We're silent for a long time after Peeta's outburst. I can tell by the look on his face that he's angry and contemplating what was said. I've already had this conversation with two therapists. I let go of any anger or blame I placed on Peeta for that night... but the voicemail is a different story. The voicemail pisses me off. Still to this day.

I never confessed my feelings for Peeta, so how would he possibly know that he struck multiple chords when he said those appalling words? There are a lot of things that I never said to Peeta. Things I should have said to Peeta.

The voicemail to me was the end of our friendship. Peeta didn't feel the same was as I did, and it hurt me beyond what I thought possible. I thought it would be easier to leave things alone. I didn't answer his calls. I didn't need his explanation. I needed to get over Peeta Mellark.

I did this by throwing myself into my studies, knowing that I needed to be the very best of the FBI was going to accept me. I graduated at the top of my class. I exercised regularly and turned my slim body into a fit one. I even joined a shooting sports club. I specialized in archery and shot guns.

Peeta was never far from my mind though. I dreamed of blonde curls and blue eyes. Someone would make a joke, and I'd look around the room to see if Peeta was laughing too. I dated a few times, but it was nothing serious. Bar hook ups never had many follow up dates. No one ever compared to the boy next door.

And now that I sit beside him, I realize that there was never anyone else. There would never be anyone else. I was still in love with Peeta ten years later. Now, I just need to find a way to tell him. My heart rate quickens at the thought. The palms of my hands get sweaty, and I have to rub them on my jean-covered thighs.

Before I can say anything though, Peeta beats me to it. He tells me in a small voice, "I think about that night a lot too. If you would have said yes to prom with me or a movie marathon with Madge. I was there. I saw the way you two were dancing, and I saw the look in Cato's eyes. I just never though he would act on it.

"I think about what would have happened if I would have answered my phone. I'd drive to Cato's, kick in the door, and punch the shit out of him. I had wanted to do it for years, and that would have been the perfect excuse. I would have taken you home and slept on the couch to make sure you were okay," he says. Then he meets my eyes. "Katniss, I can't tell you how sorry I am."

"I wasn't your responsibility," I tell him. I was old enough and strong enough to hold my own.

"You were my best friend in the entire world."

The walls that I built up over the last ten years threatens to crumble. "It's not your fault."

Peeta looks like he wants to say something but decides against it. He shakes his head and fumbles with his long fingers.

When he says nothing, I call out to him softy. "Peeta, its in the past. I wouldn't be where I am today if it wasn't for what happened. I don't hate or blame you. I'm sorry that you thought that."

"When will the FBI be here?"

His question shocks me. Maybe he wants to get out of here and go back to never seeing me again. "I submitted the back up request this morning along with my profile and person of interest. My supervisor will read it and send a team. Its a two hour drive from Quantico... so I'm not sure. Haymitch will wonder where we are eventually."

Peeta looks worried. "Okay," he replies.

I feel the need to keep him talking. "So other than graduating from the university and running the bakery, what have you been up to?"

Peeta studies my face, trying to understand the sudden change of topic. "That about sums it up."

I narrow my eyes at him playfully. "No girlfriends?"

"I live with my dad in my childhood home," he laughs.

"Well surely you make enough money to move out if you want to..."

"I don't want to," Peeta admits in a voice that tells me he is unashamed. "Actually, I bought the house from him a few years ago. I let him live there. He wants to retire and move somewhere warm... But after he learns that I've been abducted, I doubt he's going to go anywhere." Mr. Mellark was one of the nicest, kind hearted men I have ever met. He was only ever nice to me. His only flaw was being too timid and letting his sadistic wife beat on their children.

"Well," I tell him. "That beats my boring apartment story. I do have a cat though, Buttercup."

"Who's taking care of Buttercup now?"

I laugh at his interest in my pet. Peeta loves animals. "My neighbor's kid. I pay him."

"So you're not worried about your line of work?" Peeta asks. "You've been captured twice in like a year."

"Its come with the job," I shrug. "I knew what I was signing up for. Some agents never have this problem. Maybe I'm just unlucky."

Peeta laughs at my joke despite knowing that I am naturally unlucky person. He asks, "So what happens after you become a real agent."

"I'll get stationed somewhere. Hopefully, I will still be allowed to work in special crimes. I'll get assigned to a team, and that's it really."

"That's what you want?" He asks me.

I nod. "Yes."

"Sounds like a hazardous job," he states and crosses his arms over his chest. "What will your boyfriend think about that?"

I can't help the eyebrow that raises itself automatically. I also can't help the beat that my heart skips. Why does he want to know? I tell him, "There's no boyfriend."

"Really?" He questions with a certain amount of interest that makes me wonder why he's asking... or maybe it's just my imagination. Peeta was always so personable and able to make people feel things with his words. "A girl like you? I figured you'd have all the men falling at your feet."

My heart screams at me to tell him that I've been waiting for one in particular person, but my brain tells me that's creepy. I decide to listen to the latter. "No one has been worthy."

Peeta cackles. Its the kind of laugh that makes him throw his head back like a child. The sound is music to my ears. "I don't doubt that."

~Age Eighteen~

I spend hours in the sheriffs office. I'm there so long that they give my mother and I donuts and water. When they're finally done with me, they let Haymitch in to see me. He's not dressed in his deputy uniform, and his hair is a mess. It looks like he's just rolled out of bed. His eyes are frantic until they find me. "Sweetheart," he says as he pulls me into a tight hug. "What happened?"

I'm all cried out at this point and purely exhausted. I manage to mumble out that I don't want to talk about the incident anymore. Haymitch understands right away. The Sheriff calls him outside the room, and they talk in hushed tones. My mother goes out to meet them, leaving me alone for the first time since Madge opened her front door.

Madge... I should text her and let her know that everything is okay. It's only then that I realize I don't have my cell phone. I retrace my steps and realize that it is either at Madge's or in evidence here at the sheriff's office. I was told that that's where my bag and prom dress were. I don't ever want to see that dress again.

My mother and Haymitch return looking older than they were seconds ago. I'm told that we're going to the hospital to get checked out again. There, they will conduct a psychiatric evaluation to decide how traumatized I am. I try to resist, but both adults glares shut me up.

I spend the rest of the day in the hospital. Lunch and dinner are served by the hospital cafeteria. I hate it. The doctors determine that I am fine physically. Nothing is broken. My bruises and cuts will heal. Mentally, I'm still shaken and in shock. The psychologist tells my mother that it may be best for me to see a therapist. With the doctor's help, my mother is able to make an appointment immediately. Bright and early Monday morning.

It's been hours since I've slept. I can barely keep my eyes open when Haymitch drops us off at my mother's car outside the Undersee's house. Madge manages to see us and rushes out the door with my cell phone in her hand.

She runs to me and comes to a screeching stop when she sees me cringe at the idea of physical touch. "Can I hug you?" She asks in a voice you would use on a wounded animal. I immediately hate the empathy, but I love Madge dearly. So, I nod.

She squeezes me tightly. "I was worried. Here," she says handing me my phone. "You left this here."

"Thank you," I manage to say. If I had any tears left, they'd be falling at the generosity of my friend.

"Peeta's called you and me numerous times," she tells me. "I didn't tell him anything. It wasn't my place."

I nod at her, thankful that she didn't recount my story to anyone. "I won't be at school tomorrow..."

"I didn't think so," she says. "Check in with me though. Call if you need anything."

It's me who initiates the hug this time. I have never been so thankful for Madge Undersee. She watches as I climb into my mother's car and only turns away once my car is out of her line of sight.

On the car ride home, I check my messages.

11:45 PM- Cato: I'll kill you when I find you.

11:55 PM- Missed call from Cato.

12:05 AM- Cato: You fucking bitch.

12:06 AM- Missed call from Cato. Voicemail.

12:07 PM- Missed call from Cato. Voicemail.

12:08 AM- Missed call from Peeta.

12:08 AM- Peeta: Just saw your calls. Everything okay?

12:10 AM- Missed call from Cato.

12:11 AM- Missed call from Cato. Voicemail.

12:12 AM- Missed call from Cato.

12:15 AM- Peeta: Finnick's got busted. Taking Delly home. See you there?

12:31 AM- Missed call from Peeta. Voicemail.

12:31 AM- Peeta: You still up?

1:30 AM- Madge: Just checking in. How are you doing?

8:05 AM- Madge: Silly me (: I just found your phone. Hope everything is okay!

11:30 AM- Peeta: Katniss? I'm sorry I didn't answer. Lunch on me?

12:30 PM- Missed call from Peeta.

12:30 PM- Peeta: I'm starting to worry. Are you home?

12:35 PM- Peeta: Can we talk like adults?

1:45 PM- Peeta: Seriously?

3:33 PM- Missed call from Peeta.

5:30 PM- Peeta: Talk to me Katniss. Don't be mad. I'm sorry.

It's 7:30 PM now, and I turn my phone off. I can't deal with Peeta right now. I have every right to be mad. He didn't answer his phone. He ignored our emergency code.

He was with Delly and not with me. Were they having sex when I tried to call him? Isn't that what usually happens on prom night? My head spins with a thousand scenarios. For the first time, I feel my heart break into a thousand pieces. Jealousy and heartbreak makes me want to cry. I wish I could cry.

I shower in my mother's bathroom, put on fresh pajamas, and crawl into her bed. I don't want to be alone tonight.

Hours pass by. Peeta and I switch back and forth between talking and sitting in silence. It feels good to catch up, even if the conversations stay on the positive side. I've missed him.

We don't realize just how much time has passed until someone opens a slot on the heavy metal door close to the ground. It's Snow's butler, I can tell by the white gloves he is wearing. He places a tray of food through the slot, and my stomach growls at the sight of it. The slot slams shut, and the butler is gone.

Peeta and I remain seated for several seconds, staring at the food. Salads with white dressing, fried chicken breasts the size of my face, orange slices, green grapes, two paper plates, a plastic tumbler of water, and two plastic cups. This is dinner. Possibly our final meal.

"Could it be poisoned?" Peeta asks.

My words die on my lips when the metal door opens entirely. "Mr. Mellark," Snow says as he steps into the room. "Do you think so little of me?"

"Kind of," Peeta replies. "You're holding us hostage."

"Ah," Snow says with a chuckle. "That is very true, but I won't lie to you. I am here personally to show you that the food is not poisoned. Only the best for my law enforcement friends." Snow reaches down and takes a sip of the water straight from the tumbler. I cringe. Then, he takes a leaf from the side of the salad, dips it in the white dress, and eats it. My stomach aches to be filled. He eats an orange slice and grape at an antagonizing slow pace. Finally, he picks at the breading on the chicken breast and eats it as well. When he's done, he says, "See, not poisoned."

Neither Peeta or I move. "Very well," Snow says with a shrug and exits the room. Just as he leaves, I see my gun peaking out the pocket of his black suit.

So, I was right. Armed and has an accomplice.

When the door is firmly shut, Peeta and I lunge for the food.