As I said, I'm not writing this sequel in the correct order. I'll be going back and forth, depending on where my inspiration takes me, writing about the storylines or scenes that inspire me. This next scene/storyline, which will span over several chapters, is one I should I ideally wait with until later. It takes place several years after the previous chapters. Quite a few things that I intend to write about later, such as Peeta's proposal (assuming he's the one who proposes LOL it might even be Katniss, who knows?), their wedding/toasting etc should have been written first. But this storyline just won't leave me alone, I have to pursue it before I'm free to write about other and hopefully happier days in their lives. At this point, they are married, and have been for some time, but they don't have any children. They are about 26 years old.

This is where the story turns dark. I categorized this story as romance/angst - well, here's where you'll be getting your angst fix (if you need it). It's been pretty fluffy so far, but the fun is over.

You have been warned. And Katniss and Peeta, I apologize in advance for what I'm going to do to you.

Written in Katniss' POV.

In every marriage there are good days, and there are bad days. Most days are good or average. Some are bad.

And a few are very, very bad.

In retrospect, I guess I should've expected something to happen. I should've known Snow wouldn't let us get away that easily.

I have a headache. There's a thunderstorm coming, I can feel it in every cell of my body. The air feels heavy, almost sticky, I can hardly breathe. It's as if all of nature is just waiting for the storm, for the release. I've been hunting, but I haven't seen even one single squirrel. I come home empty-handed, thirsty and annoyed. I look up at the clouds, see the dark thunder clouds forming, just hoping nature will just get over with it, so I can breathe again afterwards.

Peeta's not home when I open the door. I find that odd, his days at the bakery start very early, but he's usually home earlier than me. I usually come home to dinner on the table and lots of stories from the bakery.

I feel lonely here without him. I've been restless all day, it must've been the weather. I don't know why, but I really need him to be here with me. In the eerie silence, I find some of yesterday's bread and make myself a sandwich. I drink three glasses of water, but still I feel thirsty. My clothes are sticking to my body, everything feels damp.

Then I hear his footsteps in the hallway. "Peeta?" I say happily, and I hear his steps approaching. I smile in anticipation, I've been wanting to talk to him all day.

My smile dies the second he enters the room. There's something about the way he moves. Like a predator. His eyes are cold, distant.

He usually brings back some of the day's goods – unsold cookies, slightly burned bread, stuff they can't sell, but which is still perfectly edible. Old habits die hard, I guess, this is the kind of food Peeta grew up on. But today, his hands are empty.

My throat feels dry and thick. My whole body screams at me that something is wrong, but I can't place my finger on just what it is. I just study him in silence.

"Hi, Peeta, how was your day?" At this point I usually go over to him and give him a kiss on the cheek, but today, something holds me back. I study him closely, my brain trying to process what's going on.

He smiles at me, but somehow the smile leaves me feeling cold. "Hi, Katniss," he says, but he doesn't answer my question, or ask anything back. When he smiles, he reveals just a little bit too much of his teeth. It's like he's sneering at me.

Outside the window, I can see the thunder storms forming. The storm will be over us any minute. I've been waiting for it all day, but now that it's nearly here, all it does is fill me with dread.

He's walking towards me, and all I want is to shrink away from him, make sure there is some distance between us. I want to say something, but my tongue is so dry it sticks to the roof of my mouth.

"Katniss," he whispers, and that's when I recognize the voice.

The way he says my name, it sounds like… the mutts in the sewers underneath the Capitol. When they were out to kill me. My eyes widen in fear, and he – it – must've seen, must've understood, that I know. His hands reach out, fast as a snake, and he captures my wrists. I was trying to move towards the kitchen knives, but he predicts my every move.

"Katnissssssss," he says, he cocks his head. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing, I…."

The thunderstorm is upon us. The electricity goes out, the kitchen is dark. I can see the light from the first lightning, illuminating everything in the kitchen for a split second. The lightning strikes, not very far from us, and is followed almost instantly by the thunder, higher than I've ever heard it before. We're at the heart of the storm.

He has both my hands captured, and leans down to kiss me. It's not like his usual kisses – neither kind and loving nor passionate. This kiss is brutal, demanding, I'm barely able to breathe, my lips taste of blood when he finally tears away from my mouth.

Tears are streaming down my cheeks. "What are you doing, Peeta?" I say, and my voice is shaking. "What are you… What have they done to you?"

Because I know, deep down, that this isn't really him. They've done something to him. He looks like he did back in District 13, when he was at his worst. Only then he was under control, drugs and guards kept him and others safe.

Now there is no one here but me and him and the thunderstorm. What triggered him? I wonder, but I know better than to ask him. I've helped him through so many nightmares and flashbacks, I know which buttons to push. But this… This is something I've never seen before. "It's not real," I tell him, refusing to break eye contact. It's like staring in to the eyes of a wolf, ready for the kill.

I've never been more scared in my life.

"It's not real, Peeta. Whatever they told you… Whatever your brain is telling you… It's not real. It's not real!" I'm almost screaming it the last time, willing him to understand.

He just snarls. "They told me you'd say that," he answers. He rips my shirt off. "And they told me not to listen to you. Because you're a liar." He looks down at my breasts, heaving. "Take off your bra," he commands me. "I'm going to release your hands, and if you try to escape or fight me, I'll kill you."

I want to refuse, but I can't, my hands move on their own accord, almost helplessly, opening the clatch on my back, the bra falling to my floor. He looks at my bare breasts now, he's seen them a thousand times before, but never like this. His hands are back on my wrists now, then he descends on one of my breasts, biting, hard. I scream out in pain, but my scream is drowned in another crash of thunder. When he looks up, there is blood around his mouth. When he smiles, his teeth are red.

Hijacked. He's been hijacked again.

And I know, see it in his cold, wolf-like eyes, that he's telling the truth.

He will kill me.

"Take off your jeans," he orders me, and with shaking hands, I obey. As I do, he continues talking. "It's time. And he told me to tell you something."

"Who? What?" I ask, as only the occasional lightening lights up the kitchen. His eyes are nearly fluorescent in the dark.

"He told me to convey his greetings. It's been a long time. He hopes you'll enjoy this as much as he will."

Snow. It's Snow. Panic rushes through me, I scream, but there's no one to hear me. Only this… Monster standing in front of me. We're in the middle of the storm now, I've never seen a thunderstorm worse than this one in my life. He drags me down on the floor, forcing my head back with a hand in my hair, yanking. As he opens the zipper of his jeans, I think my heart stops, I want it to stop, but it doesn't. I've seen him do this so many times, but this time I find myself begging: "Please, Peeta… It's not real… Please, don't hurt me!"

But he just smiles that predator smile again. "Look at me," he orders, and I force myself to meet his wolfish eyes. With one forceful stroke, he enters me, and it's so painful I scream.

He's laughing.

Then his hands descend on my neck, closing around my throat. I fight him like a wild animal now, fighting for breath, I pound on him, try to scratch at his eyes, but he's too strong. Red clouds drift before my eyes, then it all goes black. The last thing I see, is his eyes, fluorescent.

When I come to, I'm lying on the floor of our kitchen. The thunderstorm has passed. It's raining hard outside the window. The backdoor is wide open, but no one is here but me. My whole body hurts, my head is spinning. I'm naked and bloody.

I throw up as I remember what happened.

I have to get out. He might come back.

I try to get up, but my legs won't carry me at first. I crawl on all fours until I'm able to get up with the help of the wall, then stumble outside, into the rain.

Haymitch. I have to get to Haymitch.

I pound on his door, scream his name. What if he's passed out, I distantly think, but then I see his face in the window, see how he runs, he opens the door, catches me as I fall. "God, Katniss, what happened?" he says, and all I can do is repeat:

"Peeta… It's Peeta… He's…"

Then everything is black again.

This chapter was really hard to write. I didn't want to write it, but then again I had to. Please review!