Last Time in Damaged, Broken, and Unhinged:

"Why? It's true," Prim snaps, dashing my hopes even more. "I'm never gonna fall in love. I'm never gonna get married. If this is what love does to you, I don't want any part of it."

"You're just seeing the bad side. There's good too." Our parents' love was beautiful, like those stories they used to tell us in kindergarten. Yes, now that Dad's gone, Mom is a broken shell. But they had twenty years together. Twenty years I know neither of them would ever give up. They were happy together. Deliriously happy, despite everything. If Prim can't see that… well, I'm not sure how to explain it to her.

"Nothing is good enough to justify this." She shakes her head at our mother, who's ignored our entire conversation. "Love just leads to pain. To suffering. And I don't want any part of it." Prim's flinty eyes meet mine. "And nothing you can say will make me change my mind."

I feel my heart break a bit in that moment. My baby sister is gone. In her place stands this broken bird, and I don't know what I can do to fix it.

oOo

Damaged, Broken, and Unhinged
by RoseFyre & FanficAllergy

oOo

Chapter Six: Better Off Buyin' Chickens

oOo

"If you know somethin' well you can always paint it, but people would be better off buyin' chickens."
― Grandma Moses

oOo

When the weather finally clears enough for us to go back to class, the school administrator greets us with an unwelcome surprise: a visitor from the Capitol. An undercurrent of trepidation spreads through the students like a hurricane. The same questions are whispered by everyone: 'Who is it? Why are they here? What do they want?'

We get the answer once the entire upper school is assembled. There, a visibly nervous Mr. Filbert introduces a special guest: the newly appointed Education Minister of Panem, Dania de Laurentis. The school administrator's announcement does nothing to calm the storm. If anything, it worsens it.

The minister, an emaciated woman with bright purple and blue streaked hair, minces up on stage. Her rainbow-hued clothes make Effie Trinket's look positively sensible. Her silver sandals gleam in the coal oil lights, matching the bright sequins on the woman's suit. Everything about her screams Capitol bigwig. Right down to her affected little cough to test the auditorium speakers.

"Thank you! Thank you so much!" she trills in her lilting accent at our anemic applause. "I am overjoyed at your generous and enthusiastic welcome!"

On either side of me, Peeta and Thom let out identical snorts of disbelief. I struggle not to follow suit. Enthusiastic is the last word I'd use to describe my classmates' welcome.

Oblivious to our lack of interest, the woman continues. "Since next year is the seventy fifth anniversary of the Hunger Games," Minister de Laurentis twitters, sounding like a strangled bird, "President Snow has decided, in his boundless and infinite wisdom, that one special student from each district will be privileged enough to get a front row seat at those momentous Games." She claps. "Isn't that exciting?"

No one answers.

"Now, before you ask, because I know you will," she gives us an exaggerated wink, "this does mean you will still have the chance to participate in both the Seventy Fourth and Seventy Fifth Hunger Games, depending, of course, on whatever special twist the original Gamemakers, what vaunted men and women they were, planned for the Third Quarter Quell. I know you're all excited to hear that!"

There are murmurs from the crowd. No one is excited to hear that.

"However," she continues, heedless of the underlying tension, "the lucky winner from each district will accompany the chosen tributes to the Capitol, where you will have the incredible opportunity to watch the Quell from the luxury of President Snow's own mansion. There, you will be fitted for Capitol clothing, you will taste Capitol food, and for the length of the Games, you will be treated to the full Hunger Games experience. Isn't that thrilling?"

A few of my classmates, including Delly, seem optimistic about the contest. The rest definitely don't.

"Any questions?" She blinks at us expectantly.

Silence greets her.

"Really?" She seems surprised. "I'd have thought someone would like to know more. Get the scoop, so to speak!"

Somebody calls out, "Why are they doing this now? The Quell's not 'til next year."

"Yeah," someone else pipes up, "I won't even be eligible for the Quell."

"Well, that's why we have one of the junior classes here with us. They'll also be participating." She waves her hand at a group I hadn't noticed before, the oldest year of the lower school. "However, President Snow didn't want to take this wonderful opportunity away from our eighteen year olds. Therefore, each and every single one of you will have the chance to compete for this prize." De Laurentis claps again. "To win, you must write and submit an essay about the Hunger Games. Make your essay personal. Tell us why the Games are important and how they affect you. All of the essays will be read by a committee in the Capitol, and the winner from each district will be the best, the most exciting, the most interesting entry." She pauses, drawing an overly affected breath. "It could be any one of you!"

A voice I recognize, Gale's, asks from the row behind me, "So we're supposed to write an essay about why we like the Hunger Games?" He sounds disbelieving.

"Yes!" She clasps her hands together. "Write one thousand of your best words about what the Hunger Games mean to you."

"I don't need a thousand words for that," Gale mutters. "I've got three. Forty. Two. Slips."

Thom elbows his leg.

The Education Minister smiles brightly at Gale, completely missing his true meaning. "Well, that's what it might mean for you! Extra food for your family. It might mean something very different to, I don't know, Miss Undersee, for example." She turns to the Mayor's daughter. She's probably the only student in District Twelve Minister de Laurentis knows by name. "Madge, what does it mean to you?"

Madge freezes, her hand wrapped in Johnny Mellark's. "Um, the Hunger Games are a chance for our district to show our true strength of character by, um…" She ducks her head. "I'm not good at public speaking." I feel a twinge of sympathy for her, being put on the spot like that.

"That's okay, dear," the minister says, taking pity on the girl. "That would be a lovely essay once you've found the right words. I look forward to reading your complete thoughts on the subject."

Somebody else raises their hand. "Do we have to do this?"

Minister de Laurentis taps the side of her bright purple mouth. "Well, President Snow was adamant that participation is voluntary, but honestly, I don't understand why anybody would turn down such a magnificent opportunity!"

Peeta leans over to me. "Clearly they're not from District Twelve."

"When is the essay due?" someone asks.

"Oh, I can't believe I forgot to tell you!" she gasps. "Thank you so much for asking! We want to give you plenty of time to brainstorm and write the perfect entry. Essays will be collected on the last day of school, May Thirtieth. So you'll have plenty of time to choose your one thousand best words!"

I turn my head, my eyes finding Thom's. I can tell he doesn't see the point. I don't either. Gale's sarcastic response of forty two slips strikes a chord. He's stupid to say it where someone from the Capitol can hear, but he's not wrong. Going into the Games isn't a good thing here in Twelve. If you're Reaped, you're dead. Even though the minister hasn't stated it outright, I'm sure the Capitol expects the essays to effuse about glory and the greatness of the Games.

I think about the ten slips with my name on them. When my father died, the Capitol stopped providing tesserae for his portion, but my name's still in the bowl for him. It's not fair. But nothing about the tesserae system is fair. At least Prim will only have one slip. I'll make sure of it.

oOo

The assembly drones on all morning. After answering more questions and gushing about the 'amazing opportunity' the Quell Contest affords, the Education Minister switches gears, highlighting new reforms and changes to the curriculum so that 'no child will be left behind.' Whatever that means. I don't bother paying attention for most of it, instead playing a game with Peeta to pass the time.

When we finally break for lunch, Delly, Thom, Peeta, and myself snag our normal spot. Once again, Peeta's brought something for the whole group, this time an herb stuffing made with stale bread.

"So what do you think of all that?" Thom asks without any preamble.

"I think it's great!" Delly exclaims, dishing out the food before anyone can object. "I'd love to see the Capitol! I bet everyone's so pretty and nice."

Thom and I exchange a look.

"Are you for real?" I can't quite keep the disbelief out of my voice.

The bright girl pauses, her spoon hovering over Thom's bowl. "Oh, I'm sorry, I just get excited about things. But wouldn't it be great?" She returns to her task as she talks. "I'd love to be able to go to the Capitol without having to worry about competing in the Games, wouldn't you?" She doesn't wait for an answer. "To be able to eat all of that food? See those sights? Knowing you can do it and not die? It'd be like a dream come true." She regards our group, taking in our expressions. She must not like what she sees because she sighs, deflating a little. "I mean, I'd like to go to the Capitol. I'd like to go everywhere. I'd like to see everything, meet everyone. I know it's a silly dream, but…" Delly shrugs, picking at her food. "I just want to see what the world's like beyond the fence."

I feel bad for putting her down and I extend my hand out to her. "It's okay. We all have silly dreams."

She smiles at me but doesn't take my hand. "What's your dream, Katniss?"

I don't have to give it a lot of thought; it's been the same dream I've had since Aven was born. Seeing how happy my parents were cemented it for me. "I'd like a family someday. I'd like to know my kids won't be Reaped. I'd like to have the same love my parents did," I admit, remembering how my mother looked at my father. He was the sun which made her flowers bloom. I want the same thing for myself. I just don't want it to end in tragedy like my parents' love did. And I know what caused it. "I don't want to work in the mines. They killed my father. But… the feelings, those are what I really want. I want to be happy. I want to be loved. I want to know my family will be fed and we'll be safe. That we won't have to be scared." I realize I've said too much and I glance down at the table, my fingers tracing the wood grain.

Peeta places his hand on mine. "Sounds like a good dream."

"Yeah, but it's probably not gonna happen." Not anymore. I don't know if I'm going to survive the winter, much less a lifetime.

"Hey," Thom says, poking me in the forehead with his spoon, "don't give up hope. Who knows? Maybe you'll get the fairytale. Who knows? Maybe Delly here will win that trip to the Capitol."

I give my friend a small smile. "Thanks. But I think Delly's got a better chance of her dream coming true than I do of getting mine."

I glance around the table to see expressions of sympathy from Delly and Thom. But on Peeta's face, there's an expression I don't expect.

Determination.

oOo

After school, Prim wanders off, eager to have a little more time to work off her restlessness. I don't argue. She'll be happier if she spends the afternoon out of the house. We all spent too much time cooped up during the blizzard. I wish I could indulge my wanderlust as well, but I've got other responsibilities.

Peeta and I go together to collect Aven from Hazelle, who gives the baker's boy a strange look. I know what she's wondering. Why is this merchant hanging around with a girl from the Seam? From the set of her lips, I know the woman doesn't approve of the association. I've got to smooth her ruffled feathers and fast. I can't afford to try to find another person to watch Aven while I'm at school.

Thinking up an explanation, I answer her unasked question, "Peeta's family. His brother's married to my cousin." It's got the benefit of being the truth. Even though I've never spoken to my cousin and we barely consider each other family at all.

Hazelle nods, her frown easing. We understand family obligation in the Seam.

But it's not the real reason why Peeta's with me. In fact, I'm not really sure why Peeta's walking me home anymore. With Donaldson's arrest, I don't need the protection.

The walk back to my house is quiet. The silence only broken by Aven chattering about the adventures he and Posy got into today.

When we get inside, I set Aven down on the floor, noticing he's missing his hat. We must have left it at the Hawthornes'. I'll need to get it later. I give my little brother a toy and turn him loose to play. He dives under the kitchen table with his prize, a carved bear. A few seconds later, he's growling and chattering to himself, reenacting one of the hunting stories my father used to tell us.

I indulge in watching Aven play before turning to Peeta. "Thanks for walking me home. I know it's out of your way."

"It's no problem."

"You don't need to, if you've got other places to be." I know both he and Johnny still work at the bakery. His mother wouldn't approve of her son wasting time with a girl from the Seam.

"Don't worry about it," he dismisses my words with a wave of his hand. Draping his coat over the back of a chair, he pulls down our grain mill and sets it on the table. He's getting ready to make more bread for us. Even though he's already helped us so much, he still feels the need to do more.

I can't contain my curiosity any longer. "Why are you walking me home?"

Pausing in his task, he looks up at me, his eyes intent. "I told you, to keep you safe."

"But I'm fine. Darius would tell me if I were in any danger."

His jaw twitches. Slowly, deliberately, he fills the mill before saying, "Um, so, I was thinking, for the essay. I'm not very good with words, but maybe I could draw a picture or something."

"Peeta, don't change the subject."

"I like walking you home, Katniss," he says, turning the handle of the mill round and round. He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean, we're friends, right? Friends can walk each other home."

I'm still confused. Thom never walks me home and the only time any guy ever has was when we were dating. And I'm not dating Peeta.

I decide not to push any further. "I don't know if I'm going to write anything," I say instead as I hang Aven's jacket and my shawl on their hooks.

His shoulders untense and he resumes his grinding. "Why not?"

"Doesn't seem to be a point." I shrug. "Even if I did get selected to go to the Capitol, it's not like I could go."

His brow furrows. "Why not?"

"Prim and Aven need me."

Peeta frowns, looking around. "What about your mom?"

I freeze, realizing I've said too much. "Mom's busy. She has to work."

"Is that why I've never seen her?" He pours more grain into the mill. "Is that why she wasn't at Prim's birthday party?"

"Yeah. Yes," I say quickly, trying to cover my fumble. "She's really busy. You don't know how hard it is here in the Seam, you know. People constantly get hurt, need healing. Babies are born every day." I turn away, pulling out the rest of the ingredients we're going to need.

"Yeah, that's true. But your mom should be home sometimes." Peeta comes over to grab a bowl to put the coarse flour into. "She's never here. Not in the morning when I pick you up for school, not in the afternoon when I drop you off. She wasn't here when you were attacked. Either time!" He peers down at me, his blue eyes taking in everything. "Where was she?" he asks, his voice deathly quiet. "Why didn't she take care of you?"

I blanch, trying to think of something to say to deflect this line of questioning, but Peeta's brain moves too quickly.

"Your mom's dead, isn't she? And you're hiding it!"

"No!" I exclaim, my heart pounding.

"Then where is she, Katniss?" he demands. "Why isn't she helping you? Why do you have to take all this responsibility? Why are you in charge of the family?"

I stare at him, trying to come up with an explanation other than the truth. The truth is too dangerous. The fewer people who know, the better. But I can't. I don't want to lie to Peeta, not when he's done so much for me. It'd feel like a betrayal, and I can't bear that.

I come to a decision. Glancing at Aven, who's still playing under the table, I take several steadying breaths. "Can you keep a secret?"

His hand brushes my elbow. "You know I can."

"Mom's been here the whole time." I lead him to the bedroom door. Screwing up my courage, I open it to reveal what's inside.

Peeta gasps. I know what he sees: a merchant woman, old before her time, lying motionless in her bed. Her once blonde hair has gone gray at the roots and hangs lank and limp around her face. Her expression is haggard, her body gaunt. She's not the vibrant healer of the Seam she was only a few months ago. "What's wrong with her?"

I shake my head. "I don't know. She's been like this since my father died. Nothing any of us say or do gets through to her. It's like she's willing herself to die, but her body hasn't quite caught up."

"What are you going to do?" He's asking about the future. A future I'm not quite ready to face.

"I can't tell anyone," I say in a low tone. "They'll take us away. And..." I remember Darius's words about how they take children, especially young ones, from the Community Homes to fill out the Peacekeeper ranks. "And we'll probably never see Aven again."

Peeta gives me a look.

I refuse to explain. It's something Darius told me in confidence, I don't feel right sharing it. Instead I concentrate on the present. "No one can know. Until Mom gets better, this stays between us."

"Is she gonna get better?" The question is pointed.

"She has to." If she doesn't… I can't finish the thought.

Thankfully I don't have to because there's a knock on the door.

Peeta and I exchange a glance.

Prim wouldn't knock. I wonder if it's Hazelle or one of the Hawthorne kids, bringing us Aven's missing hat. It doesn't have that official Peacekeeper quality to it. It sounds more impatient.

Leaving Peeta in the bedroom doorway, I hurry to answer the knock.

It's not Hazelle. It's Bristel, Gale's current girlfriend.

She storms into the main room, not even bothering to ask if she can come in. "Is your ma here?"

"She's out," I say, loud enough that my voice will carry. Bristel is one of the biggest gossips in the Seam. I don't know what would be worse: Bristel seeing my mother, or Peeta coming out of the bedroom. The best thing to do is get her to leave. "Is there something I can do for you?" I try to make my tone as unfriendly as possible.

"My sister's real sick. My ma sent me to get Miz Everdeen." She turns to look at me. "We need some healing."

I lick my lips. I can tell Bristel's not going to be put off. "What kind of sick? Mom's been training Prim and me. Maybe I could help."

She shakes her head. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Well…" I glance worriedly at the still open bedroom door. "At least tell me what the symptoms are so I can pass it on."

The girl lists them off: cough, runny nose, sleeping all the time. My worry lessens. It sounds like her little sister's got a cold. A bad one, but just a cold. Probably looks worse than it actually is. There's plenty of things around here I can give her. No need for my mother to make a personal visit.

"You know, Bristel," I tell her, going to the cupboards, motioning for her to follow me. I feel a surge of relief when she does. This way she won't actually see into the bedroom. "My mom's got this herb tea she swears does wonders on sicknesses like that. Why don't I give you some and you can take it home? If your sister starts to feel better, come back and I'll give you more. If she doesn't, one of us will come over and take a look."

It's a gamble. But it's one I've had to make before. Plenty of people have come for healing; so far no one's become too suspicious.

Bristel thinks about for a long moment, then she finally nods. Thank goodness.

I spoon out a little bit of the herb mixture into a cloth bag. "Give her half of this when you get home and the other half before she goes to bed. Let me know how she's doing in school tomorrow and we'll go from there."

The girl pulls a slip of paper out of her pocket and trades it for the herbs. I give it a cursory glance before pocketing it. It's a chit for a bucket of coal. Both of her parents are miners and get their fuel for cheap. It's one of the few benefits the miners have. To them, a bucket of coal is an easy trade, while for me, it's something I'd have to buy, eating up my precious coin. A single bucket won't last long, but every bit helps.

When she's finally gone, Peeta walks into the room with an inscrutable expression on his face.

I cross my arms. "Why didn't you shut the door?"

"I thought it was gonna be one of the Hawthornes!" he protests.

"You still should've shut it! No one knows about my mother! No one can know. We can't end up in the Community Home." I have to make him understand. This is too important.

"Why not? It'd be better than you going to Cray! It'd be better than having to spend all your time trying to figure out where your next meal is coming from. It'd be better than having to hide your mother from everyone. You're walking a fine line, Katniss. Someone will find out, and then you'll be in the Community Home anyway. Wouldn't it be better to go now?"

"No!" I can't believe he's even suggesting it. Kids die in the Community Home. And worse... "They'll take Aven away."

Peeta narrows his eyes. "You said that before. What do you mean? And how do you know?"

I know this time he isn't going to let it go. It's better to come clean. "Darius told me that's how they get Peacekeepers. If you're young enough, you get sent to Two."

"How does he know that?"

"Because that's what happened to him."

Peeta's lips thin. He looks at my innocent baby brother, who's discarded his toy and is singing a little nonsense song to the cat. Losing him would destroy Prim. It'd destroy me. Everything I've done has been to protect my family, and if they take Aven, it'll all be in vain. I can see those same thoughts running through Peeta's head as he watches Aven play. "Right," he agrees, nodding at me. "No one can know. I'll keep your secret."

I smile shakily. "Thank you."

oOo

Food's tight over the next few days. Even with the addition of what Prim's been able to hunt and gather, we're still having to find creative ways to fill our stomachs.

The weather's turned cold. Bitterly cold. With the thick layer of snow, that means there's even less to forage. Everyone's got a cold now, and while Bristel's sister has made a full recovery, the rest of the Seam has come down with the sniffles. My mother's clients are happy to pay me in yarn, coal chits, old clothes, and even a few household supplies like pots, pans, and glasses. But no one gives us food or coin.

Another problem has surfaced. Aven's starting to turn up his nose at the thin broth and tesserae mush. Even Peeta can't do much with what we have. We need money. We need supplies. I look at my last five coins nervously. Because of the cold, we've had to buy more fuel. Even the coal chits aren't enough. But Aven needs to eat.

Maybe if I go into town I can find something. Or the Hob. I might get lucky at the Hob.

But not today. The weather's too cold today. I'll go tomorrow.

Tomorrow isn't any warmer.

I'm struggling with Aven to put on his winter clothes so I can take him to Hazelle's when there's a knock at the door. "Prim, can you get that? It's probably Peeta," I say over Aven's yelling of "No no no no no no no no!"

"Katniss?" Prim calls back. "It's for you!"

I manage to get one of my brother's arms into his coat and wrestle with the other. "Tell Peeta I'll be there in a second!"

"Um, I'm not Peeta?"

I stop what I'm doing and whirl to see Darius standing there, a cloth-covered package held in one white-gloved hand. Aven takes the opportunity to wriggle out of his coat and dart over to Prim, lifting his arms to be picked up. I should be more annoyed but my heart's racing at the sight of the Peacekeeper's uniform. I have to remind myself the red-haired man is not going to hurt me. "D-darius!" I try not to flinch at my stammer.

The red-haired man shuffles his feet and says, "Sorry to bother you so early, but I got something for you."

I'm not sure what to say, so I just tilt my head.

He sets the package on the kitchen table and removes the protective cloth to reveal a gray and white speckled chicken.

My eyes widen. "Darius, this is too much!" Chickens are valuable here in Twelve. Only merchants and a few well-to-do Seam families own them.

"No no no, it's not anything at all! The mess hall had too many of 'em, and with this cold, we were having trouble feeding them all. Shipments are running late, trains are getting stuck. It's hard to keep the tracks clear, with all this snow. It's too much work for us and we're not a high priority district. The cold doesn't help either."

I'm sure he's not supposed to tell me all this, but it's clear he's nervous. "But… why bring the bird to me?" It doesn't make any sense.

"They were just gonna kill it, and frankly that seemed to be a waste of a good laying hen. I convinced the mess hall captain to let me take it."

All of a sudden, the bird's value skyrockets. A chicken will feed us for a meal. A laying hen will give us eggs for at least a few years. It's an amazing gift, one I can't accept. "No, really, Darius it's too much. I can't pay you-"

"Call me Dar," he interrupts.

"Dar, it's too much."

"It's a gift, Katniss. I wanted to give it to you." He blushes. "Please. Just take it."

I play with the end of my braid. "But why?"

He blushes even more. "We're friends, right? That's what friends do. It's okay for friends to give each other gifts."

"But I don't have anything to give to you."

"How about a walk? And a conversation?" He sounds almost eager. "I could do a walk and a conversation. That's worth a chicken or two, right?"

Not to me it isn't, but if that's what Darius wants, who am I to say no? I'm definitely getting the better part of the deal. There's one problem, though. "Um, I need to get to school," I remind him.

"Great! I'll walk you there." His smile is both expectant and hopeful.

"Um… okay. Prim, can you stay here and take Aven to the Hawthornes'?" And wait for Peeta, I silently add.

My sister nods, a little crease forming between her eyebrows.

I grab the shawl Darius gave me and wrap it around my shoulders. "So, I guess I should say thank you."

Darius flushes and rubs the back of his neck. "It was my pleasure."

oOo

"Are you okay?" Peeta corners me as soon as we leave school.

I shake my head at him and start walking to the Hawthornes'. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Prim said you had to talk with a Peacekeeper."

"Dar?" I flinch at the slip. "It wasn't anything, just a thank you," I hurry to cover.

Peeta eyes narrow at the nickname. "A thank you for what? And where'd you get that chicken from?"

I guess he must've seen the new chicken when he picked up Prim and Aven this morning. "That's what I had to say thank you for. He brought us a chicken from the barracks that they were gonna just kill."

"So?"

"So he didn't have to."

"And what'd he want for it?" He sounds suspicious.

"Nothing."

Peeta looks at me like I'm stupid. "He's a guy, Katniss. Of course he wanted something."

"You didn't," I point out. "At least that's what you said."

"But I… that's not what I meant!"

He's confusing me. I cross my arms over my chest. "Then what did you mean?"

"It's just… I don't want you to get hurt, Katniss! He could be taking advantage of you!"

"He's not."

"For now. What will you do when he wants more? What are you going to do then?"

Donaldson's leering yellow eyes rear up into my thoughts. A shiver of fear runs through me. I tighten the shawl Darius gave me around my shoulders to cover my reaction. Peeta doesn't need to know his words have affected me so much. Memories of what that man did already haunt my nightmares, I refuse to let the monster steal anything more from me. "He won't."

"You don't know that."

"Neither do you!"

"Yes, I do, Katniss! He's a guy. They can't be trusted!"

"What about you?"

He reels back. "Me? I'd never hurt you!"

"But you're a guy. Isn't that what you said? 'Guys can't be trusted.' So why should I trust you?"

"That's not what I meant! I meant he's an outsider. You need to stop seeing him. I can't be around all the time to protect you!"

Any lingering fear morphs into anger at his words. I stop walking and put my hands on my hips, glaring at Peeta. "I can take care of myself." Who is he to insinuate that I need his protection? I've been taking care of myself and my siblings since my father died. I helped my mother while he was sick. I'm capable of handling whatever comes my way.

He glares back at me. "Well obviously not, 'cause you had to go to Cray."

"I was looking after my family." I rub my hands up and down my arms, trying not to remember that night. I'm still not proud of what I had to do, but I'll do it again if it means my family won't starve.

"Yeah," he scoffs, "by turning into a whore. If I hadn't helped you, you would've gone back to him. Or to some other Peacekeeper!"

My mouth drops open. He can't be implying what I think he is. That I asked for what happened to me with Donaldson. How dare he? He doesn't get to tell me what I can and can't do to provide for my family. He has no idea how much I agonized over that decision. How much it hurt me. If I'd had any other options I would have taken them. But I didn't and I will not stand to have someone I thought was my friend judge me.

That's it. I'm done. My hands drop, curling into fists. "You know what? Screw you!" My voice is deathly quiet. "I didn't ask for your help. You're the one who wanted to. You're the one who took out tesserae without even talking to me, so don't try to blame that on me! We don't need your help."

He's gone pale with two bright spots of color on his cheeks. He seems shocked at my anger.

I don't care. He's hurt me. "I thought you were my friend. That's what you said you wanted. Well if this is how you're gonna be, I don't want your 'friendship'. Friends don't call their friends whores or kick them while they're down." My words catch in my throat. I'm so angry. So hurt. I take a deep breath. "Goodbye, Peeta."

I storm off, hot tears searing my eyelids. I refuse to let Peeta know just how much he's hurt me. I didn't ask for this life. But I damn well refuse to let anyone insult how I choose to live it.

oOo

AN:
Written: 4/5/16
Revised: 8/5/16
Revised 2: 8/29/16
Betaread by: Xerxia & Amy

So that happened.

Peeta's shown in canon that he can get jealous, and that he does. He's also been known to say really stupid things, even without being hijacked. Look at the end of the first book. His reaction to Katniss's revelation that the romance wasn't all real is pure teenage drama queen - which is what this is here. And teenagers say really stupid and cruel things when they've got their drama on.

Peeta thinks he and Katniss are dating, which is not the case - but he's making an assumption. Which he also does in canon. Even though it's not quote-unquote official, in his mind, there's a relationship there. He's also jealous and doing what a lot of guys do and stating that women should be concerned about other guys but not them… we're getting a bit of "not all guys" mixed with "all men, except me" syndromes.

He's being stupid. It happens. Especially when jealousy and miscommunication are in play.

No worries, we love our Everlark. They just need to suffer a bit for their happy ending. Mwahahahaha.

Things we Randomized:

-If Prim hunted/gathered and if she got anything

Thanks for reading! Let us know what you think!