The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins.

Peeta's POV

I severely dislike being anxious. It makes my usually eloquent and swift words come out rushed and not well-thought out even if in reality they've spent way too much time locked away in my mind.

I'm really anxious right now. Of course my way with talking would fail me the one day I need it the most.

Katniss' grip on my hand has other advantages, as she pulls me to my feet when we're asked by the chipper woman to stand up. The judge is about to come in. It serves as a reminder that after all the anticipation, this is really happening.

There's a part of me that's glad it's beginning, since it means the end is getting closer simultaneously. I got this way of thinking from my mother. I didn't inherit it; like many other things, it was forced on me. Sometimes a slap on the cheek can hurt less than the wait for it, knowing it's coming but not when. Watching her circle me around, before her temper gets the best of her, many times because of something I've said to make it finally do so. I have a temper, too.

There's a part of me that's thrilled to be here. Despite what happened yesterday with Rye, I am confident in my father, in Bannock, in Katniss. Katniss. When I confined in her about my hesitance to share all these things facing strangers, she amazed me. She did something equally fearsome for her – opening up to me. Sometimes it's easier to say things in front of an entire crowd than in front of a particular person.

The part of me that wants nothing more than to get up and leave overshadows everything else. Even the thought of Katniss' bravery, both yesterday and today, going to waste can't help the anxiety from creeping up. Not with my mother just a few meters from me. They're both sitting on the farthest ends at the separate benches. Katniss is the only thing concealing me from her. She is also the one that anchors me to my seat the moment we're told we may sit down, her thumb stroking the top of my hand over and over again. We haven't let go of each other since we walked in and I'd be delirious, if I weren't so desperately dependant on our hold. It saddens me how anything that happens between us is always clouded by the darkness of the situation.

I'm pulled back in the moment, as I notice Haymitch standing up from his seat. It is beginning.

"Good morning, Your Honor. I'm Haymitch Abernathy. I represent Barton Mellark," he begins, taking his place in front of us, facing the judge. "Ever since they got married when they were 18, he and Ellesse, the woman he wishes to divorce, have been living together in the living quarters above the inherited by Barton's family bakery. My client has three children from Ellesse – Bannock, Rye and Peeta. They may not be what we are fighting for today, but they still play a very important part. We are fighting for their safety and best living conditions. Your home is not just a house, the same way your mother is not just someone who gave birth to you. These boys lost the true meaning of one of these words a long time ago. I'm here to prove they don't deserve to lose the other."

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't just a tad worried about the drunkard's abilities. Right from the moment I saw the condition of his house, I was expecting him to fail us at one point or another. Throughout the past few weeks, he has continued to prove the opposite. That doesn't mean seeing the finale result; the opening statement he has taken the time to prepare, doesn't strike me.

"As the witnesses will confirm, Ellesse hasn't had much of a reputation as a mother to her children. Though she has never physically left them, she has allowed herself other physical actions. She has never taken responsibility for them, hasn't considered what's right under her nose to make work at the bakery, she so wants now, easier. Have you heard the cry of sorrow around the district, Your Honor? People are starving, not having anywhere to buy a decent loaf of bread. She wouldn't provide that place for them; she would take it in an even more final way." He's nearing dangerous territory by bringing up the poverty of 12. I no longer wonder who's taken over his body. That sounds more like Haymitch. "We have a witness who's witnessed the woman's cruelty firsthand." Katniss. I squeeze her hand, willing the comfort she's provided me to transfer right back to her. Her tiny, calloused fingers squeeze even tighter. My strong, brave Katniss.

"We do not plan to use it against her, but I find it worth mentioning. The final step leading to this divorce was the confirmation that she has another man in her life. While Mr. Mellark tried his best to raise his sons in the best enviroment possible, their mother gave her attention to another. The man's probably more familiar to her love than her own children are." I suspect the reason Haymitch chose to talk about this, even briefly, is to throw my mother and her support off their feet. It worked. As the crowd erupts for the first time, but more than likely not the last, I see my mother turn to her lawyer, who remains with a stoic expression, the only thing giving her discomposure away being a sigh that slips through her lips.

Haymitch has to take a moment to wait for everyone to calm down. I use the time to whisper "Is he here?" Both Katniss and Bannock, who's on my other side, tense up. They know who I'm asking about. I have no idea how he looks or even what his name is. I never saw the pictures Katniss provided of my mother with her lover. Even if my brother hadn't hid them, I wouldn't have wished for them myself. Just the knowledge hurt enough.

"I haven't seen him, but he might be in the back." I trust Katniss' words. My only acknowledgment of her response is a nod of my head. I don't want to look at her and see her pitiful eyes.

"Nobody should feel unsafe in their home," Haymitch continues immediately after the judge manages to shush the audience. "A divorce is guaranteed; with it the safety of the boys is too, since she doesn't even want to fight for them. The district, however, would not suffer the same good fate. Not if Ellesse Mellark, soon Dunstan, has even a little to say about it." He thanks the judge and, after his permission, returns to us.

My mother's lawyer is quick to rise from her seat. That fact, along with her confident walk, give away how much more experienced she is. I have lost track of how many different parts of Panem she's lived in and probably worked there, too. What a shame it'd be if her first loss happened in district 12 of all places.

"Good morning, Your Honor. I am Caroline Campbell and I am the attorney of Ellesse Mellark, soon to be Dunstan, as Mr. Abernathy so generously reminded." My hand, the one that's not holding Katniss', is already balled into a fist and she hasn't even brought up the real stuff. I can feel them coming, though. "You are going to hear a lot of things today. The bigger part of them will come from the other side of the room. Sometimes less is better and I'm here to prove that." Whatever I expected, it wasn't this.

"You will be told sad stories, intended to make you feel sorry. You will, just as every person in this room. I want every person to remember that I'm not defending a committed crime. There isn't one." I have found the cure for my anxiety. It's easily replaced with resentment. "No, my client is not fighting for her children. Really, she's doing them a favor. She has realized her mistakes and she's been working on them and will continue to do so, no matter the outcome of this case. Perhaps in the future, when she's in a better mental state, she will get them back." I want to puke.

Of course. Her words don't say too much, but don't provoke many questions, either. Some will interpret that my mother has lost her mind; others will say it's a midlife crisis. But they will all let it go. Sometimes less is better.

"If we do get into it, I don't see how the father is the innocent one. Watching helplessly should be considered just as much as a crime." No objections here. "The point, though, is that neither of the sides is a criminal. None of the accusations Mr. Abernathy presented are against the law." I don't have to check to know it's true. All I need is the reminder of Katniss' job. Why she has to do the things she does. There's no one else to.

"The property is Ellesse's just as much as it is Barton's. Did you know that when he first presented her the divorce papers, he had written it all as his own?" Did you know that she laughed in his face?, I want to scream. "There was a marriage. They both worked hard. She still is, having found a hopefully temporary job in a diner." We have no defense, I realize. We can't say we've been doing deliveries, because it's illegal and will get us into a whole new kind of trouble.

"Her boss will testify how well she's been doing, nothing like Mr. Abernathy described. She has the district's best interest in her mind. If she didn't, she would've just abandoned everything. Think about it – why would she even fight for a piece of property if she didn't? She could always go live with her sister, who is here to confirm their good relationship."

"Because she has to have everything, even if she doesn't really want it, the manipulative bi-" Katniss shushes me. It's not because she doesn't want anyone to hear; judging by the fire in her eyes it's the exact opposite. She's just trying to stop me from falling to an even lower level. Too late, I'm already sinking.

It's probably not the best idea, but I ignore the rest of the statement. Katniss' silky fingers serve as a perfect distraction. I take myself to a happier place – at my real home where I've left most of my paints. I imagine painting Katniss, starting with her fingers and continuing with all of the new little things I've learned about her, every detail. It would be my most realistic painting of her, as I've made up most of the things before, having no actual knowledge.

Caroline goes on for an exceptionally long time. Less is better? Then shut up.

I can't help but hear what I hope is her final lines, "Things are going to change no matter who gets the bakery. It'll be for the better if it's this woman. She'll be able to hire more employees, make the place livelier. Ellesse is the healthy choice and she promises a healthier life for this district." Ugh, she's not running for president. The thought makes me cringe, but my mood lifts when Caroline is allowed to return to her seat.

The game really begins when the first witness is asked to speak. Effie escorts Bannock to the box, where he takes an oath that he will tell the truth. The questions at him come from everywhere. The ones with Haymitch, who seems unshaken by Caroline's previous reminder that what we suffered through isn't against the law, are well-practiced and go by fast.

Bannock tells a story from the time before I was born. He recalls a hot summer day in which he wanted to go out with his friends, but mom didn't allow him. She didn't explain why, didn't even give him a job to do. It was just one of those things she does just to throw someone off their feet and remind them it's she who's in charge. Young, careless Bannock didn't listen, of course. He was barely out of the door before she was dragging him home by his sweaty shirt, up the stairs and into the closet, where she locked him for hours in the unventilated air, until she really did have something for him to get done.

I use my free hand to take a hold of Elsa's, who is trembling, but sweating at the same time, as if she is brought back to that day. It's like she's living vicariously through Bannock. It reminds me of Katniss' reactions, while I told her my stories.

Bannock admits to Caroline that after that he didn't suffer much in the hands of our mother. That, however, was because she found her next victim.

A lot of gazes are suddenly on Rye. Bannock's, our parents', Haymitch's, Elsa's, Katniss'. But not mine. I don't expect anything from Rye. It looks like he is from me, hence the staring at my direction. He meant you, idiot, no matter how much you wish you aren't a part of this family, you are.

His voice startles me and I'm forced to look at him, after hearing his words, "May I speak?" It could be his polite tone, or the fact that he spoke at all; either way, I'm caught off guard. Everyone else seems to be, too. Not Caroline, who looks like she was expecting this from the start.

"It's our side's turn for a witness. And we're not even done with Bannock yet," she says hurriedly.

"I've heard enough from the oldest kid," the judge says dismissively. Effie takes this as her cue to switch Bannock's and Rye's places. I'm surprised at how easy it happens. Not only because it's a drift from the rules, but because the judge allowed it. The same judge, whose son Rye attacked. He's probably expecting something stupid to come out of my brother's mouth that will teach us all a lesson and make me wish I didn't secretly want for him to speak up. It's not far from my expectations, either.

"Can I take the lead?" Caroline asks, the second after Rye swears to tell the truth. Both Haymitch and the judge let her go ahead.

"Alright, Rye. I want to know what distinguishes your statement from the one your older brother just made and the one your younger brother will," she begins, pacing in front of him. The nervous action is making its first appearance. Rye has already managed to shatter the wall in front of her, the impassive expression, and he hasn't even started really talking yet.

"Nothing you'd like to hear," Rye responds with a shrug. There are snickers from the crowd, probably from his friends and girls that are next on the line waiting for him. I allow myself just a smirk.

"The brutality of my words is probably going to be what distinguishes me," he says, locking eyes with Caroline's disappointed ones.

"Are you implying your brother wasn't honest?" she asks, making me roll my eyes. Of course that's what she'd get at.

"No. I do feel like he saved up a few things. I don't blame him; there is certain pressure in front of this audience." He shouldn't blame anyone, since less than 24 hours ago he gave up on everything out of fear from people's reactions.

"I'm not going to tell stories to make you feel sorry for me. You're right, it's not going to get me anywhere and I'm not particularly fond of digging up old wounds. So I'm just going to give you the facts. That's what's going to make me different," Rye says. Not knowing what to expect and scared of the unknown, I turn to Haymitch. He looks like he's sorry he let Caroline be the first to talk with my brother… or maybe letting him talk at all.

"My mother did get bored of Bannock after awhile. After I was born, to be precise. Then she got bored of me and found Peeta. He had it the worst, because he was the third boy in a row. You can imagine how messy that can be in a merchant family." Sad facts, but facts nevertheless. "If my parents had had another child, it would have been the next victim. Why? I don't know. It's just what happens, it's what she does. You can't change someone's nature, the only thing you can do is stay the hell away from it if it's poisonous. Done."

"Has your mother ever showed you mercy?" Caroline questions him.

"The saddest fact is it doesn't matter. None of the things I told you matter. I'm starting to wonder if you're doing this on purpose, Miss Campbell. Making me go 'round in circles… You did say my mother's abusive tendencies aren't against the law. How about harming someone for life? A near-death experience?"

The courtroom finds itself in dead silence. Some are too shocked, others (the bigger part) just don't know what to do, what to say. They really do not know.

"It is," a shaky voice says suddenly from right beside me. Katniss. "Near-murder is against the law." I'm sure there are people who are aware of that, like the judge and the attorneys present, but she elaborates anyway for those who don't, "For an example, the only time you can stand up against Peacekeepers is if they take their punishment a little bit too seriously. Unless your sentence is death, they have no right to go over the maximum… which is just below what can kill you. Otherwise they are the one in trouble." I'm sure she has many other examples, but this is the best one she could think of that doesn't highlight her job.

Rye takes the word, ignoring Caroline, who has her mouth open, but thankfully no words are coming out, "Thank you, Katniss." He smiles at her and she fidgets nervously next to me, keeping her head down. It's most likely not from my brother, but from all of the other eyes on her. Katniss doesn't talk much and never in front of a public. People will probably gulp down their tongues when they hear the statement I hope she's still making later.

"Huh," says Rye. "A lot of things are starting to make sense now." His wicked smile disappears as he continues with a more serious tone, "She told me not to say a word to anyone, you know. First and last time I've seen her scared."

Haymitch stands up, nearing Caroline. No one cares about rules and regalement anymore. He's probably doing the poor, dumbfounded woman a favor. "Would you like to let us in on that story, Rye?"

"I was very, very young. Basically a toddler, so I don't remember much. My memory probably should be even more messed up, but that kind of a mishap is hard to forget," he begins with a bitter laugh. "It was during the time my mother still did some of the work at the bakery. That day she was supposed to get some supplies and stuff from the train station." I risk a glance at my mother, but don't get a good look. Her hair falls like curtains, shielding her.

"It was a busy, summer day, so dad had to stay at the bakery with Bannock. There was no one to watch me, so mom was forced to take me and her pregnant belly all around the district. The part I remember most distinctively is the way back. She had both her hands full – one with goods, the other holding mine, as I struggled to keep up with her. But I couldn't. I honestly couldn't. I was barely walking, both from the fact that I had just learned to and because of how freaking hot it was. I begged her to stop; she yelled that if she does, she doesn't know if she'll be able to start again. Okay, who can blame a pregnant woman?" Probably the nicest thing my mother's done for me. Of course it happened before she got to meet me.

"I don't know if I tripped on something or just got too tired to put one leg in front of the other, but at one point I just fell down on the ground. She didn't care, just kept on walking. I was crying by that point, of course, so that grabbed the attention of a couple of people. She doesn't like that, never has, so she turned around. I wish she hadn't. She dropped everything on the ground, blamed me for it, like it was my plan all along. I got pulled upright, but not really right, by her strong grip. She was so anxious to get back home, too caught up in her angry muttering, that she didn't notice how she was holding me. It wasn't on purpose, but it still happened. I got my shoulder dislocated."

I've never heard this story. Not when we practiced with Haymitch and certainly not before dad filed for a divorce. By the looks of it, this is also everyone on our bench's first time. Caroline's, too. Of course mother wouldn't tell her. She was either too embarrassed or figured it wasn't a big deal.

"I didn't think it was possible, but I started crying even harder. I couldn't keep my arm the right way and even slightly moving was a terrible idea. My mother noticed, but didn't believe me. Thought I was pretending so we could stop, accused me of it. When she finally stopped and also probably realized she could get in trouble, she tried to pop it back into place herself. Judging by the immense pain, she made it worse. It wasn't enough pain to keep me awake, so, already more than tired, I passed out."

"What is the next thing you remember?" Haymitch asks him.

"I wasn't outside anymore, it wasn't as hot. We were in a house, but it wasn't ours. A woman had brought me back to consciousness with some kind of strong smelling herb. The second her hand met my shoulder, the tears started again. My mother said she'd take care of me and I should stop being a baby, never mind that I was."

"Did you recognize the woman?"

"No, I was a baby," Rye deadpans. I have a pretty good idea who it was. Looking at Katniss, I don't think she's far from the conclusion either.

"She obviously knew what she was doing. Distracting me with words and games, I barely realized when my shoulder was back in place. She did say it was a good thing we came to her, because if my mother had continued with her failed attempts… I'd have more than just slightly damaged muscles around the shoulder forever. Or should I say less."

The only mother trait I've seen her show is care about how Rye's doing at wrestling. Does that make her feel better? To see that her son is healthy and capable? All for her.

"She knew she had crossed the line," continues Rye. "She knew. She beat me so much afterward, you'd think she was trying to beat the memory out of me. When we came back to the bakery, we both pretended nothing had happened. But it had and I never forgot." He looks to the left, making me do so too. Our mother seems to have gotten over the ignorance part has moved on to staring intently.

"No, mom, your biggest weakness is not your lack of humanity. It is how much of a sad excuse of a mother you are." Ewald's words, but about our father. Rye knows how to turn the tables in his favor.

"Tell me… is that against the law?"

A/N: This took longer than I had hoped, but it was the hardest chapter to write so far. Sadly, the next one will probably take me about the same period of time, if not longer, because I have a very specific scene I want to end it at. Two very important things must happen that I also need to take the time with, since they set up a big part of the story.

A few other things I feel like I should mention: For the sake of the story I went pretty wild with Panem's laws, but I hope it ended up fitting what we know from canon as best as possible.

Ellesse was named in the first chapter, when I didn't give it much thought. My logic back then was again connected with the show Veronica Mars, in which there's a character Celeste that's also an evil mom. Ellesse/Celeste, get it? Okay. (Maybe I'll name Peeta's aunt Celeste, lol.) I did my best with his dad's name and Ellesse's last name:

Barton - from the barley farm
Dunstan - dark and stone

Huge thanks to anyone who has reviewed, favorited and followed, you all really help.