This is a draft chapter in a posted work. It will be kept unless the work is deleted.

Preview

Author's Note: I'm back! I care about writing this story, so thanks for hanging in there. Here's a little teaser while I write the upcoming chapters. The first section is Peeta's POV. After that is Katniss once again.

THUD, THUD, CRASH. The old wooden door hidden in the side of the alleyway crashes to the ground with the force of Gale's boot. Gale rushes his siblings and then his mother inside the building. I don't know what's inside, but it can't be worse than what's slowly approaching me in the alleyway. Gale passes through the door way and I quickly follow him inside.

For the briefest of moments, fear escaped me. Something about the tenderness of a mother's arms wrapped around me was a distraction from the world. My own mother isn't an affectionate type, so Gale's mother's embrace was equally strange and calming. When Gale began kicking in the door, the sound awakened my senses. The noise caused a stir in the ghouls and the real world intruded the moment.

When I pass the doorway, Gale glances at the broken door laying on the floor, and we silently lift it together and lean it against the door frame. Through a crack, I see a ghoul wandering into the alleyway and I fear he may have heard the commotion. I turn to see the Hawthornes huddled together. I bring my index finger to him lips for silence and gesture with my arms to move away from the doorway.

With light feet and a pounding heart, I make my way around the corner of the building. The floors are layered with coal and dust beneath my boots. As we make our way through the building, our shoes kick up the dust and it spirals into my throat and suffocates me. I choke back a cough and cover my mouth with my forearm. The sooner we get my family and get back to the Victor's Village, the better.

Silence should be a comfort, but the white noise is deafening. Instead of feeling peace, I'm overwhelmed by my thoughts. I'm angry with myself for being hurt despite how illogical it is. I should be out there with them. What if they don't come back? Can I even imagine my life without Gale or Peeta?

My heart starts racing and I grab my chest and try to control my breathing. I shut my eyes to block out the world, but it's my mind that needs to be silenced. Prim wraps her arm behind my neck and I rest my head on her shoulder. I feel like a child. I used to comfort Prim in this exact way. That feels like a different lifetime ago.

I open my eyes and see my mother staring at us. She doesn't say anything, but she doesn't need to. I don't want them to understand what it's like to be a part of the Games. The thought of causing Prim more suffering devastates me. None of this would be happening if I had just died like I was supposed to.

The front door is shoved open and in walks Haymitch. He's made a few trips to his house to collect some supplies, he said. I'm sure in one of those bags piled on the floor is a few bottles of alcohol. The thought makes me sick, but all my thoughts lately leave me queasy.

Haymitch steps inside and immediately shuts the door. The sun is still peaking in through the house, but it's slowly fading in the sky. I watch Haymitch until he meets my eyes. He shakes his head and turns away from me.

I peel myself away from Prim and stand, following Haymitch into the kitchen.

"It's quiet out," he says facing away from me. "Not like earlier."

"Any sign of them?" I ask.

"No," Haymitch says. "But I'm sure they're fine. The Seam is on the opposite side of town. They might have just gotten held up a bit to wait for things to...settle down."

I hitch my breath and take another step to him. "You mean for people to die?"

He turns around and puts a hand on my shoulder. "Yes, to die. You heard the screaming earlier. Or to hide. That'd be the smart thing to do, but people panic. Some people probably had some sense about them."

"Gale and Peeta," I whisper.

"Are fine," Haymitch says. "Those boys are smart, Katniss. Getting weapons and both their families just take some time."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Rest," he says. "When they're back we'll need to formulate a plan. There's going to be a lot of mouths to feed and I don't want to be a sitting duck here for long. We'll need you ready to move as soon as possible."

Haymitch pats my shoulder and steps toward the table and plops himself down in a chair. He props his head in his hands and runs them up his face and through his hair. I haven't seen him look so stressed before. I sit down in the chair opposite him and do all that I can do. I wait.