Chapter Twenty-Seven: Stay

"And the past held only this wisdom: that love was a damaging mistake, and its accomplice, hope, a treacherous illusion." —Khaled Hosseini

As Peeta gazes down at me, I recognize my own anguish and uncertainty mirrored in his eyes. I reach up and cradle his cheeks with my hands, feeling guilty for placing my fears upon his shoulders. He frowns and knits his brows, but says nothing as I begin to caress his face with my fingertips.

Perhaps it's the painkiller making me more sentimental than usual, but I find myself momentarily mesmerized by him. It doesn't seem like it should be real that I'm here, being this close to someone like him. I'm usually so drawn to his eyes that I fail to appreciate the other small, lovely details about him. Now I drink him in, wondering how it is that his long blond lashes keep from getting tangled when he blinks, or how I never noticed the light dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks. Or how his soft, plump, and impossibly gentle lips—which fit so familiarly against my own—are such a perfect shade of dark pink.

"Katniss?" he whispers strongly. "I promise—"

I place a finger to his lips. I don't want him to make any more promises. I know they're empty words that he's only saying to make me feel better. I've accepted that this situation is far too complicated and dangerous for us to conquer. For now, I just want to be; I want to exist and feel and be alive while I can.

Dwelling on things I know I can't change is pointless, and entertaining the idea of a happily ever after simply hurts too much. As if reading my mind, Peeta looks down at me with a mixture of sadness and longing as I trace my fingers slowly along the outline of his frown. He then takes my hand in his and begins leaving small kisses upon my knuckles. I move my other hand to his nape to guide his face down to my own.

Peeta's lips seem to console me more than any spoken promises ever could. His kisses are gentle - and tangible - and I can feel the promise of safety behind them. Despite all the gloom lurking outside the walls of his bedroom, being here with him like this makes everything seem like it'll be okay—if only for the night. While the pain in my ribs is still there, it's a throbbing sort of dull ache now. It seems far-off and fuzzy; like it's separate from my body. I feel it, but it doesn't seem real.

At the moment, nothing seems real though.

My eyes dart open in confusion as Peeta reaches down to the hem of my shirt and begins to inch it slowly upwards. I might be slightly out of it due to the pain medicine, but I know this isn't the appropriate time or place for such intimacy. Surely he's not ignorant enough to think I want to be touched after everything that's happened tonight or with Prim right in the next room? I place my hand over his and shake my head.

"Peeta, what in the world are you doing—" I start in disbelief, scowling up at him.

"I just want to see what he did to you," he explains quickly. "I won't touch you, I swear. I only want to see how bad it is."

"You already know it's really bad," I reply shortly. "You don't need to see it."

"Right. I know it's bad, Katniss, but I'd still like to see to what extent. I want to help you, but I need to know what we're dealing with," Peeta insists. He leans down to kiss me again and whispers softly against my lips, "Please? Trust me? I know it hurts and I promise I'll only look. I won't touch."

I roll my eyes, feeling self-conscious and irritable, but I can tell from his tone that he's not about to give up easily. I shrug and grudgingly relinquish my grip on his hand.

"Fine. There's nothing you can really do about it, but go ahead and look if it means so much to you."

"Thank you." I bite my lip and look away as Peeta lifts my shirt and bunches it up beneath my breasts. He takes in a deep breath and exhales loudly, "That no-good son of a—"

"Peeta!" I cut him off. "Prim doesn't need to hear you talk like that. Besides, it's not like it's the first time I've ever been hurt like this. I'll live."

"That doesn't make it any better!" he counters heatedly. "No man should ever hurt a woman like this! Ever. It makes me sick. And yeah, you'll live through this, Katniss, but what about next time? Please… just don't go back. Stay with me. You and Prim—"

"I can't. You know I can't. What about my mom?" I ask with an exasperated sigh. "If I leave her there alone, she'll die. And even if Snow doesn't kill us, which I doubt, Coin will find something to charge you with. There are walls everywhere and they just keep closing in. There's no way out. Trust me, if there was, I would've left a long time ago. I think about escaping constantly, but it's no use. I just end up with headaches."

"That's what they want you to think— that it's no use! They want to keep you fearful so you'll stay quiet and be afraid of leaving," he says. "I'm not scared of either of them, though. Let Coin charge me with something stupid—like I give a damn! I've got dirt on him and I can easily turn the tables if he wants to play that game. And the stepmonster? Let him bring it. If I die trying to keep you safe, it's worth it."

"You make it sound so simple." I rub my eyes, my hands trembling. "It's not, okay? You have no idea what you'd be up against or what you're asking me to do. One bad choice on my part and we all die in horrific, drawn-out ways. I know you feel protective right now, but please think rationally. You had a great life before I came into it, and I'd never forgive myself if—"

"No," Peeta cuts me off indignantly. "My life was not great before you were in it! I never knew what great was before you came along. I was living, but I wasn't alive… not like I am with you. I'd rather risk death for a life with you in it, because if something happened to you—if you or your sister died and I could have prevented it—I sure as hell couldn't live with myself."

"Regardless, I still have my mom to think about," I mumble, not knowing what to think of the things he's saying or the implication of it all.

I know what he means about being alive, yet not really living until someone came along to give it meaning. It's the same exact way about him. Sure, I have Prim; she's my sole purpose for living, but that's a given. I love her more than life itself. But with Peeta, I'm awakened. For the first time in a long time, he's made me happy to be alive. It scares and excites me, and I know I should push him away to save him, but for selfish reasons… I can't.

"Does she think about you?" Peeta asks pointedly. "I know it's cruel to say, but she's a grown woman. She chose to marry the man that beats you and your sister. It shouldn't be your burden to pay for her bad decisions. It doesn't look like she does a whole lot of caring for you."

"She can't, Peeta! She's sick. She doesn't know any better! Snow has her brains scrambled."

"From what my dad says, your mom used to be quick-witted and smart," Peeta whispers with a wistful shake of his head. "If he's done this to her, it's only a matter of time before it happens to you or Prim. Again, she made her decision. It isn't selfish of you to—"

I bring my arms over my face. "Can we not talk about all this tonight? I just… I just want to forget it all for a while. I don't want to think about it."

"Fine," he concedes. "But we have to talk about this eventually. I'm serious. We have to make some sort of plan. We can't keep ignoring things, hoping they'll get better. I can't just stand by and watch you die slowly in front of me. I've been doing it for years and I can't do it anymore. You said it yourself, you think he's going to kill you or Prim."

"He'll only kill us if we say anything to anyone," I whisper defensively, "or if anyone tells."

He laughs cynically, "Isn't that like the number one thing abusers tell their victims? Looks to me like he's going to be the cause of your death regardless of who you tell. And what about Prim? She has, what, six… seven more years to deal with the guy? You really think she's going to make it? Think long and hard about it. Not about what might happen tomorrow or next week, but a year from now or five. Do you think you two will survive that long? You need to get away now, Katniss. Not soon. Not later. Now. Please… just trust me. I'll help you. I'll be there for you every step of the way. Just please—"

"Aren't you still living in the same house as the woman who tried to kill you?" I retort. "I'd think you of all people would know it's not so simple."

"It's not simple," he agrees quickly. "I know that. But my situation is a lot different than yours. I was young at the time. I had no one to help me and I really didn't think anyone would believe me. I couldn't prove anything, and even if I tried, I knew my mom's family would pay for the best defense lawyers in the country. The only people who would've been hurt would have been me and my dad."

"It isn't that different, actually. Your mom's family might be rich, but Snow has the whole police department on his side. If I leave, I'll just be brought right back and punished, possibly killed. Or worse, Prim will be. I don't really care if I die, but I can't put Prim's life on the line like that."

"So you won't risk her life to save it? Wouldn't it be better to try to save her rather than just doing nothing and hoping she doesn't die?"

"You see this?" I point to my face and then to the cut on my neck, "And this?" I gesture to my ribs. "These were only warnings. Warnings to keep my mouth shut or we'll be killed. You really think he's joking around, Peeta? Because I sure as hell don't. You don't know the man. You have no idea what he's capable of. He's killed before, or at least he's said he has, and I don't doubt that one bit. I know too much and it makes him paranoid. The fact that we're even still breathing is amazing in itself, and I'm not really feeling the need to push my luck by testing him."

"You're not really changing my mind, Katniss. In fact, you're only making the argument stronger that you need to get the hell away from there—and quickly," Peeta replies. He keeps clenching his jaw and I notice his hand shaking as he runs it through his hair. "You have help if you're willing to accept it. I promise I'll be there for you and help in any way I can. I think you should tell someone higher up than the local authorities. Take a stand. Put these people behind bars where they belong. Let them know they can't hurt you anymore. You'd have no problem proving everything. Take pictures. You have the proof of his abuse on every inch of your body—"

"Care to insult me some more, Peeta? Thanks for judging me. Really, if my body is so disgusting to you then—" I hastily start to pull my shirt down, but he places his hand over mine and shakes his head.

"I'm not insulting you," he interrupts with an exasperated sigh. "And I don't find you disgusting at all. I find the hell you've had to endure very disgusting, though. You're beautiful and I adore everything about you, but I'm not going to ignore or pretend to like the damage he's done to you. You deserve so much better. I want to see you healthy and proud of your body, not trying to hide it. And what about Prim? Do you want her to be the same way when she gets older? So ashamed of things she has no control over that she has a hard time believing anyone would ever like her, let alone love her?"

"Prim is very different than me."

"Prim isn't very different than you at all, Katniss. In fact, she reminds me very much of how you were at her age. You've just been forced to grow up far too quickly. It's only a matter of time before the same thing happens to her… if it's not already too late. The poor girl gets so excited over the tiniest bit of kindness shown to her. Most kids her age wouldn't think twice about devouring a cake or taking a bubble bath." He locks his eyes pointedly onto mine. "You're the same way—so surprised and grateful at any sort of kindness shown to you. It's sad to me that you've come to expect the worst out of people more than the good. It shouldn't be that way."

I don't really know how to reply. I know what he's saying is true, but it's not something I can control. I can't stop people from being cruel. Expecting them to be nice would be naïve and I'd only set myself up to be let down.

"I'm done talking about this. There's nothing I can do about it tonight anyway. Can I put my shirt down now?"

He shoots me a pained look. "You're bruised and swollen pretty bad. I can't tell if anything's broken, but I wouldn't doubt it. You're probably going to hate me for even suggesting it, but you really need to let me put the ice pack on your ribs for a little bit. You need to get the swelling down."

I shake my head and look at him with wide eyes. "You promised you wouldn't touch."

"I know I did," he shrugs, "but you wouldn't have let me see it otherwise. It'll only hurt at first until it numbs, but if it gets too swollen I'm worried it might—"

"Fine!" I blurt, thoroughly agitated. "Shut up and get it over with then!" He doesn't say anything, just grabs a pillow and hands it to me. I frown and arch an eyebrow at him. "What's this for?"

"Like I said, it's probably going to hurt like hell at first. That'll muffle the sound if you need to scream or anything. I'd rather you not wake anyone upstairs," he explains. His eyes harden as he looks down at my ribs again. "Believe me, Katniss, I hate having to do this. The last thing I want is to cause you more pain."

"I know," I reply in resignation before placing the pillow over my face and gesturing for him to get it over with.

It was a lucky thing he had the foresight of giving me the pillow to scream into because that's exactly what I do as soon as the cloth-covered ice pack makes contact with my ribs. I squirm at first and try to remove his hand, but he doesn't budge, so I tense up and bite my lip to keep more screams from pouring out. Whimpers escape me without volition and tears well up in my eyes, both soaked up by the fabric of the pillow.

After a few minutes, the pain starts to subside, being replaced by a cold, tingling sensation. My breath and heartbeat comes back to normal, and I don't have the need to scream or whimper anymore. I finally take the pillow off my face and glance wearily at Peeta. My breath catches in my chest and a pang of both guilt and sorrow shoots through me when I see tears running down his face. All my pain is temporarily forgotten as I have the sudden urge to comfort him instead.

I lick my dried lips and take a deep, shaky breath before whispering hoarsely, "It's okay, Peeta. I'll be okay. Thank you."

He quickly wipes the tears away as if not wanting me to see, and shakes his head as if disgusted with the whole situation. I don't know what to say so I simply place my hand over his. Regardless of whether or not I agree with him about leaving Snow, I don't want him to doubt how appreciative I am that he never, not even for a second, hesitated to help me tonight. I want to believe he could help on a grander scale, but there's a gigantic difference between giving me a pain pill and letting me sleep in his bed than protecting me from an abusive psychopath and his police friends. I whisper another heartfelt 'thank you' which he answers by leaning over to kiss my forehead.

"Katniss? I heard you scream, are you all right?" I hear Prim's frantic voice call out as soon as the bathroom door swings open. Peeta immediately sits back up and, with a grunt and a grimace, so do I.

"Yeah," I answer quickly, waving a hand dismissively. "Peeta just had to put ice on my ribs and it hurt really bad at first. I'm a little better now, though."

I shake my head as she approaches, finding myself amused at how silly she looks in Peeta's clothes. To say they're huge on her tiny frame would be a major understatement. His t-shirt hangs down past her knees, the sleeves almost reach her wrists, and his shorts stop right above her ankles.

"Good. I was scared that maybe Snow…." She trails off, but she doesn't need to finish her sentence for me to know exactly what she'd been afraid of. Instead she sends a timid smile to Peeta. "Thanks for the bubble bath. And for helping Katniss feel better." Prim raises an eyebrow at me, "And I'm glad you let him. I told you he'd help if you asked."

"I told her I would as well," Peeta adds. "Thanks for giving me the benefit of the doubt, Prim. I appreciate it. At least I know one Everdeen trusts me."

Prim nods, looking far too pleased with herself over Peeta's praise, and I'm a little indignant at the both of them. I'm done with arguing the point, though. I ask to use the bathroom and Peeta tells me of course in an bemused tone, as if my question was silly.

As I walk away and shut the door, I can hear them talking to each other, but I don't pay attention to what they're saying. It's probably for the best anyway, since they've obviously taken to conspiring against me here lately.

I purposefully avoid the mirror at first, trying to muster up the courage to look at my injuries. I know they must be pretty bad for Peeta to have reacted as protectively as he had. When I finally find the gumption, I release a slow breath and open my eyes to observe my reflection. I stand in shock for a moment as I stare at myself.

The girl staring back looks nothing like me at all. I've been bruised and battered by Snow before, but not as horrible as this. He usually avoids my face, at least when school is in session. I bring a hand to my eye and wince as I barely touch the deep purple and red bruise that surrounds it. My entire face is swollen, but mostly around my left eye. I'm surprised I can even see out of it at all as it'll barely open a crack and the white around the iris is completely red.

My hair falls past my waist in wet, tangled clumps, making me look even more pitiful than I otherwise would. I'm immediately embarrassed that I've let Peeta see my like this. I don't understand how he could even stomach kissing me.

I finally avert my eyes downward, unable to look at my face anymore.

With a ragged breath, I lift my shirt to assess the damage Snow has done to my ribs. I knew it was bad, but seeing how bad is another thing entirely. I close my eyes tightly and let my shirt fall as I turn away from the mirror. I angrily wipe at my tears and lean against the sink for a few minutes, gulping in deep breaths and holding them to regain my composure.

It's late, and though sleeping is the farthest thing from my mind Peeta insists we all try to. He asks my permission to give Prim some nighttime cough syrup and I let him, thankful that he has some sort of medicine to help her since I didn't bring any with me. Before long, she falls into a deep sleep.

I lie with my eyes closed between the both of them, unable to rest as a million worries plague my mind. I don't know how long I lay there lost in my own thoughts, but I eventually open my eyes again and stare at the ceiling.

Peeta startles me when he sweeps a stray tendril of hair off my forehead and brushes my cheek lightly with the back of his hand. I turn my head in his direction and frown as I see him gazing at me with concern.

"How are you feeling?" he whispers.

"Like hell," I answer honestly. The pain is getting worse or the medicine is starting to wear off. Either way, my ribs are back to feeling like millions of tiny knives are digging into them repeatedly. I can still breathe all right, but it hurts to move my body even slightly. "Why aren't you asleep yet?"

"Thinking too much," he replies with a shrug. "Besides, I'm afraid I'll have night terrors and scare Prim."

"I don't think you need to worry about scaring Prim. You could sprout horns, fangs, and scales and she would still think you're a saint," I reassure with a roll of my eyes. "I've never seen her think so highly of someone before. I'm pretty sure she's in love with you."

"She's a sweetheart and I adore her, too." Peeta smiles at me and gently brushes his fingertips against my cheek. He hesitates before saying something else, but falls silent and licks his lips as he looks away from me. A few seconds later, however, he glances back and locks his eyes onto mine, There's such intensity in his gaze, it makes my stomach flip. "I'm very much in love with a different Everdeen, though," he whispers.

I snort and give him an incredulous look. "Okay, Peeta. Right."

"I'm not joking, Katniss," he insists. Of course I don't think for one minute that he's actually in love with me—maybe the idea of me, but not me. He remembers someone I was before; someone who I'll never be again. He remembers a little girl who gave him courage and kisses and kindness. Now I barely have enough courage to save me or my sister.

Besides, how can anyone else love me when I'm not even sure I love myself? "I love you. I know you probably don't believe me, but I do. I love you."

I scowl at him and roll my eyes, waiting for him to laugh and say he really is only joking. I open my mouth to retort, but nothing will come out. My heart beats rapidly against my chest as I begin to panic. He keeps eye contact with me, though, almost challengingly so, and I finally turn my head and stare at the ceiling again.

My voice comes out shakily when I speak again, "You're obviously delirious. Let's get some sleep. It's late and we have school in the morning."

"I have school in the morning," he says. "You, however, you're going to stay right here in this bed all day tomorrow. You're not going to work, either. I won't let you. You're in no shape to be exerting yourself. Prim should stay with you. She's sick and needs rest, and I saw the bruises on her neck and arm. I think it'd do you both some good just to take it easy after what happened tonight. It's Friday, so it'll only be one day. No one will bother you down here. I padlock the basement door from the inside and you can lock the storm door after I leave. You'll be safe."

"You're being a little bossy," I mutter as I close my eyes. "I'm not sure I like it."

"I'm not being bossy, Katniss. It's called being concerned."

I'm silent for a moment as I think things over. I want to argue the point since I don't like being told what to do, but I know he's right. There's no way I'll be able to make it through the day tomorrow at school or at work. I definitely don't want to be at Snow's mercy either. I have no other option but to stay here until I'm well enough to deal with everything. Finally I whisper a huffed, "Fine."

"You'll stay?"

"Yeah. I guess so."

"Thank you." My eyes dart open as he kisses me on the cheek and whispers in my ear, "And I'm not delirious, by the way. I love you, Katniss Everdeen. I love you, I love you, I love you, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

"You're only saying that because I'm hurt and you want to make me feel better. I don't need your pity, Peeta, and you certainly don't love me," I retort, closing my eyes again so I don't have to see him looking at me. I can still feel his eyes on me, though.

"I don't expect you to say it back, and I don't want you to ever say it unless you mean it. But I want you to know that you're loved—very loved—and I'd do anything for you. Anything at all." I bite my lip, squeezing my eyes tighter as he turns my head in his direction. "I'm telling you all this now because I realized earlier that I could have lost you tonight. In one instant, I would have never been able to see or speak to you again. So, as sudden or soon as it may be, I don't care. I'm going to tell you how I feel from now on because life is too short and precious not to." I slowly open my eyes to look at him again and he sends me a tense smile which I don't return. "So get used to hearing it. I love you."

"I just don't think you know me well enough to say that." I shrug and look away from him again.

"I know you well enough to know how I feel about you," he says. "And the more I get to know about you, it only makes what I feel for you even stronger. You're like… like the layers of a cake—"

"Seriously, Peeta?" I glance over at him, my brows furrowed in disbelief.

"Let me finish?" he asks, looking timid but determined. "You're like the layers of a cake. Each layer adds to the overall deliciousness of the entire thing. Say, you're a triple layer chocolate cake. I know just from looking at you that you're going to be amazing and sweet and tasty, right? I don't even have to try the other cakes to know you're going to be my favorite—"

"Peeta," I snort, but he cuts me off. I roll my eyes and bite my lip to keep from laughing at his ridiculous analogy.

"Anyway, you have three layers of cake and cream in between the layers—the top layer of cake is like your resilience, the middle is your personality, and the bottom is your bravery. The cream in between is the little stuff I notice about you, the glue that holds everything together—your loyalty to your sister and mom, your intelligence and humor, your kindness and humility, your many talents," he leans in and whispers into my ear so Prim can't possibly hear, "the incredible sexiness that I've been lucky enough to catch a few glimpses of and hope to see a whole lot more of in the future."

"Are you finished yet?"

"No," he shakes his head, "I could go on all night, but we don't make cakes with as many layers. Anyway, the things I find out about you along the way—things you like and dislike, your hobbies and dreams and hopes and fears… those are like the many sprinkles on top of the cake. You can take them away and the cake would still be amazing, but the more you add, the better it becomes."

"I'm like chocolate cake?" I arch an eyebrow at him and shake my head. "I'm more like a mud pie, but thanks for being sweet. You'd definitely be a blackberry tart."

He chuckles and leans in close to my ear again. "Does that mean you can't get enough of me? Because if the way you licked the crème off that spoon is any indication—"

"You need to stop," I cut him off by quickly placing a hand over his mouth, my face heating up. "Prim is right next to me, Peeta."

He kisses my cheek and scoots closer to me before gently resting his head on my shoulder. I debate shrugging him away, but it's comforting with him there. He finds my hand under the cover and weaves our fingers together. "Since we both can't sleep, tell me something that makes you happy?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what are some of your favorite things to do?" he whispers. "What are your hobbies, what makes you happy? I want to know as much about you as I can."

"I don't know," I shrug and try to remember the last time I ever did something simply for the fun of it. "I guess I enjoy fishing. It's always a thrill when you catch a big one."

"I imagine it would be," he replies thoughtfully. "I've always wanted to go fishing. Maybe you can teach me how sometime?"

"What?" I ask in stunned disbelief. "You've never been fishing before?"

"Nope."

"Ever? Seriously?"

"Never ever. Not even once. Dad's always been too busy with the bakery to take me. He's never really been much of an outdoorsman anyway. Mom… well, I think she'd go into cardiac arrest if she got dirt beneath her fingernails. The opportunity just never presented itself."

I'm silent for a moment as I don't really know what to say. I can't help feeling a little sorry for him. I always thought fishing was such an easy, common thing that everyone did it. Then again, I remind myself, Peeta grew up in a completely different world than me. He was raised with money and more than enough to eat—he's never had to worry about catching his meals. Besides, I'm sure he enjoys doing a lot of things that I've never even thought about. Maybe I'm the sad one for thinking that catching fish is a fun activity.

"We'll have to change that, won't we?" I finally say. "It doesn't really require any skill, only patience. I find it peaceful, though. I'll have to show you how sometime. Well, as soon as I get a new pole."

"What's wrong with the pole you have now?"

"I don't have one. I use a stick with yarn tied to it. It gets the job done, it's just more of a hassle," I answer, adding bitterly, "The pole I used to have was stolen by a stupid snake."

He laughs and props himself upon an elbow to look down at me. "Okay, you can't just say something like that and not explain. How in the world did a snake steal your fishing pole?"

I smile at the absurdity of the memory. It used to make me sad and angry when I thought about it, but now that I'm older I've grown to find the humor in it. I give a shrug and try to focus on the paintings hanging on the wall in order to avoid his curious eyes.

"I thought I was reeling in a huge fish because it was fighting an awful lot. It was almost dark out, so I didn't see until it was a few feet away that it wasn't a fish, but a very angry looking snake. So naturally, like the logical thirteen-year-old I was, I threw the fishing pole into the lake and ran home as fast I could."

"I probably would have done the same," Peeta says, reaching out and tucking a tendril of hair behind my ear. "I mean, you didn't know if it was poisonous or not. And you can always get a new pole, but not a new you—" I shake my head, cutting him off.

"It wasn't just any old fishing pole, though. It was my dad's, and it was the one he taught me to fish with. It was one of the only things I had left to remember him by since Snow sold almost every other thing he had. I felt so stupid for throwing it into the lake. I should have just cut the line, but I hate snakes and… I panicked. The next day I went back, hoping I'd find it somewhere, but I didn't. I never did."

I glance at Peeta and notice that there isn't a trace of amusement left on his face. With a frown, he leans over and kisses my cheek. "I'm really sorry, Katniss. I didn't mean to bring up any bad memories. If it's any consolation, I hope that stupid snake choked on the hook."

"It's fine," I reply, giving a halfhearted smile. "It was a really long time ago. I was upset at first, but I started cheering myself up by envisioning a snake dragging my pole behind it, saying, 'I'm gonna catch me a fish!' And no matter how sad I was, that always seemed to make me smile. Gotta find the silver lining sometimes, right?"

Peeta starts laughing and, as if it was contagious, I begin laughing too. I cringe and stop almost instantly, however, when my ribs throb with pain so intense it temporarily steals my breath away. I'd been so distracted by talking to Peeta that I'd nearly forgotten about my injuries. We fall into a somber sort of silence for a moment as we're reminded of our present situation.

For the rest of the night, we continue whispering to each other about everything and nothing at all. Peeta cuddles closer to my side, giving me plentiful kisses and comforting caresses beneath the covers. Of course, every touch is chaste and gentle due to the severity of my pain and Prim being fast asleep right beside me. Mostly it's just holding my hand, light brushes against my arm, his thigh playfully bumping into mine, or his foot trying to tickle the soles of my own. I lightly poke him in the side to get him to stop so he doesn't wake Prim, but I know he means well and his antics are a way of trying to get my mind off of the discomfort.

I remind Peeta many times that he has work and school tomorrow, knowing he's going to be extremely tired the whole day, but he insists he wouldn't be able to sleep anyway and he'd much rather talk to me. Selfishly, I'm glad for it. After all, I know if he falls asleep, I'll be left alone to dwell on the pain and dread I'm trying to keep at bay.

He tries to bring up the topic of staying with him again, claiming that he'd treat me well and keep me safe, even adding that he'd make my choice of butterfly cupcakes or blackberry tarts, or both, anytime I ever wanted them. I reply by telling him I don't want to talk about it tonight, and he dolefully accepts my answer and changes the topic to something more lighthearted.

Each time that Peeta insists that I let him help me, that I leave Snow and stay with him and basically throw caution to the wind, my heart breaks a little bit more. It isn't that I don't want to. I'd honestly want nothing more than to take him up on his offer. I know it'd be selfish, though, and way too risky. We might be safe and happy for a little while, but it'd never last. It's too complicated. I don't want to be the one who gets everyone killed. And like Gale had said, being with Peeta isn't worth putting Prim's life in danger.

Before we know it, it's already morning. Peeta gets out of bed and begins preparing for school, and though I know it's necessary, I find that I really don't feel comfortable staying in his bedroom without him here. I halfheartedly ask him to stay with me, but he says he can't - that it'd be way too suspicious if we both didn't go to school and that he definitely couldn't get out of going to work.

I understand what he's saying, but I still feel nervous and out of place when he kisses me, tells me he loves me with a sleepy grin (which I only shake my head at), and finally leaves. I lock the storm door after him and practically run back to the bed to hide beneath his blankets. It already seems ghostly and cold without his warmth beside me, but I lay my head on his pillow and bring the sides of it up to my face, inhaling his scent, which is just as earthy and sweet as he is.

"You guys are so cute together," Prim croaks with a sleepy grin as she opens her eyes and peeks over at me. I immediately bring my hands down to my sides and pretend that I wasn't smelling Peeta's pillow like an idiot. I begin to panic slightly, wondering how long Prim had been awake, pretending to be asleep. She sits up in an instant, asking excitedly, "Did I hear him right? Did Peeta say he loves you?"

"Oh god," I groan and place my hands over my eyes. "Go back to sleep, Prim."

"He did!" she squeals. "You were rude, though. You should have said it back."

"He really doesn't. He's saying it because he feels sorry for me," I dismiss. "And I don't say things I don't mean. He's nice and I like him, I just…" I shrug and heave a sigh. "I'm tired and I'm going to sleep now."

"Yeah, I know why you're sleepy," she claims in a knowing tone. I lower my hand and narrow my eyes at her. "All that flirting with Peeta last night. You woke me up playing footsies, you know."

"I wasn't playing—" I start defensively, my cheeks heating up. Prim starts laughing and nods. "I was not. Shut up!"

"Even if you do love him, you'd never admit it," she shrugs. "I think you do, though. You act all sorts of different when he's around. You get all girly and you look at him all…" She places her hands on her heart and flutters her eyelashes.

"Whatever, Prim. I do not," I snort.

"Do too," she insists.

"Nope."

"Yep."

"I should have had you go to school," I mumble. "You should be nicer to me. I'm in pain." She frowns, her eyes widening as if suddenly remembering.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "How is it?"

"Like a truck ran over me." I close my eyes again. "I'll be okay, though. Peeta gave me another painkiller before he left this morning."

"That's good. I hope you feel better soon," she replies as she moves closer to me. She rests her head gently against my arm, which I bring around her shoulders. "So are we staying here for the day?"

I nod. "Yeah. Maybe tomorrow, too. Just until I feel good enough to go back home. I'll tell Snow we were at Gale's or something."

Prim is silent for a moment, but I can tell something's bothering her. Finally, she asks, "Why are we staying here only long enough for you to get better? You know as soon as we go home that we're just going to get hurt again."

"You know exactly why, Prim," I answer, annoyed that I have to keep explaining. "Do I need to find a mirror to show you your neck to remind you why? It's not like I want to go back, but an injury is preferable to death. You know what we're up against. Stop making me into the bad guy."

"I'm not! I know all that," she replies quickly. "But I think Snow is just trying to scare us. I don't think he'd stand up to Peeta or Mr. Mellark."

"Oh, and why not? Because they're good people? Give me a break."

"No," Prim continues, unperturbed. "Because Snow is a huge coward. He only beats up on us when no one is around. Look how he is when Gale comes over… he acts all nice until he leaves."

"So? Gale's different. Snow's known him and his family since he was a kid. He knows he won't do or say anything."

"I think he's more afraid that Gale will beat him up."

"That too," I agree.

"So you don't think he'd react the same way if Peeta and Mr. Mellark told him to stop?"

"Oh, he'll act nice to their faces and seem okay with everything. But he'll find a way to get even. He'll go to Coin and they'll both wind up paying for it. Or Snow will find us alone sometime when we least expect it and get rid of us. Or, worse yet, he'll find Peeta or Mr. Mellark alone and…" I give a frustrated sigh. "I really don't think Snow's going to be too intimidated by a middle-aged baker or a seventeen-year-old boy with a missing leg."

"Peeta's missing a leg?" Prim asks in surprise, promptly sitting up to look at me with alarmed eyes.

"Yeah, I thought you knew. That's why he walks with a limp sometimes."

"I noticed, but…" Prim frowns and looks thoughtful for a moment. "I didn't know all that. How did it happen?"

"It's a long story," I reply with a flip of my wrist. "There was an… accident when he was younger." I feel sick to my stomach saying 'accident' because it was anything but that. I doubt Peeta would want me to tell Prim the real story, though.

"But… why didn't he take his fake leg off last night?" Prim reflects curiously. "It couldn't have been very comfortable to sleep with."

I'm silent for a moment, uncertain of how to answer. I never thought about it until now, but she's right—he didn't take his prosthetic off at all last night. I'm suddenly both indignant and sorry for him. Did he think we would have judged him? Maybe he didn't want Prim to see or he didn't want to make us uncomfortable. He's wrong, though, if any of those were his reasons. I know that it can't possibly be the norm for him to sleep with it on, and maybe that's part of the reason why he stayed up all of last night.

I make a mental note to ask him about it when he comes home.

Before Peeta had left in the morning, he told me how to use the DVD player and the television with the remote. He smiled when he told me I'd probably want Prim to watch what's in the DVD player, and I have a pretty good guess of what's still in it.

When I turn it on and the sepia picture comes into view, I can't help the warmth that spreads throughout my body. I smile as Prim lies down at the end of the bed, head propped upon her hands. She seems utterly entranced by it. It's been years since we've ever really watched TV, and I know she's never seen The Wizard of Oz—at least not when she was old enough to remember it. I'd watched it with my dad when she was a toddler, but she never paid attention to it then.

I watch it about halfway through before my eyelids become too heavy to keep open. I tell Prim that I'm going to take a nap; she waves back at me to be quiet and turns back to the movie.

I'm standing on a small island in the middle of a lake.

Only the lake isn't full of water, but poisonous snakes—hissing, slithering, writhing, and striking. Millions upon millions of them, and they seem to multiply by the second. The depth is increasing; the hissing is becoming louder. I watch in horror and helplessness as the land around me gets smaller and smaller.

I turn around to see my mother, pale and decrepit, standing with me. An eerie, tight smile graces her face that doesn't quite meet her hollow eyes. I then look down to find two sets of chains locked onto my feet, leading in opposite directions. My eyes follow the line to where each ends—they both stretch a path over rickety wooden bridges to land on each side. The ends of the chains are wrapped liked nooses around the necks of Prim and Peeta who are also restrained and bound at the hands and feet by rope. I see them both yelling things at me, but I can't hear over the hissing of the snakes.

I know I have to make a decision to save one of them. Whoever I choose, the other one will die. The chain will pull on their neck and kill them. I have to make a decision quick, though, because I'm running out of time and room as the snakes move in closer and closer. I panic. I can't breathe. I turn to Mom for an answer; I ask her what I should do, but she only gives me a vacant smile and says, "We're all going to die here, Kitty-Kat."

And then I scream as the snakes close in on her feet. As if their bites are made of acid, her body melts into them, flesh falling like liquid from her bones, which eventually melt as well before she disappears completely.

I glance desperately at Prim and then to Peeta, then down at my feet; the snakes are mere inches away from me now. I have to save one or the other.

I have to save Prim.

I have no other choice.

"I'm sorry, Peeta! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" I yell repeatedly, tears streaming down my face as I make my way to my sister.

I look back to see him being yanked by the neck into the lake of snakes. "KATNISS!"

My eyes dart open to see Prim looking down at me in panic, her hands on my shoulders as if she had been shaking me. Once she notices that I'm awake, she immediately leans down and gives me a hug, making sure not get near my ribs. I bring a hand to her back to console her. I feel something wet on my face and wipe at it, and I'm surprised and confused when I find tears.

"You were having such a horrible nightmare! You were crying and screaming and thrashing about…." Prim mumbles into my neck.

"I'm okay now," I reply, but I'm still trembling all over and a little shell-shocked. I've had nightmares before, but never so bad that I'd woken up in tears. "Probably just a side-effect of the pain pill. It's all right. Sorry for worrying you. Go back to watching the movie."

"The movie's over," she whispers as she continues to hug me. Finally she pulls away from me and frowns. "I wish Snow would melt like the Wicked Witch of the West."

"Me too," I agree. "Maybe we should throw some water on him and see what happens."

"Probably not a good idea," Prim replies a little too seriously.

"Did you know me and Peeta were in a play for The Wizard of Oz?" I ask in an attempt to lighten the mood and distract both of us from the nightmare. Her eyes widen and she shakes her head. "Yep. In the third grade. I was Dorothy and he was the Cowardly Lion."

"Awww! I bet you guys were cute! I wish I could have seen it." Prim grins, her eyes narrowing in thought. "I think I remember you singing some of those songs, come to think of it. It was a long time ago, but I remember thinking you were wonderful. Why don't you ever sing anymore?"

"I don't have a reason to."

She looks at me as if I'm silly. "You don't need a reason to sing."

"I just think it's pointless," I answer and change the subject. "Hey, Prim? You see the paintings on the wall?"

"Yeah? They're really pretty. So?"

"Peeta painted them." I bite back a smile as her mouth drops open in disbelief. She looks around at them and decidedly shakes her head.

"They're too good. Are you sure...?"

I nod. "Yes, Prim. I wouldn't lie. He's really talented, isn't he? I couldn't believe it either when he told me. He painted a few of me, too…." I trail off as a huge grin comes to her face again. "What?"

"You totally don't love him, Katniss."

"Not this again," I roll my eyes. "I can think someone is talented and not be in love with them, you know."

"Yeah, but you should see your face when you talk about him."

"My face looks like a face, Prim! And it's half-bruised and swollen anyway, so it's bound to look a little different than usual."

"Whatever," Prim sighs and looks away with a knowing smile. "So where are the paintings of you? I want to see them."

"I don't know," I mutter, my face growing warm. "I'm not going to go looking through his things, either. You'll have to ask him when he gets back."

"Fine, I will."

"You seem to be feeling a lot better today," I observe. "Back to being the usual brat you were before."

She smiles and sticks her tongue out at me, and I return the gesture.

Prim and I occupy ourselves by watching cartoons until Peeta gets back that night. The day seems to drag on forever and with each hour that passes, I become more worried about him. What if something bad happened to him? What if Snow found out he helped us? He didn't get any sleep last night, either, so it's a possibility that he fell asleep at the wheel. All sorts of worst-case scenarios plague my mind, until I finally hear a knock on the storm door.

"Let me in, Katniss. It's Peeta."

As soon as he makes his way down the stairs and shuts the door behind him, I throw my arms around his neck and hug him tightly, not caring about the sharp twinge of pain it causes. He stands there frozen, either shocked by my unexpected display of affection in front of Prim or because both of his hands are full and he can't really hug me back. He might be cautious of hurting my ribs, too.

"I missed you," I murmur into his shoulder. "I was worried that…. Nevermind. I'm just glad you're back."

"I missed you, too. I'm all yours for the weekend though," he reassures, placing one of the bags down on the floor to rub my back. He kisses the top of my head before yawning, "But I might have to sleep first. It's been a long day."

I pull back and look at his face, noticing the dark circles beneath his eyes. As soon as I make eye-contact with him, he glances away and moves around me to the bed. There's a noticeable difference about him, but I chalk his avoidance up to being sleep deprived and let it go.

He opens a white paper bag and pulls out some cheeseburgers for us to eat, which we happily thank him for and waste no time devouring. Afterwards, he opens another bag and hands Prim a pretty pink nightgown. She thanks him profusely before hugging him and running to the bathroom to try it on.

"Well, that was sweet of you," I remark, smiling at him. "She loves it so much I'll probably have a hard time convincing her not to wear it during the day."

He shrugs sheepishly, "Well, my clothes kind of swallowed her. I um…" He looks apologetically at me. "I was going to buy you one, too, but…."

"I'm fine, Peeta," I reassure. "You've done more than enough—"

"If you'd let me finish..." He kisses my cheek, bringing his arms lightly around my waist. "I was going to say that I sort of… enjoyed seeing you in my t-shirt. I'll still buy you a nightgown, though, if you'd prefer—"

I place a finger to his mouth. "It's okay. I like wearing your shirts. They smell like you. I mean, like the bakery. It's comforting."

"Good," he replies and kisses me quickly on the mouth. "I want you to be comfortable when you sleep."

I suddenly remember what Prim had mentioned earlier.

"Speaking of which, why didn't you take your prosthetic off last night?" He shrugs and avoids my eyes.

"I don't know. I guess I just didn't think…" he trails off and scratches his head. "I didn't want to make things weird or gross you out."

"Seriously? My face and ribs are swollen and bruised. I look like something that crawled out of a damned grave," I point out, somewhat defensive that he'd think I'd be so superficial. "You really think something like that is going to gross me out? Peeta…" I shake my head and hug him, then mutter against his neck, "If you don't take it off when you sleep tonight, I'm going home."

"Okay, I'll take it off tonight. If that's what you want," he says as he sits down on the bed and begins taking his shoes off.

"It is," I reply as I sit down beside him. "So how was your day?"

"What do you mean?" he replies a little too casually, and I notice that there's a slight shakiness in his tone. Once again, he avoids my eyes. "It was a normal day. I missed having you around. All in all, it was pretty boring and uneventful."

I narrow my eyes at him, unsure of what to think of the way he's acting. Maybe he's just really tired, but I can't help being a little suspicious.

"Why are you acting so weird?" He turns to me with wide eyes, looking like a deer caught in headlights. My gut tightens and I can just tell by the guilty look on his face that something happened that I probably don't want to hear about. Still, I whisper with trepidation, "Peeta, did you do something I should know about?"

He shakes his head and turns back to taking off his shoes. "I'm just exhausted, Katniss. That's all."

I nod and let it go, although I'm not so sure I totally believe him.