I awoke with a start in the middle of the night.
A pair of arms gripped my shoulders, and tried to tear me out of bed.
I ruthlessly shoved and clawed until I had freed myself from their violent grasp.
"Get off me!" I screamed.
I felt the same pair of arms clasp tightly around my flailing limbs, trying to hold me back.
In the distance, I heard a panic-stricken voice call out my name.
"No! I won't let you take him," I cried furiously as my hands reached out to where he stood not so far off in the distance.
The voice calling out my name only grew louder and louder with every passing second.
"I won't let you take him away from me," I yelled out frantically, almost on the verge of tears.
Suddenly I recognized the voice that was ever-persistent in its calls—it belonged to Peeta.
"Wake up, Katniss," he urged me softly.
The voice grew closer and closer, until finally I felt it whispering right beside me.
"Wake up," Peeta repeated as he gently shook me out of my slumber.
My eyes automatically shot open as I realized that I had been sleeping all along.
There was nobody holding me back. There were no arms to fight off.
Just Peeta, sitting on my bed right beside me, in complete darkness.
"They're going to take him away from me," I whimpered.
"Shh," he replied as he cradled me in his arms. "It's all just a dream."
"They caught Gale," I cried frantically onto his shoulder. "They caught him, Peeta. They're going to hurt him."
"It was just a dream," he reminded me. "No one's going to hurt him. I'm sure he's just sleeping in his bed right now."
"They're going to catch him," I continued worriedly. "Soon."
"They're not going to catch him," Peeta assured me.
"But President Snow said—" I didn't even want to finish the sentence. I didn't want to think about what might happen. Instead I just buried my head in his shoulder and tried my best not to cry.
"Don't worry," he said trying to console me. "He won't hunt anymore. You're going to tell him today, remember?"
"What if he won't listen to me?" I whispered nervously.
"Oh, he'll listen to you," he said stroking my hair. "Of course, he'll listen to you."
I hope so. Otherwise, we're all doomed.
I realized that I had cleaved on so tightly to his nightshirt, that my hands left an imprint as I gently let go.
Now that I regained control of my senses, I could see the moonlight pouring in from the window, illuminating his face and gleaming across his golden blonde curls.
"You should get some sleep," he suggested, gently caressing my hair.
I looked into his comforting blue eyes and I nodded my head dully.
After that, he made his way out of my bed dutifully, leaving me the to the solitude of my room. As he moved towards the door, the light shone down his arms, illuminating several scratch marks that were viciously etched into his skin.
He was hurt.
My eyes widened with fear.
Because of me.
My hand instantly shot up to my mouth as soon as I had made the realization.
I must have hurt him while thrashing around in my sleep.
My arms quickly darted out to stop him.
"You're hurt."
"I'm fine," he assured me.
I pulled him closer to me so I could inspect the damage that I had done.
I spread his arms out in front of me and carefully examined the bruises strewn all over them. The scratch marks were clearly fresh, the blood still glistening under the moonlight, as it seeped out from under his skin.
"You're not fine," I blurted out. "I hurt you."
"I'll wash it off, and then I'll be fine," he insisted, taking my hands in his. "You just get some sleep, alright?"
I was so emotionally strained and exhausted at that point, that all I could do was to nod back weakly and fall into bed, wrapping my pillow into a tight embrace.
I fell into a dreamless sleep soon after that.