CHAPTER 2
BREAD
The eerie silence surrounding me makes me panic even further as I jolt awake. Sweat drip from my face and body, effectively soaking my shirt even with the cool night air from the open windows. I peer around my dark room and let my gaze settle on the luminescent light of the moon as I anxiously try to calm my rapidly beating heart.
It's just a dream. Just a dream, I repeat in my head over and over.
This has been what, the fourth time that I woke up in a span of five hours? The clock situated in my bedside table dimly shows that it's only 3 in the morning. Naturally, I can still take a few hours of sleep before my day has officially begun, but I am hesitant to go back to sleep. The nightmares keep on taunting me, and it's even worse that Katniss is alwaysthe star on each of them, varying from vivid images of her dying as the mutts ripped her body apart at the Cornucopia and to a more subtle but equally devastating dream where she's in the woods with Gale.
I lose her in every single dream, I think bitterly. Just like how it is in real life... no, not really. Because I didn't really lose her, in the technical sense of the word. She was never mine to begin with.
And I can't take it. Even through the pain of betrayal, I still find myself unable to even get mad at her. Disappointed, yes. But mad at her? Never. How can I be, when I know all along that I am nothing special; that I have nothing against Gale?
You were just a poor, clumsy boy that she had to save in the arena. Those things happened in there because you're weak - and she's so kind-hearted and unselfish that she even got out of her way to save your ass.
The tightness on my chest returned again as my thoughts took that path. I have been growing accustomed to this feeling, but I still find the sadness crushing me further down each time. It's even worse because now I have to live alone in this big new house.
I don't want to be alone, but there's nothing much that I can do. Surprisingly, it was my mother who insisted that they stay in the bakery. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I keep wondering if she really just don't want to leave the house and bakery unattended at night, or if she just doesn't want to stay here because she's not all too happy of my victory. That she doesn't think I deserve this, because really, what have I done in the arena other than to flirt with Katniss and let her do all the job of saving both of us?
It's funny how insecure I have become since learning about the awful truth.
"We should get going too, Peeta." My mother says.
"Oh, right." I answer, blinking out of the daze I fell in as I watch Katniss go. "Let's go inside, the air's getting a bit cold now." I start heading towards the front door of our new house.
"Peeta, we're going home." She insists.
My eyebrows scrunch together, the confusion settling in. "But this is your home, right?"
An uncomfortable silence passed between us as my brothers look everywhere but me, and I catch my parents exchange a guarded look. Finally, my father speaks up.
"We're not staying with you, son. We're staying in town at the bakery. The Capitol workers have brought your things in this new house, so everything's settled already."
I look at each one of them as the words register. "Why? I mean, you can stay here and we can still keep the bakery."
"I don't want to live here. It disgusts me to live with Seam people." Mother says disgustedly. I can't help but notice the way she said "Seam people", and the way that her lips curled to a sneer. I suddenly realize that she might be cross over that story I told in the arena about my dad and Katniss's mother.
"Cecil..." My dad warns.
"You can still come at the bakery to make yourself useful rather than to hang around all day with that Seam brat." Mother continues, unfazed by dad's cautious glare.
"Stop calling Katniss and her family that way." I say firmly. My mother looks surprised at my outburst; no doubt she has been expecting me to cower and stay quiet as I have done all my life. But not this time. I'm not going to let her poor judgement of the Everdeens pass, especially if it's affecting our family. "Katniss is a Victor, mom. Living in the Seam before this doesn't make her less of a person. "
She purses her lips in a tight line. Graham and Kale starts making those weird choking noises - something they do purposefully to make fun of me. My mother silences them with a glare before turning her attention to me. I can immediately sense an argument coming, but dad thankfully talks first.
"We just don't want to leave the bakery without anyone inside. Don't worry son, we'll visit you here often, and of course you're welcome to drop by at the bakery. We can have dinner together, every day."
"Besides, I think you need all the privacy you can get, Peet." Graham adds with a wink. Kale grins conspiratorially.
"If you don't want to stay here, then I'll stay with you at the bakery." I tell them firmly, ignoring my brothers' snide comments.
Dad clears his throat as another uncomfortable air hung over us. "Son, I don't think that's allowed. The Capitol requires all Victors to live here, that's the protocol."
Ah yes, the Capitol. The key to this new home suddenly feels a thousand times heavier as I remember mine and Katniss's dilemma. She mentioned Snow being pissed off with our attempt at suicide, thus creating the necessity of having to follow all orders and being obedient to all Capitol demands. Which means... if my family doesn't want to stay with me at the Victors' Village, then I have no other choice but to live alone.
What's the point of winning if I don't get to share it with anyone? I mentally kick myself again for thinking in the arena that Katniss could possibly want to have a life with me. The only people I have left now to share my victory with is my family, but even they don't want to be part of it. If only I just died there... Katniss wouldn't be troubled with any problem anymore.
I've never felt lonelier.
The anxiety continue to build inside me as I sit on the edge of my bed. I begin pacing awkwardly across the room, tousling my hair as I try to think of what to do. The room starts to feel suffocating so I walk hurriedly out of it, turning on lights in the hallway so I don't have to stumble around in the darkness. I still haven't grown used to my new leg, and I didn't want to take my chances and end up getting another injury. I walk mindlessly through the house and immediately find myself standing in the middle of the - my - kitchen, suddenly feeling overwhelmed at the mere sight of it. This is the first time I've been in it; when I got inside the house hours ago, I felt too drained to look around the house so I just went upstairs and got in the first bedroom I came across with.
This space is more than what I've dreamed my future kitchen will be like. The space is wide and open, furnished beautifully with marble counter tops, white cabinets, a humongous refrigerator, oven, and stove. I walk experimentally around, trying to get myself accustomed to the huge space and smiling lightly as I take it all in. I open the cabinets and find more treasures inside - stacks of plates, utensils, cooking materials, and other what-nots are neatly placed in their own spaces. The mayor wasn't even joking when he said that our new home is already equipped with food and other things we need - the refrigerator is filled with different kinds of fruits and food that I never really expected to have.
I sigh contentedly as I stand in the middle of the kitchen. The sadness weighing me down before comes back again as I think of how much dad would have loved this kitchen too. Perhaps I can make him change his mind when he sees this, I wonder. However, I shake the thought away immediately because I know that there's really nothing much I can do to change my mother's mind.
I begin opening the cabinets in a haste, stupidly wanting to avoid the sinking feeling in my chest. I start thinking what would have happened if I died in that arena. Would things have been better? Would Katniss be happier and more relaxed, my mother more satisfied? I move more quickly, grabbing ingredients and shoving them against the marble countertop as my mind conjures up the only answer I can give myself for that thought.
Yes. Yes, it's more likely that they'll be happier.
So why, then, am I still alive now? Why didn't I die in the Hunger Games as I was supposed to? Everything in life has a purpose; surely, the fact that I am still alive means that I am still needed in this world?
But until that time, I'd first have to learn how to survive each day with these unwanted thoughts in my head.
By the time I've finished baking, I have already explored the entire house and discovered that it has more rooms than I've ever imagined a house should have. It has a dining area, a spacious living room, four bedrooms (each with its own bathroom), a study room, laundry and stock room, a television room, and a comfort room downstairs. The sun has already risen as I arrange the freshly baked bread in the counter, instantly realizing that my troubled mind led me to make more than what I can eat. It's certain that I'll be baking another batch tomorrow and my family doesn't need one, so I'm left with only one choice: share some of it to my new neighbors.
Which means that I'll be seeing Katniss.
Or maybe you're really just trying to make a way to see her.
I hurriedly place one loaf of bread and one dozen cookies each to two separate paper bags before heading upstairs to take a shower. Much to my delight, the Capitol provided our new homes with the same luxuries that they have there. The shower did little to calm my nerves, so I leave it exasperatedly and resign myself to face the task at hand.
Be a man, Peeta. It's just Katniss.
I open what I assume to be the cabinet for my clothes - and to my surprise, discover that it's a small walk-in cabinet containing an assortment of all kinds of clothes. I skim my hand through the fabrics of each one, easily realizing that these pieces can only be Portia's work. I make a mental note to ask Effie for her number so that I can thank her properly; after all, it will still be a few months before I'll have the chance to see her personally again.
My momentary amusement at my most recent discovery disappeared just as quickly as it had come. I move downstairs at a leisurely pace, checking and double checking the contents of the package I was about to give and tasting the bread that I left for myself. Satisfied that it tastes decent enough, I finally hurry out of the front door so as to not lose my nerve or start having a panic attack.
I move in the direction of Haymitch's house first. The cool air from the night before is still present, and a light speck of orange still lingers in the horizon. I breathe deeply as I walk along the pavement, appreciating the beauty of my new surroundings. It's easy to fall in love with the village - with the thick greenery, the abundance of colorful flowers, and the large, evenly spaced houses. If only it were that easy to forget how I came here in the first place.
I stop in front of Haymitch's door and knock abruptly. There are no gates for all the twelve houses, only a spacious garden in front of each. I stand outside while trying to listen for any sound that may indicate that Haymitch is about to open the door, but none came.
"Haymitch?" I call out. Could he still be asleep?
Still nothing.
I try rapping on his door and saying his name loudly a few more times before I finally decide to try opening his door. As I have been under the impression that victors live a more cautious life after those life-threatening experiences in the arena, I stand in his unlocked door for a few seconds as the shock registered in before allowing myself to go inside, still calling out his name.
The sound of soft snores echoed across the hallway. I wrinkle my nose as the foul smell assaulted me, carefully wounding my way around the mess of empty alcohol bottles and dirty clothes on the floor. I've never thought of Haymitch to be this dirty, and I wonder if I should suggest to him that he must get a house cleaner. I shudder at the thought that this could easily be my future if I don't hold myself together. Did Haymitch get into a depressed state after he won for him to be this drunk and careless about his life?
There, lying on the floor beside one of the chairs in his dining room and two empty bottles, is Haymitch. I place the packages that I'm holding on the table before squatting beside his head to rouse him up.
"Haymitch!" I say loudly, tapping him the shoulder as I did so.
His eyes open abruptly at the sound and his arms blindingly sweep from his side towards me. The glint of the knife that he's holding and directing towards me registered to me a second too late, leaving me no time to back away at a safe distance. The tip of the knife grazed my left arm and left a long, bleeding gash.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" I say hurriedly, raising my hands up and backing away from his half-crouched body. "It's only me, Haymitch!"
He has now come fully to his senses; his eyes widening like saucers as he saw me half-sitting, half-standing in his dining area.
"What are you doing here, boy?" He says in a disgruntled voice. "You really shouldn't wake people up like that. Didn't you see the knife I was holding?"
"I was more focused on your state to really worry if you're armed or not." I mutter.
"Well you should have known that the moment you stepped in. Didn't you learn anything at all in the arena? It's Self Defense 101."
"Self Defense 101 should begin with a locked door." I argue. "That's exactly what I was thinking when I stepped in."
"Well now you know." Haymitch adds, leaning his weight in the chair to help him stand up. "Sorry about your arm."
"It's fine."
"What are you doing here anyway?"
"I came to bring you some bread. I baked some this morning, and I won't really be able to eat all of it, so I thought I'll share some with you." I am up on my feet now and clutch one of the packages toward him with my hand that's not yet covered with blood.
"Ah, yes. Bread boy."
I smirk, not at all surprised by Haymitch's lack of gratitude. I move towards the bathroom near the kitchen. "You don't mind if I use your bathroom to wash off the blood, do you?"
"Go on, go on..." He mutters absentmindedly. "And the other package is for Katniss, I guess?"
I stop on my tracks, suddenly aware of his gaze on my back. "Katniss... and Prim, and Mrs. Everdeen." I answer, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Tension's gone, then?"
"I wouldn't push my luck, Haymitch." I tell him sourly, grabbing the other package with my hand and striding out of the room, completely ignoring my still bleeding arm.
Haymitch merely laughs at my attitude, knowing that he has struck a nerve. "Things will get better, boy." He calls out after me. "She'll come to her senses, I know."
I rush out of Haymitch's house in a daze, resolving to never bake any excess from now on - whether accidentally or not - or, in the case that it happens again, to just bring the bread to the bakery. I find myself knocking outside the Everdeen's house faster than I'd imagined, leaving me no time to back out or to change my mind as I hear the footsteps inside.
"Who is it?" I hear Prim's voice say from the door.
"It's me, Prim. Peeta."
The door opened in an instant, Prim's petite body bounding out of it with a huge grin on her face. "Hi Peeta!" She says as she hugged me right on the spot.
"Oh, hi Prim." I answer meekly, surprise evident on my face at her pleasantness, ruffling her hair tenderly. Why can't Katniss be more like this? I think glumly.
"I was really hoping you'd come by. I can't wait to know more about you!" She chatters excitedly as she grabs my hand and pulls me inside their house with her. "Sit there. Katniss is still upstairs. I'll call her, hang on."
"Prim, no!" I say a bit too loudly, stopping her from dashing up the stairs to ask Katniss to go down. Her eyebrows raise in confusion, and I suddenly realize that Prim is still probably unaware of our situation. "Uh... I just don't want you to wake her up. I just dropped by to give you some bread, I can always come by later when she's up already."
Mercifully, Prim seems to accept my weak explanation as she comes right beside me with a sly grin on her face. "I really don't think she'll mind, you know."
"Yeah, I know. But... I do mind." I say feebly. "She needs all the rest she can get."
Prim seems to evaluate me for a moment. "You are too nice, you know."
Her words caught me up short, but luckily, Mrs. Everdeen arrives in the living room just then to spare me the trouble of thinking for a suitable reply.
"Hello Peeta," She says softly.
I fidget in my position, feeling myself turn red. "Good morning Mrs. Everdeen. I... I just came to bring you some bread."
Her face turns appreciatively at the package that I'm holding. "That's really nice of you, Peeta. I hope you didn't get into too much trouble just to bake for us."
"Oh no, not at all." I answer hurriedly. "I was baking earlier because I couldn't fall asleep, and I guess I didn't notice that I baked too much. My family wouldn't want it, so I decided to give some to you and Haymitch. I passed by his house before going here, actually.
Before Mrs. Everdeen had time to respond, Prim gasps audibly beside me. I look at her worriedly, then I realize that she's staring at my left arm.
"What happened to your arm, Peeta?"
I feel my face burning deeper as the two of them stare at it, waiting for my response. Prim, however, wasted no time and dragged me gently to the chair. Mrs. Everdeen turned away from the room.
"It's just a cut, Prim. I didn't notice that Haymitch was holding a knife when I came into his house earlier."
"Haymitch cut you?" I hear someone say. Someone that could be none other than Katniss herself. I groan internally - I didn't really want her to see or know that I got hurt, further emphasizing what sort of a loser I really am - when compared to Gale, that is.
"Oh, hi Katniss. No... it was an accident. I came to his house to give him the bread, and he wasn't answering and I found his front door unlocked so I came in. I found him sleeping on the floor of his kitchen, and when I tried to rouse him up, he was suddenly very alert and the next thing I know, I got cut by the knife that he's holding." Katniss and Prim's face register that of shock at my story. "I was crouched so close to him because I was tapping his shoulder, so I didn't have time to move away when he swung his arms towards me." I add defensively.
"Haymitch sleeps with a knife on his hand?"
"Apparently, yes."
Mrs. Everdeen comes back into the room, clutching what looks like a first aid kit in her hands. "You should be careful next time you rouse him up, Peeta. Or maybe it's better if you don't try to wake him up at all."
"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind."
Katniss hovers uneasily in the seat opposite me as Prim works over my cut while her mother supervises. I voice out my awe at her skill in healing; Katniss wasn't exaggerating about Prim's capabilities. Katniss mutters her assent at this, but otherwise, she stayed seated in her spot without so much as a glance at me. I do my best to avert my eyes from her as well, thus contributing to the rising tension in the air. It's only Prim's constant babble that seems to prevent things from exploding.
At this point in time, it seems like things will never get better anymore.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Hello guys! I am so so so sorry for taking too long to post this chapter. I've just been quite busy the past few month, but I promise to make it up to you and update as often as I did before.
Anyway, I hope you find this chapter interesting. Chapter 3 will be all about the festivities following their victory.
Please - read and review! I always like hearing (or rather, reading) what you have to say about my writing. Thank you so much!