Chapter 5

I could see out my kitchen window and into Peeta's living room. This morning I spied him puking for over an hour into a bucket on the floor of that room. He was retching and gagging. Seeing it made me want to follow suit. He looked miserable.

I touched the glass with my fingertips, feeling the cool smoothness and wishing I could be a better friend to my neighbor.

I was no longer lying on the floor. I had a routine now. Structure. Rigidity. Purpose. I clung to these things like my life depended on them. I was afraid of going back to the dark place. But I was in no place to help a friend in need.

I woke at dawn. I showered. I ate breakfast. I showered again. I walked to town and fetched any supplies I might need. I ate lunch. I wrote in my journal. I showered. I ate dinner. I started a fire. I watched the flames. I fell asleep on the couch.

It was breakfast time and I was trying to keep the yogurt in its rightful place, but Peeta's morning was invading mine. He deserved more than this.

He had been drinking almost ceaselessly, from what I could tell. His neighborly supplier seemed to have no trouble providing for his unquenchable thirst.

I needed to speak to Haymitch, it would seem.

I showered. Scrubbed. Scrubbed harder. Tried to think of a way I could shut my curtains and not think about Peeta. He had been wasting away, becoming more and more like a younger, more desperate Haymitch.

I walked with purpose out of my house and toward town. At Haymitch's house I took a hard right and marched up to his door knocking as hard as I could.

"To what do I owe this pleasure? Why, I haven't seen your shining face in ages." He drawled at me after opening the door.

"Do come it. You look famished, would you like something to eat? To drink?" He smiled coyly.

I stood in the doorway, refusing to enter.

"Stop giving it to him." I stated flatly.

"Stop giving what to who?" He asked, far too sanguinely.

"Peeta. Stop. You're hurting him."

"Peeta's a big boy. He gets to make his own decisions. Regardless of how foolish they are. Trust me sweet cheeks, I've tried" The humor missing from his words.

"He doesn't deserve this," my voice lifeless in my own ears.

"You couldn't be more right." Haymitch agreed knowingly.

"Then you'll stop?" I questioned.

"No. I'll keep giving Peeta whatever he asks for, because like it or not, I like him more than I like you."

"But you're letting him kill himself."

"I'm not forcing it down his throat. If you care so much, why don't you tell him to stop?"

"I can't"

"You won't. There's no use lying to me Sweets. But, if you want to delude yourself, you just go right on ahead."

I turned on my heel and headed into town for dinner supplies.

At the meadow I stopped and stared, giving the shared grave it's moment of silence. The forest behind it called to me, but I refused to answer it. I was no longer a hunter.

I made a watery soup and salad from my supplies. I glanced out the kitchen window. I hadn't seen Peeta leave the house in a few days. He was pretty holed up in there. I hadn't spoken to him in over a week.

I collected my dinner and without thinking much about it set one foot in front of the other and found myself at Peeta's front door. It was unlocked as usual and I let myself in.

"Peeta?" I called out cautiously.

Peeta was sitting at his kitchen table. Bottle in hand, sipping gently, hands trembling slightly.

"I don't think I want you to see me like this" He said, staring at the wall.

"I brought you dinner."

"I've no appetite" He voice sounded dead and cold.

"I'll just leave it then. You can have it later if you like." I moved to set the food down beside him.

His hand reached out for my wrist, finding it and wrapping it tightly. He looked up, eyes blood shot and desperate.

"Why are you here?"

"I told you. I brought you dinner."

"Why?"

"I thought you might be hungry. You don't look well."

"And you want to help me?"

I pulled at my hand, trying to get it back.

"I see you drinking. All the time."

"Why do you care?" His eyes hard and steely.

"Because. We were once friends. Back before we died inside." I whispered.

"I can't"

"You can't, what?" I asked softly, not understanding.

"I can't stop drinking. I shake and see things, and it makes the things from the Capital come back. I'm not strong enough to stop." His eyes painful and raw.

With my un-detained hand I reached up and touched his face. Just the way I had briefly wanted to when he had come to see me initially. I brushed the blonde hairs from his brow and ran them down the side of his face.

"I wish I could un-break you." I said softly.

He leaned his face against my palm then and closed his eyes, "I wish I could un-break you too."

I looked closely at him then. His hair shaggy and grown out longer than I had ever seen it. Even his face was covered in the soft blond stuff. His eyes were sunken and dark, his lips less full. He had lost weight and his clothes were wrinkled and poorly fit.

I sat down in the chair next to him and placed my hand on top of his. I looked into his blue eyes and lost myself for a moment. It no longer mattered that my sister had died, it no longer mattered that the town was in ruins. All that mattered was getting Peeta's eyes to shine again. I had to help him.

END CHAPTER.