – we will."

And I know that we must because he doesn't deserve this. He's just a boy who loves my sister. Who loves to bake and paint and smile. And he just wants to make sense of this insanity that no sane person can really grasp.