Chapter Thirty-Three: Home

"You don't need another human being to make your life complete, but let's be honest. Having your wounds kissed by someone who doesn't see them as disasters in your soul but cracks to put their love into is the most calming thing in this world." —Emery Allen

I feel Prim staring a hole through me when I get off the phone with Peeta, but I can't bring myself to meet her eyes. For a brief moment I wonder what this whole ordeal is like for her and how it'll probably haunt her for the rest of her life. She's only eleven, wise and brave beyond her years—sure, but still only a child who almost saw her family murdered, was almost murdered herself, and witnessed—however much he deserved it—someone actually be murdered. I hope she knows that what I did, I did to protect her, to save us, and that I never wanted it to come to this.

I never wanted anyone's blood on my hands.

However, at the same time, I also contemplate going back to make sure Snow's really dead, maybe even pushing his body over the edge of the cliff just to be positive of it, and I realize that regardless of what I never wanted, I would do it all over again if I had to. Prim's life is worth a million times more than Snow's and I feel no remorse for shooting him; only anger that I was forced to do it, regret that Prim had to witness it, and worry of what will happen when someone inevitably notices his disappearance.

Otherwise, the world will be a much better place for not having him in it.

"Peeta's on his way here?" Prim asks, and though her voice is hoarse, there's a sliver of hope evident in her tone. I nod but remain silent as we heft Mom, who is still softly humming the lullaby, onto our shoulders again. "And did I hear right, we're going to live with him? Not just stay a few days, but actually live with him? As in… never coming back here again?"

I nod once more, keeping my eyes locked straight ahead. The closer we get to the trailer, the further away it seems. "In his basement? What about his parents? Did he tell them?"

I shake my head and mumble, "No. He has an apartment now."

"Really? Since when?"

"Since a few days ago. When we broke up."

"And he said we could come live with him?"

"Yeah."

"But what will—"

"Shhh!"

I know she has a lot of questions weighing on her mind, most of which I probably have myself, but I can't concentrate on answering them right now. My mind is going in a million different directions and I don't know what I'm doing or what's going to happen. I'm running on auto-pilot, doing things in a sort of daze; nothing seems real at the moment, but the pain pulsing throughout my body reminds me that this isn't a dream. I don't have time to dwell on what I've done or what would have happened if I hadn't done anything, though. If I stop to let everything sink in I'll completely break down, and right now my only concern needs to be getting us to safety. I have no other alternative but to stay strong at the moment.

Prim remains quiet for a few minutes before asking, "Is Mom coming with us, too?"

"No, I'm just going to leave her here to die!" I snap, but I immediately feel horrible about it. After all, if it hadn't been for Prim intervening—however stupid and reckless it was of her—there's no doubt in my mind that Mom and I would be dead right now. I clear my throat and mutter in a softer tone, "Yes, of course she's coming with us. Just… please stop talking and help me get her to the house. Peeta will be here any minute and we need to get our things together as quickly as possible. I don't want to step foot on this property ever again if I can help it."

"Me neither," Prim whispers her agreement before falling silent again. However, when the front door of the trailer is no more than twenty feet away, she heaves a sigh and states strongly, "Just so you know, you did the right thing, Katniss. We'd all be dead if you hadn't shot him."

"No, only Mom and I'd be dead. You'd only be dead because you were stupid enough to confront a psycho holding a gun!" I counter sharply, unable to stop the quiver in my voice or tears from forming at the thought of how things could have gone horrifically different. What she did was both bold and foolish; a part of me is grateful for her fortitude in creating a diversion for me to shoot Snow, but another part is furious at the thought of how easily he could have killed her. "What the hell were you thinking anyway? I told you to stay hidden! You're really lucky he had piss-poor aim, Prim!"

"No, we're lucky that you didn't," she replies, shrugging unapologetically. "If you really thought I'd just run away scared and let him kill you both then you don't know me very well at all! Besides, he would've eventually found and killed me, too. You know he would've."

I shake my head and look away without a word as we continue to walk; I know she's speaking the truth, no matter how much I'd like to deny it. If Snow had killed me and Mom, he would have surely tracked Prim down and silenced her as well.

There's a sudden gust of wind, and it's only then that I finally take notice of how my body is trembling uncontrollably. I glance down at my hand and try to keep it still, but I find that it's impossible. Closing my eyes tightly, I take a deep breath in a feeble attempt to calm myself… but it does no good. In fact, it only makes it worse; my lips start to spasm as I fight back a sob.

"I don't want to talk about this right now. Let's just focus on getting the hell out of here. And don't you dare say anything to Peeta about what happened! Promise me you won't," I demand sternly.

"But he's going to wonder why—" she begins to argue, but I cut her off before she can finish. "Prim, I mean it! Not a word about it to him. Promise me now!"

"Fine. I promise," she relents. "But I really think you should tell him. He should know."

We finally reach the front door of the trailer, and not a moment too soon; when I turn the knob to enter, a bolt of lightning streaks across the sky and a clap of thunder follows quickly after.

What a perfectly ominous ending to a night of terror.

I quickly open the door and turn to Prim once we're inside. "Look, I'll tell Peeta eventually. When I'm ready. Right now we need a safe place to stay, and I don't know if he'll be too thrilled about harboring a murderer and her family," I explain as I make my way over to the kitchen counter and light a lantern.

"You're not a murderer! You saved us from being murdered!" she retorts. "Peeta loves you and he'll understand why you did what you did. He'll help you."

"It doesn't matter why I did it, I'm still a murderer!

That's not something you casually tell someone. Peeta is being generous enough to let us come live with him. He has no idea what he's getting himself into with Mom's condition and I'm sure that will be a shock enough as it is. Bottom line, it's my place to tell him - not yours. Got it?"

She purses her lips, looking haunted and indignant, but reluctantly nods.

Before she has a chance to ask any more questions or disagree with me again, I head to our bedroom with the lantern and gesture for her to follow me.

Mom stays seated on the floor in the living room, humming and seemingly unaware of anything going on around her. After what happened tonight, though, I know the person she used to be is still in there somewhere, buried deep down, and I plan on finding her again. With Snow out of the picture, and for the first time in years, I have a mustard seed of hope that maybe there's a chance she might get better.

I look at the dirty, uncomfortable cots that Prim and I have had to sleep on for years, tattered around the edges and ripped in spots where the fabric has become worn thin, and it still doesn't seem real that we're leaving this place once and for all. I never thought I'd get away from here alive. One thing is for sure, though; I'll never come back here alive, at least not by choice and without a fight. In fact, I'd burn this place to the ground in a minute if I knew it wouldn't attract attention.

"Only take the things that are important to you. Peeta doesn't need a bunch of our junk in his house," I say, handing Prim an old trash bag to put her things in.

"All we have is junk," she replies dryly. "Besides the stuff he's given us."

"You know what I mean. Take only the junk that has sentimental value and make it fast. I need to get some things from Mom's room, too."

Without another word in reply, she immediately begins placing her belongings in the bag as I peel back the thin faux wood paneling from the walls. I'm surprised at how much lies behind them. Ever since I was young and we first moved here, I've been hiding things for safe keeping, and I've evidently forgotten about a lot of it over time.

I rummage through everything as quickly as I can, finding that most of it is just trash—wrappers from food and empty bottles that I didn't want Snow to find and punish us for. The dim glow of the lantern makes it hard to see very well, and I squint in disbelief upon noticing a vaguely familiar bundle of brown fabric balled up in a corner. When I realize it's exactly what I think it is, my eyes begin to fill with tears.

My father's jacket! I'd hidden it when Snow began selling and getting rid of all his things, and I haven't seen it since I was thirteen. I fling it a couple of times to get as much dust off as I can and promptly put it on. It might be a little dirty, and it's more than a couple sizes too big, but I don't care. It feels like a warm, comforting hug from my father, and I need it now more than ever.

I grow confused upon noticing a few things I don't remember ever seeing in my life, let alone placing behind the wall. I pick up a small dark-green book which is tattered around the edges, and realize it's a journal of some sort. It's definitely not mine as I've never owned one in my life. I fleetingly wonder if it was hidden there by someone who owned this trailer before we did and so I curiously flip through the pages, but my confusion only grows when I catch a glimpse of my name. I know the book isn't mine and it's not Prim's… so there's only one other person it could belong to. I don't have time to read any of it, though, so I place it in a bag to look at later when I have a chance.

An unfamiliar wooden box, which was underneath the journal, catches my eye next. It's heavy and from the shifting of weight and the rattling inside when I move it in my hands, there are evidently some things inside of it. However, Peeta will be here soon and I don't have time to look, not that I could really see much of anything anyways with the dim light, so I place it into the bag as well. Mom must have known about my hiding place and decided she wanted to keep some things hidden as well.

It's a bit eerie in the darkness of the trailer as the lightning and thunder become more prominent and Mom's breathy hums get louder from the living room. Prim and I both give a startled jump when it starts to downpour all of a sudden. I almost expect Snow to barge in the front door, like some horrific scene from a scary movie in which the monster comes back with a vengeance. The wind howls and whistles with intensity, sounding like high pitched wails of a banshee warning of impending doom, and my heart is pounding against my chest with as much force as the raindrops hitting the tin roof.

My fears almost seem confirmed when I hear a loud, persistent knock on the front door.

"Do you think that's Peeta already?" asks Prim, her voice small and wary. I shrug in reply, temporarily unable to find my voice.

Standing up on nervous, wobbly legs, I dare myself to make my way into the living room. My trepidation grows with every step I get closer. It's probably just Peeta; that would make logical sense. However, if it is him, he made it here awfully quick… and I wouldn't put it past Snow to trick me like this. Still, I have no other choice but to make my way to the door, Prim following closely behind me, hoping that I won't be greeted by a bullet.

I close my eyes, hold my breath, and open the door quickly as if I'm ripping off a band-aid.

"Peeta!" I hear Prim exclaim in relief. "Thank god it's only you!"

I instantly release the breath I'd been holding and open my eyes to see Peeta standing on the doorstep being completely drenched by the rain. There's a deep frown on his face and he seems troubled; I can tell without him uttering a word that he knows something bad happened tonight and has a lot of questions that I don't want to answer.

"Can I come in?" he asks with a small half-smile that doesn't quite meet his eyes.

Though I'm a bit embarrassed and reluctant about letting Peeta see the squalor I've lived in all these years, I step back and allow him to enter. I was afraid of him judging me before, perhaps even breaking up with me if he knew how truly poor I was, but most of the reason why I didn't want him to drive me all the way home and see where I live had to do with Snow.

Once inside, without a word or warning, he immediately envelops me in his arms, pulling me to him in a tight embrace. He's soaking wet, but warmth radiates from his body. It feels unbelievably comforting to be held by him, especially considering less than an hour ago I thought I'd never feel this again. For the first time tonight, and for the first time ever in this trailer, I feel protected… safe. I bury my face into his chest, finally allowing a few tears to soak into the dampness of his shirt as he rests his cheek on top of my head.

"You're shaking like crazy. What happened?" he whispers in concern.

"I… I'll tell you later. Right now we really just need to get out of here," I answer dismissively. Gathering my composure, I pull back from him and wipe at my cheeks. Now isn't the time or place for hugs or explanations—there will be plenty of time for that later.

I glance at Prim, who is standing back and silently observing our interaction. I arch an eyebrow at her as a reminder of her promise; she nods once, rolls her eyes, and looks away from me as she crosses her arms over her chest.

I turn my focus back to Peeta and notice him gazing around the room, taking in his surroundings for the first time. I can see by the look on his face that it's difficult for him to stomach. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it again when he notices my mother sitting on the floor, staring up at him in silence and smiling widely as if she recognizes him.

He closes his eyes, swallows hard, and gives a slight shake of his head. I feel a bit defensive, despite knowing her appearance is a ghastly thing to accept—even for me, after all these years. I can only imagine what Peeta must be thinking, and I hope he's not having second thoughts about us coming to live with him.

"Peeta, this is my mother," I say monotonously, gesturing sweepingly at her with one hand.

"I guessed that much," Peeta acknowledges with sympathy and sorrow evident in his voice. He takes a deep breath and forces a smile as he looks at her again. "Nice to meet you… Mrs…?"

He glances questioningly at me, but I shift my gaze to the floor, suddenly unable meet his eyes.

Technically, due to marriage, my mom has Snow's last name—Coin, like his adoptive father. But I'm not going to have anyone referring to her as such if I can help it; she can't defend herself and doesn't deserve to be associated with such evil. I bite my lip and shrug nervously, feeling exposed and self-conscious… surprisingly even more so than I did earlier today when I was actually naked in front of him.

"Iris. Her name is Iris, but it doesn't matter. She won't answer you back," I whisper and then promptly change the subject. "I just need to get a few more things. Do you have everything you want to take with you, Prim?"

"Yeah, I think so," she nods, lifting up the half full bag which looks to be mostly just clothes, before turning to Peeta. "Mind if I go wait in your car? I don't want to stay in this place any longer than I've had to. I'm sure you can understand why."

"Go ahead. The doors are already unlocked."

"Sit in the front," I say as she makes her way to the door. "I'll have to stay in the back with Mom." Prim gives a half-hearted thumbs-up before making her way to the car. Mom hasn't been in a vehicle for years and I'm unsure of how she'll react to it. Peeta said his apartment is in the next town over, and that's quite a distance to go. I'm not taking a chance of her causing anything bad to happen along the way.

"Can she walk on her own?" Peeta inquires, nodding towards Mom.

"Yeah, but not for long," I reply. "She'll need some help."

"Want me to go ahead and carry her out to the car?"

"Are you sure you can carry her all on your own?" I ask, though I know from seeing him lift the flour sacks in the bakery that he could easily carry triple her weight with no problem. Still, I feel as if I should contribute in some way—he's doing enough as it is.

"I can help if you need me to."

"With your ribs the way they are?" He arches an eyebrow disapprovingly and shakes his head. He steps closer and places his hands on my shoulders, giving each one a gentle squeeze of reassurance as he leans down and plants a tender, lingering kiss on my forehead and then on my lips. With a softhearted chuckle, he leans his forehead against mine and murmurs against my mouth, "I got it, Katniss. It doesn't look like she weighs much of anything at all."

He immediately leans back, his eyes widening as he realizes I could take insult by what he'd said. "I'm sorry, she's just… I didn't mean—"

I bring my lips to his once more in order to silence his apology, and also because I came so close to never being able to do so again. Now that I have a second chance at life, and my freedom may be limited when people find out what I've done, I want to share as many kisses with him as I can, while I can, and then some.

"I know," I whisper as we separate again. "Can you stay out there with them? I'd feel better if you did, to keep them safe. I'll be out in a few minutes..."

"No problem at all," he replies before turning his attention towards my mother. He leans down on one knee, and my breath catches in my chest as I silently observe him reach out with his hand and soothingly caress her face. He tells her in a gentle, friendly voice, "I know you don't have a clue who I am, but my name is Peeta Mellark—"

"Mellark," repeats Mom, gazing adoringly at him with wide, hollow eyes. "Avory?"

"That's right," he smiles softly, smoothing a few flyaway hairs behind her ear. "I'm Avory's son."

"Avory," she whispers again and shakes her head, her face suddenly contorting into a mask of desolation. "Sorry Avory. Everything's wrong. All wrong."

Peeta glances back at me in question and I answer with a shrug; Mom's never done or said these things about Peeta's dad before. He takes a deep breath and turns to her once more. "It'll be right again, I promise. I'll make it right. Mrs… Iris… things will be better now, and you'll get better. You'll be safe and happy and you'll never be hungry, and… maybe my dad can even come see you again and you can make cookies and cakes like when you were kids…? Wouldn't that be nice?"

My eyes widen at this declaration and a whole new wave of anxiety washes over me. I never thought about Peeta's dad finding out about all of this. What will he think, what will he do? Once he sees how deteriorated she's gotten in body and mind, I'm afraid he'll want to seek professional help for her and see Snow punished by law for what he's done—and if he does, Prim and I will likely be sent to state foster care. Coin will also undoubtedly be alerted of this new development, which will lead to him noticing Snow's disappearance.

I take a deep breath and try to push these worries to the back of my mind. Peeta and I obviously have a lot still left to discuss. I don't see any way of avoiding Mr. Mellark finding out about things, though. Maybe I can reason with him, maybe I can get him to see that she can get better with the help of family and friends more than with strangers in some psych ward.

Mom brings her bony, fragile hand to Peeta's cheek and smiles as if she understands. However, all she whispers in reply is, "Avory."

He nods and places his hand over hers. "I'm going to pick you up now, okay? I'm going to bring you to my car and we're all going to go home. You'll never have to come back here again. You'll never be hurt again and you'll never see your daughters hurt either."

Going home. It echoes in my head. Going home with Peeta. We're going to a home with water, food, electricity, warmth, comfort, hope, happiness, and a new beginning.

We're going home.

After retrieving a few more things from the trailer, such as Mom's disposable diapers (which I'd taken the liberty to buy with my last paycheck), clothes, and other essentials, I finally make my way to Peeta's car. Once I'm in the backseat, I pull Mom into my arms and kiss the top of her head.

"Home," she whispers so lightly I barely hear it.

"Yes," I whisper in return, closing my eyes as Peeta backs up and out of the driveway. I don't want to see the place one last time; I just want to erase it from my memory and forget this hell ever existed.

The ride to Peeta's apartment is quiet and tense. I can tell everyone in the car has a million questions and worries running through their head—except for Mom, who almost immediately falls asleep on my shoulder. Once we're past town and entering the next one over, I know we're getting close. I can't help feeling excited and relieved, and also a little nervous and scared.

I only hope Peeta doesn't come to regret this and that it will only bring us closer together instead of the opposite. I don't want him to feel obligated to stay with me and take on the burden of my family, but I have no other place to go now. I have no other alternatives. He really is my only hope at the moment, and I know he'd never hear of it or expect anything in return, but I truly am indebted to him for this.

"We're here," Peeta announces excitedly as he pulls into a paved driveway with a tall metal fence and gate. He types a code into a keypad and the gate opens on its own. As he drives through the entrance, my eyes widen at how beautiful the apartment complex is. I was expecting some plain brick building, but this one is well lit, painted white, with patios and balconies, sculpted trees and shrubbery. I suddenly feel like some sort of lowly beggar or freeloader by accepting his offer to come live with him.

If I felt like I owed him before, it's nothing compared to now.

"Wow, this place is beautiful Peeta! This is where you live?" Prim asks in awe.

"Sure is. And now it's where you live, too," he replies.

I want to say something, but I find myself at a loss for words.

He drives through yet another gate which leads to a brightly lit underground parking garage. Surveillance cameras hang in every corner and I have no doubt that we will be safe here. That feeling is only strengthened when we have to be buzzed into the building by a security guard. No one asks about my Mom and why he's carrying her, but Peeta tells them that she's his aunt and that her wheelchair was broken.

When we finally walk into Peeta's apartment, I just stand there for a moment with my mouth hanging open in shock. Peeta places my mom down on a fluffy, dark green sofa that looks so comfortable I'd probably fall asleep as soon as I sat down on it. Prim stands still and gazes around the room with wide eyes, obviously as surprised and speechless as I am.

The walls are cream colored, with white trim. The floors are all shiny wood, which looks to be brand new. Double doors of stained glass lead off from the living room into what looks like a study full of shelves. There are so many little details about the place that my mind can't quite process all of it.

How in the world can Peeta afford this place? Surely it must cost a fortune. To see this place and know that he just witnessed where we've been living, I'm ashamed and a little mortified. I feel as if living here and ever calling this place my home will make me seem like trailer trash pretending to be a princess.

"Do you like it?" Peeta murmurs hopefully near my ear, bringing an arm around my waist and kissing me softly on the cheek.

I nod slowly and turn to him, "I love it, but… how in the world can you afford this place?"

He grins and shakes his head as he twines his fingers with mine. "I can more than afford it, Katniss, and keeping you safe is priceless to me."

I sigh and arch an eyebrow skeptically at him, "No. Really. How will you afford this? I'll definitely be helping you with rent—" I don't get to finish before he cuts me off with a kiss. I close my eyes and begin to lose myself in the feeling of his mouth moving against mine, but we're abruptly interrupted when Prim clears her throat loudly.

"I guess you two are sharing a room," she remarks with a knowing snort. "Where am I going to sleep?"

"In the bathroom, of course. The tub is nice and cozy," Peeta answers with a straight face, but I know he's only joking. I bite the insides of my cheeks to keep from laughing at the shocked look on Prim's face. She narrows her eyes at him for a moment, searching to see if he's serious or not, and when he doesn't reply she squares her shoulders and nods in acceptance.

He laughs at this and reassures her, "I was only kidding, Prim. There's a room at the end of the hall and it has a full size bed that you and your Mom can share. Or you can sleep on the couch. It folds out into a bed, too." He winks and chuckles again, "Or you can sleep in the bathtub. It's totally up to you."

"If I sleep on the couch tonight can I watch TV until I fall asleep?" she asks him, raising her eyebrows and crossing her arms as if she's negotiating.

Peeta shrugs and holds his hands up, "That's entirely up to Katniss. I only provide the furnishings, not the rules."

"I don't care, Prim. It's the weekend," I answer nonchalantly. Honestly, with as much hell as we've lived through until now, I'm all for Prim experiencing little perks like these now that she can. "Try to get some rest, though. It's been a long night."

She catches my eye and gives me a sorrowful look, and before I even have time to say anything or react, she runs over and wraps her arms around my waist. I return her hug, feeling a bit dumbfounded by her sudden affection.

"I love you," she says, squeezing me tighter with a bear hug. "I'm so glad I have you for a sister."

"I love you too and you know I feel the same way," I reply and kiss the top of her head. "Now go watch TV with Mom. I think I'm going to find a shower, myself. Sleeping in a bathtub doesn't sound too bad to me at the moment."

Which is true; I fell in the mud quite a few times when I was out in the woods with Snow, and I feel disgustingly dirty standing in Peeta's pristine apartment.

Peeta winks at me before going to the TV and turning the channel to a children's show with plenty of laugh tracks. As the room comes to life with background noise, it adds to the comfort and warmth of the place.

I already feel a million miles away from where I'd been.

Prim makes her way to the couch and sits next to Mom, who already appears to be asleep, and is immediately entranced by whatever show it is that she's watching. Peeta comes back over to me, grabs my hand, and without a word, begins leading me down the hallway and into what is obviously his room. His paintings hang on the walls and a few boxes are scattered around.

"Sorry, I haven't quite unpacked everything yet," he says with a shrug and sits down on the corner of his bed. "Katniss, I'll be honest… I can't believe you're actually here. It feels like I'm in a dream."

"I hope it's not a nightmare," I joke a bit nervously as I fidget with the hem of my shirt. It's strange to be standing here in Peeta's room—our room?—after what happened between us in his car today. It feels overwhelmingly intimate. I know he expects nothing of me, but with all he's done for me and my family, I'm willing to give him everything and anything he wants from me.

That realization is a bit scary.

"Never. Quite the opposite, in fact," Peeta says with a sweet smile and holds his arms out for me. I walk to him without hesitation, entwining my fingers with his before leaning down and capturing his lips in a slow kiss. He runs his tongue over my bottom lip and in turn, I envelop it gently with my mouth, enjoying the taste and feel of his tongue gliding rhythmically and reverently against mine. He takes his hands from my grasp and moves them around to my back, bringing me to sit down onto his lap. I do so without even breaking our kiss, and run my hand delightfully through the wet curls at the base of his neck. When we part, he grazes his knuckles lightly against my cheekbone, then takes me by surprise when he whispers in concern, "What happened tonight?"

"I called you and now I'm here," I answer quickly, avoiding his eyes.

"You know what I mean. I know something happened… something bad. I could tell by the sound of your voice on the phone and by the look on your face when I arrived," he replies and seems hesitant about saying something else.

Finally, he sighs and blurts in a rush, "I was at the bakery with Dad when you called, though he doesn't know why I left or that I came to get you guys. He was telling me how he came to your house earlier and talked to the monster. Said he avoided answering all Dad's questions and seemed really paranoid and defensive, wouldn't let him see your mom… and now I know why…." He closes his eyes and shakes his head. "God, I'm so sorry Katniss. I know you said she was in bad shape, but I had no idea…."

"Seeing's believing, I guess," I mutter as I rest my head into the crook of his neck. "What do you think your dad will do when he sees her?"

Peeta swallows hard and shrugs his shoulders, "I don't know. Probably cry."

"He can't take her to the hospital or call the police," I state strongly. "It'll only make things worse for us. She shows signs of getting better lately, and I think she'll continue to improve now that we're away from Snow. She'll become stronger and healthier with time, I know she will."

"I was thinking maybe my cousin Madge can help? She went to school to be a nurse," he offers quietly. I pull back and look at him skeptically, uncertain of what to say or do in reply to his offer. I don't know this cousin of his, never even spoke with her yet, and I'm not sure at all about her 'helping' with my Mom. However, it's not like I can take her to an actual hospital, and it might do some good to have someone who knows what she's doing to look after her.

"I'll have to meet her first," I say. "I have to know I can trust her."

"Oh, I think you'll like Madge... and all the embarrassing little stories she's sure tell you about me as a kid. She knows about you, too. Not now, but when I was younger. I was… um…quite smitten with you back then, you know." He kisses my temple and leans his head onto mine. "Not much has changed. Anyway… back to my original question. What happened tonight? Please tell me, Katniss?"

"I… I'm not sure what you want me to say, Peeta. I decided I wanted to come live with you... and that's all. I was afraid Snow would come back when you were there and that's why I looked so scared," I answer, but I can't seem to meet his eyes and my voice comes out unevenly.

"I don't believe you," Peeta states with a disheartened sigh. "But if you don't want to tell me, I'm not going to force you. Just know you can tell me anything, okay? I'm here for you, no matter what. I love you."

I nod, feeling my stomach twist in a million knots as I stand up again. "Mind if I take a shower?"

"Sure. You can use the bathroom in my room or the one down the hall on the left. Whichever you're more comfortable with," Peeta replies, disappointment obvious in the tone of his voice. He walks over to his dresser, pulls out a white shirt, and hands it to me. "Here's something clean for you to sleep in. Towels and wash cloths are in the cabinets in both bathrooms. I'll go ahead and get some blankets and pillows for your mom and Prim. Are you sleeping with me tonight?"

I nod again and make my way to his doorway.

For a moment I contemplate turning around and telling him everything that happened. Prim's right; he should know. A part of me is afraid of him treating me differently, though… of him thinking I'm just as bad as Snow for killing someone. He thought I was being mean for hooking a worm… what will he think of me for shooting a man? I'd like to think he'd understand and support me, but I also don't want to be too idealistic about the situation.

Instead, I mutter a quick "thank you" and choose to use the bathroom down the hallway.

Once I strip my clothes, I position myself directly beneath the showerhead and turn the knob until the water is as hot as I can stand it. I bite my lip and clench my fists as the scalding water stings my skin and rolls down the length of my body. The burn feels great; it reminds me that I'm alive. With the steaming water streaming over all my scrapes, cuts, bruises, and scars, it feels as if I'm being reborn, as if all the horrors and sins of my old life are being scorched and purged from my flesh. Whatever happens after tonight, I know for sure that nothing will ever be the same as before—I'll never be the same.

I may have killed a killer, but I also killed a part of myself. I murdered whatever innocence I had when I pulled the trigger, felt it leave my body when I heard him hit the ground.

As I replay in my mind what happened tonight and what has happened throughout the years, I finally let the tears pour from my eyes… and once they start, I'm unable to stop them. I lean forward onto the shower wall, bracing myself as sobs rack my body.

Eventually I become so weak that I simply sit down in the tub, pulling my scraped and bruised knees up to my aching chest, and continue to cry as the water hits my back.

I stay that way until the water runs icy, and by then I know exactly what I need to do.