Chapter Eighteen: A Turn of Events

"How vast was a human being's capacity for suffering. The only thing you could do was stand in awe of it. It wasn't a question of survival at all. It was the fullness of it, how much could you hold, how much could you care."

Janet Fitch (White Oleander)

"We should really get to class, Peeta."

I don't even wait for him to reply before opening the door and getting out of his car. I'm nervous now that he knows about Snow. I don't know how he intends to help me and I'm not going to get my hopes up. In fact, I don't want him to be involved in any of this at all. I don't want him or Mr. Mellark to get hurt because of me. I'd never forgive myself if that happened.

When we get to class and sit down at our usual table, it takes no time at all for people to notice that my hair is down. I now regret the decision, because instead of drawing attention away from my neck, I might as well have worn a big neon sign pointing straight at it.

Luckily Peeta had the foresight to bandage the cut this morning, so thankfully no one knows exactly what's hidden beneath it. I keep my eyes down and try to block out everyone around me.

It becomes rather hard, however, when one of the girls who usually giggles about me and Peeta sitting together asks rather loudly, "What happened to your neck? Did Peeta give you a hickey?"

My mouth drops open. I can't seem to think of a retort, which is probably for the best. It's better not to reply; it'll just make things worse. I simply narrow my eyes in anger and shake my head.

Peeta quips up on my behalf, though, saying a bit heatedly, "She would never let me even if I wanted to. As for her neck, as far as it concerns you, a damned vampire bit her! Turn back around and mind your own business, Clove."

"It's hard to ignore. I can smell your desperation from way over here, Peeta," she replies with an eye-roll and a smirk.

A few classmates laugh at her insult and I feel like dying on the spot. I just want Peeta to be quiet; he doesn't need to defend me. Besides, it just reinforces what people think—that we're together.

"You sure know how to pick on people with tired, cliché insults. You're obviously way more superior than we are. In fact, you're probably too good to even be talking to us. So don't." He turns to me, red in the face, and obviously agitated. As if to make a point, he says loudly enough for everyone to hear, "Katniss, you are the most beautiful girl in this room right now, and anyone who thinks otherwise can buy a first class ticket to hell for all I care."

I don't know how to respond to that. I'm so embarrassed I could burst. I close my eyes tightly in a hopeless effort to vanquish myself. I know Peeta is only trying to help, but I really wish he'd just shut up. He's only adding fuel to the fire and I don't feel like dealing with any of this. I have enough to worry about as it is.

I hear Clove reply with a laugh, "Ooh! You really told me!" I open my eyes to see her broadcast to the classroom, "I think we can all agree that they're totally screwing. Just goes to show there's hope for anyone." I hear people laugh, but I try to block it out as much as I can.

The rest of the school day goes by pretty uneventfully.

A few people still make snide comments towards me, some of them involving Peeta, but I don't dwell on it. I decide to braid my hair after third hour, figuring that people are going to see my neck anyway. My hair being down just seems to attract unwanted attention.

Peeta and I eat lunch in his car, though he seems a little more silent than usual. I'm not sure what he's thinking about, but he's definitely concentrating deeply on something. I don't ask, though. I'm not sure I want to know. He's perfectly sweet towards me, but also seems to be a bit more annoyee than usual. I know it's not directed towards me, but it's probably because of me. Hard telling what has been said to him in the classes he's had since first hour. I know how cruel people can be. I also know Peeta would never tell me if they said bad things about me, which they more than likely did.

He doesn't ask about Snow again or mention my neck, and I don't bring it up either.

For the first time this week, I don't avoid him for the rest of the day after lunch.

It's almost like a rebellious action against everyone who keeps saying mean things about us. I know it's affecting Peeta a lot more than it is me; he's not used to it as much. Maybe he's used to it from his family, but not from classmates. I know he feels some sort of compulsion to defend me, but I'd prefer he not react or say anything to them at all. Sometimes silence can be more powerful in defeating an enemy than words. Or, at least, it makes them bored enough to leave you alone sooner rather than later.

After school, we pick up Prim and go to the bakery. Peeta has me knead some dough as he and Mr. Mellark walk into another room to talk in private. They seem to be having a very serious discussion, or Mr. Mellark seemed very serious when he asked to talk to Peeta. I'm curious, but I don't ask. I really hope that he's not telling his dad about Snow, though. Prim comes back to keep me company and tells me excitedly about her day and how she made a new friend who just moved into town. I try to focus on her and push the negative, fearful thoughts out of my head.

When Peeta finally comes back into the room, he goes straight to work without a word. He never bothers to tell me what he and his father were talking about, nor does he allude to it in any way. It's not my place to inquire about it either. I'm sure that if it concerned me or if he wanted me to know, he'd tell me.

He tries to appear as normal as he can, although I can tell something big is weighing on his mind. His eyes have this distant look in them. He speaks to me as he would any other time, but he's not focused on what's going on at all. It's like he's on autopilot.

At the end of the night, Peeta locks up the bakery. It's pretty late and Prim is already about to pass out; I'm starting to feel a little drowsy myself.

When we approach his car, however, my heart drops to my stomach and I'm instantly filled with paranoia. All four of Peeta's tires are flat.

Upon closer inspection, they're not just flat—each one has been sliced.

Peeta is silent as he inspects the damage. I can tell that he's angry beyond words. He turns to me and closes his eyes, rubbing them with his fingers as if he's trying to rid himself of a migraine.

"Who do you think would do this?" I ask quietly, breaking the dead air that surrounds us. My mind is racing with all of the possible culprits. "Do you have a security camera?"

"No, but I'm definitely installing one as soon as I can tomorrow," he replies with a frustrated sigh. He opens his eyes and runs a shaky hand through his hair. "I can't believe someone would do this! I bet it was some asshole from school."

"It really could have been anyone," I say. My mind suddenly goes to Snow and I feel sick to my stomach—maybe this was some sort of warning? "What are you going to do? Do you have any spares?"

He shakes his head. "No. I mean, I have one, but it's not going to do any good with all four of them like this." Prim is still standing silently beside me, looking just as worried as me and Peeta.

"Just call your dad. He can come pick us up, right?"

Peeta bites his lip and glances away from me.

"Normally I would, but he's out of town tonight. He won't be back until tomorrow."

I start to feel panic set in.

"So how are we getting home?" I ask, hoping he has some alternative up his sleeve.

"I don't know. I guess I'm staying in the bakery for the night," he replies, looking at me in defeat. "I'm sorry I can't give you two a ride. Do you have anyone you can call to come get you?"

I think for a second and realize there isn't. The only person that comes to mind is Gale and he doesn't own a phone. I shake my head slowly.

Peeta lets out a heavy sigh and glances around for some sort of solution to our problem. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cellphone.

"I'll try to call Proja. No promises, though. He usually doesn't answer for me."

I watch as he dials and places the phone to his ear. He does this a few times in a row, over the span of about five minutes, before rolling his eyes in anger and giving up.

"I'm sorry, Katniss. I really am. The only other people I can think of are my uncle and aunt. They're in a different town, though, and they turn their phone off after nine o'clock. But I'll still try."

He calls them, but no one answers.

He rubs his eyes again and tells me in a defeated voice, "I don't know what to do. I don't know anyone else who would help. I can't get these fixed tonight; not this late, anyway. I hate to say it, but we're all stuck here for the night. Again, I'm really sorry. I wish there was something I could do."

Prim looks up at me, worried. I can tell exactly what she's feeling and thinking because I am too. Snow is going to flip if we don't show up. Actually... that can't be for certain; sometimes he doesn't even notice us at all. It just depends on his mood or what type of drug he's on. Besides, maybe we'll be lucky that he never even came home tonight.

It doesn't really matter anyway. We're stuck here regardless. I'll just have to deal with everything else when the time comes. Maybe Snow will let me explain; maybe I won't have to explain at all.

Peeta insists that Prim and I take the bed upstairs, and he sleeps on the couch in the downstairs dining room. We're all pretty worn out and stressed, so we don't really say much else before we go to bed. Prim questions me about what I think Snow will do before she falls asleep. I don't know how to answer, so I just tell her to be quiet and not to worry about it.

Soon, she falls into a deep slumber beside me. The quiet is deafening, and I feel enveloped in the darkness of the room and the negative thoughts in my head. It's very comfortable to be lying in an actual bed, but I can't fully appreciate it. I have so many questions about today, my mind is racing. I have no idea who would want to slice Peeta's tires. I can't shake the strong feeling that it had something to do with me, and I can't help feeling terrible and guilty about it all.

Eventually, after what seems like hours of lying awake, I finally drift to sleep.

I'm not sure what time it is when I wake up. I know that it has to be in the early morning hours, sometime after midnight. I quickly find the upstairs bathroom to relieve myself and I'm surprised to see that it's basically like a regular home bathroom, with a bathtub and everything. There's a cup on the side of the sink, so I rinse it out and get a drink to alleviate my parched mouth.

I look at myself in the mirror and take a deep breath as I shake my head. How did I get to this point? What in the world am I doing here?

I push the tired thoughts from my head and start to make my way back to bed. And then I hear it….

Peeta's tormented scream from downstairs.

Instantly, I'm filled with panic. What if Snow came to find me and Prim? What if he's down there hurting Peeta right now? I'm caught between fight or flight; should I go help him or stay where I am to protect me and Prim?

My whole body is trembling with fear and my heart is beating out of my chest. I can't breathe. I can't think. I don't know what to do. I can't seem to move one way or the other; I just stand where I am, frozen with dread.

"No! NO! Please stop… please. Get away! Help!" Peeta's pleading, fearful voice calls out again, sending chills down my spine. The desperation in his voice is palpable; I can tell he's in tears or next to it. I bite my lip and stand at the top of the stairs, anxiously wondering what to do.

Then he lets out such a mournful, hopeless cry that I finally make up my mind. If Snow is down there, it's all my fault, not Peeta's. I can't continue to let him get hurt because of me—it's just not right, and I can't let myself be such a coward by hiding up here.

Regardless of whether it's Snow or not, someone needs to intervene and stop what's happening to him. After all, I have no doubt that if the tables were turned, Peeta would have already done so for me.

I look around for something I can use as a weapon to defend myself if need be. I decide to go with a thick and sturdy rolling pin. I muster every bit of courage I have as I slowly and silently descend the stairs. The closer I get, the louder his cries become. I don't hear anyone else's voice no matter how hard I strain my ears, however. Who is it and what exactly are they doing to him? My mind is racing with every possible horror imaginable.

I tiptoe through the darkened backroom and make my way out into the storefront as stealthily as I can. The only light to be seen is the one from outside, shining dimly through the windows. It casts eerie shadows on the floors and walls, making everything feel so much more foreboding—especially with Peeta's haunting cries breaking the silence of the night.

I hold my breath, my body shaking with adrenaline, and try to gather the bravery I need to peek into the dining room. I hear him holler out again, as if in pain, and push all of my dread to the side. If I'm going to help him, I need to do it sooner rather than later. I can't chicken out now.

I finally look in at him…. He's completely alone.

I stand there for a minute, trying to calm myself down. I feel so relieved that there isn't anyone else in the bakery with us. I place the rolling pin on a nearby table and take a few deep breaths, shaking my hands in an attempt to dispel any remaining anxiety.

Peeta is only having a bad dream.

Well, I guess I shouldn't say only, because whatever sort of nightmare he's having at the moment must be a truly horrific one. Still, I'm relieved that whatever is happening to him is only in his imagination and not real.

"No, no… no… don't! Please… stop…" he begs passionately, his hoarse voice coming out with a hint of a cry behind it. I watch as he kicks at the air and his tightly balled fists punch aimlessly out in front of him as if to keep something, or someone, horrible away.

I'm not sure what to do.

I know I should probably pretend that I didn't see or hear anything, just leave him be and go back to bed. But I can't seem to make myself turn around. It makes my heart break to witness him in such pain and anguish.

He starts to whimper and I just can't take it anymore.

Without another thought, I quickly walk over and sit beside him on the couch. His body is very stiff now, with every muscle flexed. His hands are still in tightened balls and almost all of the blood has drained from them. He shakes his head, drawing his brows together. His jaw muscles tense and release repeatedly. He begins to mumble quietly and incoherently, but I can still hear the misery in his voice. I'm used to him being so cheerful and sweet all of the time that seeing his inner demons on display like this, without his knowledge or consent, is a bit much to take in.

I gently place my hand on his shoulder and shake it a little. "Peeta…." I whisper loudly, trying to wake him up.

He only kicks again and shakes his head, moaning "no" repeatedly. He's so pitiful, so vulnerable, that he seems like a little child to me rather than a nearly full-grown man.

I shake his shoulder a little more strongly and say his name a second time. I just want whatever he's experiencing right now to vanish. I want him to wake up and be happy again. Or as happy as he normally seems to be.

He's still not responding to me in any way. My hand remains on his shoulder and I can feel his body trembling heavily beneath it. I shake him a little more vigorously, but he only shudders and continues to shake his head frantically, yelling, "Get away! Get away from me!" I know it's not intended for me, but for the monster behind his eyelids.

"Peeta, wake up!" I yell, placing both of my hands on his shoulders. I shake him with force, but still, his eyes don't open at all. As he starts to whimper and mumble again, continuing in his attempts to fight off some invisible enemy, I lean down and tell him in his ear, "It's just a nightmare. It's not real. It isn't real, Peeta! Wake up… please? Please, Peeta. I'm here; it's just me. I won't hurt you…."

His body stops fighting, but he's still shaking. His voice comes out cracked and childlike as he whimpers, "It's so dark… too dark. I can't see. I can't breathe—"

My hand goes to his face, pushing the dampened blond curls off of his forehead. I linger for a second as he flinches under my touch before slowly bringing my palm down to his cheek. He seems so fragile, so broken. I feel so powerless. I can't fight the demons in his mind; I can't even seem to wake him up. I close my eyes and bite my lip, wondering what to do next. I can't let him continue on like this.

He starts to squeak out in despair, "I'm sorry… I'm sorry—"

I can't take it anymore. I can't stand seeing him like this.

Unsure of what else to do and feeling desperate, I take my chances and act on impulse by kissing him on the mouth. I kiss him to stop the hollowed, dismal words from escaping his lips, and to somehow transfer his hurting to myself. I just want Peeta back and I want the darkness of his dream world to disappear.

He draws in a deep, raspy breath. His body stops shaking and goes extremely rigid, but I continue to plant small kisses on his lips. His hands go to my chest and before I can react at all, I'm on the bakery floor with the breath knocked out of me.

Mortified, I look up at him in hurt and surprise. He sits up on the couch and frantically looks around the room. As the situation starts to dawn on him and he realizes what he's just done, his face drains of color and his eyes widen with apology as they settle on me.

"Katniss!" Before I can say anything or push him away, he's on the floor next to me, cradling me in his arms as if I'm the one who just woke from a terrible nightmare. "I'm so sorry! Oh god. I am so, so sorry. Are you hurt? I didn't mean to—"

"I'm just fine," I assure quietly. His arms stay in place around me. "Seriously, Peeta. I'm perfectly okay. I'm more worried about you."

He releases me and leans back to look at me in confusion. "Why?"

I'm speechless for a moment. Does he seriously not remember the horrific dream he was having only moments ago?

"You were having a really terrible nightmare. You were screaming and thrashing about, and I couldn't wake you." Peeta doesn't seem surprised by this. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, placing his face in his palms.

"I was hoping it wouldn't happen here. I'm really sorry, Katniss. I didn't mean to wake you. It doesn't happen all of the time, usually only when I'm stressed."

"What doesn't happen all the time?"

His hands drop from his face and into his lap.

"Night terrors. I've had them for as long as I can remember. I mean, I don't really remember them or even know when I have them, aside from waking up with a scratchy throat, bruises, and achy muscles. But I've been told about it by my mom and brothers before. They think I'm a freak, but I sleep in the basement now so I don't bother them with it," he says all of this quickly, carefully avoiding my eyes as if he believes what they say - or that I might think the same as them

It all makes sense, him having night terrors. I've witnessed firsthand how Peeta can change his emotions on and off like a light switch. He bottles things up when he's awake, but can't control his subconscious when he dreams. His mind seems to betray him that way — it can't take all the pressure. It has to find release somehow.

And I really want to know what he was dreaming about, because it seemed to truly haunt him. My mind keeps going back to Mrs. Mellark and I hate it. I don't want to think about what she's done to him... especially as a little child.

"You're not a freak!" I can't help my voice coming out a little more defensive than it should; it's late, I'm tired, and this whole day and night has been more than a little overwhelming. "You can't help it. There's nothing wrong with you at all!"

Peeta glances at me and frowns, looking ashamed and dejected.

"Look, I know it's weird, okay? I wouldn't hold it against you if you have no interest in me after this. Not that you were ever really interested anyway, but still…."

I shake my head.

"Peeta, I've seen plenty of weird. You're not even close," I state. He shrugs as if he doesn't actually believe me and looks away again. I gather my courage, feeling my cheeks turn bright pink. My voice shakes as I finish as strongly as I can, "And if I'm not at all interested, why am I going on a date with you?"

He turns back to me in an instant, his eyes suddenly bright and curious. "You're what?"

I shrug and look at the floor. "You asked. You still want to, right?"

This seems to cheer him up in an instant.

"Yes!" he replies quickly, nodding. He clears his throat and says a little more quietly, "I mean, you never really answered me. So I assumed you didn't want to, and I didn't want to pry or anything—"

"Well, you have your answer now." I suddenly feel very self-conscious. What did I just agree to? I really just wanted to make him feel better and to stop feeling so badly about himself. I don't know the first thing about going on a date, or how this will even be possible. I mean, what about Prim? I can't leave her home alone.

I'll figure that out later, I guess.

I take in a deep breath as his arms go around me again without any sort of warning. "Thank you, Katniss! Thanks for giving me a chance."

"Sure," I reply awkwardly. I start to get up off of the floor, and he releases me. I just stand there, unsure of what to really say, as I cross my arms over my chest. "Well, it's late and we should probably get some sleep for school while we still can."

He nods and moves to the couch. "Yeah. You're right."

We're both silent for a moment as we look at each other, neither of us moving an inch. He sighs and runs his hand through his hair.

"Katniss?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you… I mean, you don't have to," he hesitates, "but it'd be really nice and I'd probably sleep a little better—"

"You want me to stay?"

He shrugs and nods at the same time, looking up at me bashfully. "Please? Only until I fall asleep."

I look at him for a moment. A part of me wants to, but another part of me thinks that this is simply too much, too soon. But what do I know about this sort of thing at all? This is all new to me. Besides, I've slept next to Gale more times than I can remember. I'll just treat this the same way. It doesn't have to be a big deal.

He seems to sense or see the trepidation on my face because he quickly adds, "I'm not going to try anything funny. I promise. It's just… being around you makes me happy and I don't want any more bad dreams."

I release a long breath and find myself giving in. I let my crossed arms fall down to my sides.

"Sure. Whatever. Why not?" I sit down on the couch beside him and stare at my lap, purposefully avoiding looking in his direction. "What now?"

"I'm not really sure," Peeta says quietly. "But thank you."

I roll my eyes and smile slightly. "You can stop that, you know."

"What?"

"Thanking me."

He leans over and quickly kisses me on the cheek and I look over at him with an eyebrow raised in question. "I will never stop thanking you," he states with a grin.

"Now have sweet dreams, okay? Just think of cakes and cookies, doughnuts and pies," I joke to alleviate my nerves, nudging him lightly with my shoulder.

"If I want to have sweet dreams," he replies, "I'll just think of you."