"Peeta!" I would scream into the lonely morning air when I was finally brought back to reality. Since the morning that Haymitch came over for a "friendly visit" and I had discovered those tapes, nightmares about Peeta were becoming more popular.

Sometimes I dreamt of Peeta suffering another flashback and it was like I could almost feel his fingers enclosing around my neck. Often times when I would travel into the bathroom to take a shower, I would search in the mirror for bruises in the shape of his long fingers. I would never find any.

Other times, my nightmares were filled with memories of the Games. Memories that my deepest fears would attack; distorting and construing them into alternate endings that frightened me.

Once, before bolting upright in bed, I was returning to the cave that Peeta and I had shared after I had gone down to the cornucopia to retrieve the medication for his leg. But as I approached the cave, struggling to see it through the blood trickling down my temple and the dim moonlight, I realized that the rocks had fallen, caved in. Crushed Peeta.

In another nightmare, Peeta and I were standing at the edge of the lake with the nightlock berries clutched between our fingers. "One," I had said. "Two," Peeta continued. "Thr-" And then the voice that we had been so desperate to hear cut me off. I was ecstatic with the thought that we were both going home, together. I turned to face Peeta with a wide smile and met his frightened eyes. His face had lost all color. "What is it, Peeta?" I had asked, concerned. He said nothing, simply lifting his empty hand for my eyes to see. It was then that I noticed the purple juice that slid down the corner of his bottom lip. He had eaten the berries.

I wondered if this was what it was like for Peeta. My nightmares messed with my memories and the venom tampered with his.

Lately, Peeta has been progressing well with his recovery though. At least, as far as I can tell. He still calls Dr. Aurelius in the evenings, something that I haven't done in weeks. I had a feeling that I wouldn't be able to avoid his calls much longer though. At some point, I would have to pick up the receiver and listen to his latest advice. But I'm afraid that if I talk to him now, I might call him nasty things for sending me those tapes.

Those tapes. Since I opened the box, I hadn't touched them until one night, I didn't even want them in my house. Afraid that they might find their way back into my life. My nightmares. Well, I suppose I was a little too late in disposing of them.

Now, they sit on top of the toolbox in the shed, collecting dust. I still haven't told Peeta about them and I don't plan to in the near future. I know that he would want to follow Dr. Aurelius' prescription, thinking that it might help, just as that foolish alcoholic next door believes. But Peeta isn't ready.

I'm not ready. Maybe that's what's holding me back. I don't want to watch my nightmares on a screen while I'm awake. I already live them in my sleep. The day is my escape.

It's my time to escape with Peeta. He still comes around, although the time we spend together is more carefully planned and even has a curfew. After about a week of reviewing paintings and walking up and down the short stripped road of Victor's Village, we decided that we needed something else to do.

I began allowing him to tag along with me when I would go into the woods. Sometimes we would spend only a few minutes, listening to the birds chirp and the frogs croak near the stream. Other times, we would sit for hours. Just sit. Peeta still asked me when he wondered if something was real but that game had slowly died down after our awkward quizzing with the paintings. He knew that it had made me uncomfortable.

Today, however, he had asked me to take a walk into town with him, instead of going into the woods. He explained to me that he wanted to remember what it was like before the bombing. So, even though it might dig up things that I wasn't yet ready to confront, I agreed to accompany him.

Walking through my house this morning was different. Once I was washed up, dressed, and ready, I headed downstairs to an empty kitchen. I had told Sae to take the day off, insisted that I could certainly fend for myself for a day. She huffed and said, "Good, maybe I'll take to cleaning up Mr. Abernathy's place. I can't stand the stench any longer," And with that, she had been out the door and crunching along to Haymitch's house.

I raised my fist to Peeta's door and gave it three small taps. He was there and joining me out on the porch in no time. We began with our daily greeting of, "Good morning, Peeta. How did you sleep?" He would nod and answer, "Fine, thanks. And you?" Although today, his voice seemed more strained.

I could feel his blue eyes watching me as I answered my automatic, "Fine." He suddenly stopped walking. I turned around. "What?"

"I wish you would just tell me." He said.

"Tell you what?"

"It's okay to talk about things that are bugging you, Katniss. I do it all the time," Peeta was always scolding himself for sitting down with me and gushing what was on his mind. He would complain, claiming that it had taken up all our time together. But I didn't mind it at all.

"Nothing's bugging me." I responded immediately.

He lowered his eyes to the ground, as if considering whether or not he should say something. Finally, he admitted, "I can hear you, Katniss. All the way from my place. I keep my windows open at night."

I realized then that he was talking about my screaming in the mornings. I flushed red, knowing that it was his name that I yelled and wondered what that meant to him. I didn't want him to think that I was afraid of him.

I recovered quickly and started walking towards town again. "They're just nightmares, Peeta. You know what that's like."

He was catching up behind me. "I do know what that's like. But that doesn't mean you have to keep them to yourself."

Yes I did. These ones I had to keep to myself. If I told him what they were about and how horrible it was to wake up alone in the mornings to deal with them, he would feel guilty. He would beat himself up for not being there.

"Are they really that bad?" He was whispering now. I hadn't noticed that I'd stopped walking.

"Sometimes," I allowed.

He didn't pry anymore after that. He just began walking, weaving around remains of buildings, over fallen trees or large piles of ashes. Every once in a while, he would ask me a question, pointing in a direction to confirm that it was where that place was located. We were nearing his family's old bakery when I suggested we head towards the Seam, in fear that it might be too much for Peeta to handle.

We had woven around the Hob and taken a moment to stop by the Undersee home where I pushed back a stab of pain at the thought that Madge was buried somewhere in those ashes. Or even part of the ashes herself.

Tears stung my eyes when we reached my old home. The house that I shared memories long gone with my father and mother and Prim. I even missed that ugly old goat.

I had to avert my eyes when it became too much. Peeta didn't say anything, didn't ask any questions. He simply grabbed my hand, a gesture that he hadn't offered in such a long time, and pulled me along.

I didn't look up again until some short time later when Peeta stopped. I looked up and recognized the small corner where Gale's house once sat. It was silent and eerie.

Peeta just watched me as I stared into the ashes and planks of charred wood that hadn't been completely burnt through. After what seemed like a long while, he looked up and spoke in a whisper.

"You loved him, real or not real?" In his voice, I could hear defeat. It didn't sound like a question at all. It was sullen, like he already knew the answer and just wanted it confirmed. I turned to look at him, hoping his eyes would tell me what he was thinking. But he kept them away and down, not willing to look at me when I answered.

I stared at Peeta for a moment, trying to read him. He was obviously bothered, but why? Why did this boy in front of me make it seem like it would be the end of the world if from my lips came the word, "Real" and I admitted to loving Gale? The Capitol had erased all feelings that he had for me, layered them in hatred, lies, and pain. I hoped like no other that he would just turn towards me so that I could see his eyes. Those blue eyes gave so much away. I then realized that he may have been taking my prolonged silence as a confirmation to part of his false belief.

"Not real, Peeta." I whispered back, watching him intently as he finally began to turn in my direction. His eyebrows were pulled together as if he was confused.

"Katniss, I didn't ask you that for you to jump up and deny it just to make me feel better." He informed, allowing his entire body to turn in my direction now. "I want a real answer. It doesn't-"

"Peeta," My hand had worked on its own to reach up and cover his mouth. "I gave you a real answer. I don't love him, Peeta. I never have. Gale and I, we were never meant to be anything more than friends. Gale was somebody that I could rely on to have my back in the woods, help me track the game. Bring food home to my family when I couldn't. And he knew that he could rely on me for the same. The Capitol couldn't have been more right when they assumed that we were cousins."

At first, I wondered why I had just wasted my breath in explaining my relationship with Gale because Peeta stared at me blankly, as if my words were just floating in the air around him like the ashes. Then he closed his eyes.

"Peeta?" I questioned hesitantly. He didn't move a muscle and suddenly, I found myself worrying that I had sent him into another flashback. "Peeta, open your eyes." I demanded.

At first, he didn't do as I had asked. Then, gradually, his eyelids flitted open. He gazed into my own. Blue on gray. A small grin was forming on his lips.

"That's all I needed to hear," He reached out and took my hand in his and, without another word, he continued walking down the length of the black road, our feet crunching over our memories and our past.