Sleep is hard to come by, and last night was no exception. Peeta's heartbroken face and yells calling me back to his house haunted me every second. When Greasy Sae arrives in the morning, it was clear that I am in no mood to talk. Instead, she updates me all on the reservations she got for the restaurant and the menu.

She raises an eyebrow at me when I bring her men's clothing to clean along with my dirty bed sheets. I give her a pointed look to not ask any questions, and she drops it. After she leaves, I sit in my living room and turn on the television that I have been avoiding for months. The news is on, and from what Greasy Sae has told me, propos have not gone away. A series has emerged focusing on progress of each of the thirteen districts.

First up today is District 2. That's when it happens. Gale's face fills the screen, and my heart stops at the sight. He's standing beside Beetee, and they are discussing the new security system they've been developing. Gale says nothing. He just smiles into the camera. I can't help but think about how ironic it is to have the man that killed my sister protecting the new Panem.

Then, the screen flashes to the square of 12. The new mayor's speech is playing in the background of a series of shots showing off the new businesses and the crowd. I'm shown smiling with Haymitch and Greasy Sae in her restaurant. I almost look normal, not crazy or mentally insane at all. I am no longer the beautiful model I once was in the Capitol, but I look somewhat healthy and at ease. The commentator makes a special note that I am "alive and well."

Then, Peeta fills screen as he gives his brilliant smile. He begins to answer a series of questions about how this bakery will be in honor of the one his parents used to own. In the back ground, Rae lingers a little too lose for comfort.

A knock on my door tears me away from the screen, and I quickly shut it off so my visitor won't see it. When I open the door, I'm surprised that no one is there. I almost think I imagined it until I notice the basket beside my feet. It's a small women basket with a towel covering the ingredients. I can smell the cheese buns inside, and I smile knowing who left them there. I pick it up and notice the silk nightgown beside it. It's dry and cleaned.

For the next couple of hours, I check out Peeta's house from various windows in my house. There are no lights on, and there are no signs of life. If I had to guess, Peeta's should be done baking by now. He would have dropped the cheese buns off around lunch when he takes his break. I've been studying his routine for the past six months. After lunch, he heads back into town to help rebuild.

I climb the stairs to my bedroom and sit in a chair that I placed beside the window. I wait for what feels like forever for any signs of life in Peeta's house. When I finally decide that he is no longer home, I scramble down the stairs and gather his clothes from my kitchen table. I briskly walk to his front door and place his clothes on his doormat. For a second, I consider taking them back and bringing them back with some sort of offering. He brought me cheese buns after all. What would I bring him? A dead squirrel? That would require me to go hunting first.

My moment of hesitation is all that it takes for the door to swing open. I gasp in shock, terrified that someone was there. I fight the urge to attack the intruder. I guess my instincts are still sharp even if my mind is not.

Peeta grins back at me, enjoying my shock. "What? Think you'd leave it there without confronting me?"

I gawk at him, feeling my own heart still hammering in my chest. "No, I didn't think you were home."

He narrows his blue eyes at me, challenging me. "You didn't even knock."

Then, I realize he is holding a wooden crate. It clinks as he talks, so I ask, "What's that?"

"Haymitch's liquor," he explains witha shrug. "He asked me to get it from town for him."

As if on cue, I hear Haymitch's heavy tread behind me, and I turn to look at him. He's wearing sweaty pajamas, and his long hair is tied back. "Thanks, boy. The geese were hysterical this morning." He takes a look at me and then back at Peeta. "Am I interrupting something?"

"No," I quickly answer, not giving Peeta the opportunity to turn this encounter into an embarrassing one. I can't even look at his face.

I watch as Haymitch's eyes drift from the clothes in my hands, to me, and back to Peeta. "Cause it feels like I'm interrupting something."

"You are," Peeta says as he hands the crate to Haymitch. "Katniss ran off last night after confessing her love for me but before I had the chance to do the same."

I'm still looking at Haymitch when his mouth drops open. My own face burning with discomfort. I want to yell profanities at both of them or run, but my feet are frozen in their spot.

"Well, sweetheart?" Haymitch asks with a smirk. He's enjoying this too much.

Finally, I find my courage and my voice. "Thanks for talking me out of my nightmare last night and adding a new one today." I shove the clothes at Peeta's chest and don't wait for him to grab them. He scrambles to catch them as I storm off. Haymitch's laughter almost drowns out the sound of Peeta calling out after me... again.

On the table beside my couch, I find the leather journal Dr. Aurelius gave me. I remember promising him that I would keep up with it and fill it with my personal thoughts that I couldn't or wouldn't speak about. The only promising aspect about it was getting to burn it when it was full.

At first, I didn't keep up with it. I had decided in my old room at the training center that I was going to kill myself the first chance I got. Then, I decided that I couldn't do that without an aid of some sort, like a nightlock pill. I was so brave when I was alone, then the idea of Haymitch finding my lifeless body made me reconsider. I didn't want to be the source of one of his nightmares and a reason to drink more.

When Greasy Sae started to help me, killing myself was completely out of the question. If her little granddaughter, the one in her own world, had found me, then I would have scarred her for life. I couldn't do that even if I wanted to.

That was around the time when I started to actually write in the journal. My first entry was all the reasons I wanted or believed I should die. The first line reads: My name is Katniss Everdeen. I should be dead.

The journal is not nearly as full as it could be, but every now and again I find the motivation to write something down. It usually bothers me for a few days, and I find relief in writing it away. Maybe that Capitol doctor is actually worthy of the title.

Today, I find that motivation again.

"Peeta asked if he could ask me questions. I said yes when I should have said no. Now, I feel more broken. I told him I loved him, and he looked at me like he was the happiest man in the world. I've ruined it now."

I go on and on about I felt when Peeta said he didn't get the chance to confess his love for me. He did that already in the first games. What's left of the world knows how he feels about me. They probably even know how he thought I was a killer mutt. Yet the thought of him confessing his love for me again in private makes my palms sweat. And without the cameras watching, I'd have to tell him what I feel for him.

A week has gone by since my awkward encounter with Peeta at his door. I haven't left my house once in order to avoid him, not that I was planning on leaving or anything. I still watch him from my window, and I've noticed that his schedule seems off. Some days he's late, others he's early. I can't help but wonder if he's doing it to see if he can run into me.

This morning I woke from an awful dream. Peeta and I were on the Victory Tour in District Four, and Finnick offered to take us out on a fishing boat. At the time, he was no more than a lustful victor. While out at sea, a storm rolls in out of nowhere, and the waves begin to grab at our boat. Shark fins swim in the dark water below us.

One particular wave sends us all off our feet. Peeta, Haymitch, and I manage to grab on to a railing. Finnick was not so lucky. Without the aid of his trident, the sharks attack him. Red water spreads out where his body once was. My own hands begin to sweat at the sight, and I feel my grasp slipping. I scream as I fall into the water and to my death.

I woke with a jump, and I could have sworn I was falling. The sight of Finnick's blood is enough for me to be awake and alert for the rest of the morning hours. Instead, I sit quietly on my couch, waiting for Greasy Sae to make her appearance.

I was just beginning to nod off when I hear talking outside of my front door. I quickly move to the window and discretely draw back the dusty curtain. It Greasy Sae and Peeta, laughing and talking. After a few moments, he hands her a loaf of bread and walks away from my house. I scramble away from the window to avoid being caught. If she saw me, she doesn't say anything.

Later that day, I am restless. I feel as if I cannot spend another moment watching a fire, tossing and turning in bed, or sitting in my own house. So, I get dressed and make my way over to Haymitch's around lunch time.

I find him sitting in his kitchen with a bottle of liquor, and I suddenly know what I am here for. "To what do I owe this unpleasant surprise?" He asks me, his voice slurring a bit.

"I'm here to drink," I tell him.

"I've hear that one before," he says as he passes me a fresh bottle. I take a swig and shutter as it burns down my throat. He laughs at my reaction and asks, "Want to play a game?"

I eye him carefully. He seems to be in a surprisingly good mood. "What kind of game?"

He eyes me back. "A drinking game called 'I wish I would have.' One of us shares a mistake we've made or something we wish we would have done differently. No judgment from the other person. Take a drink when you're done or agree with the other."

I narrow my eyes at his suggestion. We'll both be drunk in minutes with the number of regrets that we have. Nevertheless, I nod.

Haymitch grins. "I wish I would have lost the games," he admits shamelessly. He takes a swig from his bottle, and I quickly follow.

I think it is a feeling all victors have felt at least once, if not more. The Capitol ruined all the safety that was promised by forcing victors to do something they didn't want to do. I remember what Finnick had to do and wonder what Snow and the others would have done to me. If it were not for Cinna after the first games, my body would not have been my own.

That reminds me of a big regret that I have been carrying. "I wish I would have made sure Finnick made it up the ladder," I say weakly, knowing that he sacrificed his perfect life for me and the rebellion. I take a swig, and Haymitch follows.

"I wish I would have married my girl," Haymitch says in a sober voice, the soberest it's been this entire conversation. "We were only sixteen, but we could've done it." He took a long drag of alcohol after that confession.

I try not judge him and rush out, "I would have agreed to be the Mockingjay sooner."

It continues on like this for a while as we continue to confess our darkest secrets. Not becoming a drunk, stopping Prim from becoming a medic, coaching tributes better, and so on. Eventually, the room is continuously spinning, and my words slur.

"I wish I would have ate the berries one second faster," I manage to say. But before I can claim my drink, a voice stops me.

"It wouldn't have mattered," Peeta's voice comes from behind me. I swirl around to face him and see an angry look oh his face. "I would have ate them too. The rebellion would have still started, and Prim would have still became a medic."

He's been standing there for a while. His eyes shine with hurt, and I wish that I could take it away. "How long have you been listening?" I ask, the alcohol making me bolder than normal.

"Long enough," he shrugs. "I wanted to let you guys know that I made us reservations at Greasy Sae's restaurant since she's been keeping you two alive and all, but I can see that you might still be drunk by dinner."

Haymitch looks at me and then back at Peeta. "I'll be fine by then, but she might not be. You might have to find us better company." His voice was teasing at the end.

Peeta locks eyes with me, and they feel cold and distant. His hands are balls by his side. "Maybe I will. Six o'clock by the fountain." Then, he's gone.

We sit in the silence of his angry departure. Finally, Haymitch tells me, "A cold shower and lots of water will help."