A/N: Thank you so much elisemellark (it brakes my heart to tell you they won't…yet. It's just to early), DandelionOnFire(ha,ha, oh god, you made me laugh. I'm like that, too.), Amanda332czx (I guess I PM-ed(is that even a word?) you. If not, I'll do it and explain a bit), Kari (Wohoo! See, I told you you'll like it;)), Meg123 (:D thanks), HungerGamesLover1020 (here is chapter 8), RandomRandoms14, CharmChaser (Finally someone who thinks like that, too;)), Kate (Don't worry, I won't do it again), KatPee (believe it or not, that was the only thing that made me hesitate. But see it as not her real first kiss. She didn't feel anything), InLoveWithPeeta (here is the next), Aria-dancingdolphins15 (here is your update :D), Emmy (OMG! Thank you soooooo much! You have no idea how happy you made me! And about the languages. Well, I had to. But thank you!:D), musicalexpert and Kelly (Happy birthday! This chapter is my present!)
Thank you for reviewing!

And I was thinking about doing this chapter in Peeta's POV, because this way I could have done better with his way with words and his immense charisma. But I decided to stuck to Katniss POV, because I have a problem with writing in a boy's POV. Might be the fact that I don't understand guys. Anyway, I'm sorry if I didn't succeed in capturing his way with words perfectly.
Remember, it's not that easy if you don't have as much charisma as Peeta does. He's got an unusual amount of it (but he uses it in a good way, unlike other persons. Seriously, it's easy to misuse it).

And I'd like to say that this will be the same arena it is in CF, partly because I was too lazy to come up with something else, partly because I think even without Katniss, it would still have been the same arena. But the arena, or even the actual games aren't really important. This is more about what they think about the games and about the fear. Many people forget about this fear when it comes to a Katniss/Peeta romance.

Please see this as rated T!

Duh, this is a major A/N. Now just enjoy!

Disclaimer: All right, I think everyone knows I am not Suzanne Collins. So I obviously don't own the Hunger Games.

Chapter 8:

For the last week, I've completely ignored Gale. He did the same to me. I haven't even thought about our conversation anymore.

I forbid it. Myself, I mean. I don't want to think about it, I want to pretend it never happened. And I know it is childish, but what am I supposed to do? Gale has been my best friend for years, never more. And then, out of the blue, he kisses me.

What still confuses me is the fact that he dared to do that. What made him think I would kiss him back? Where my walls down that much? Or did he even think?

Knowing Gale, I suppose it's the latter. First doing, than thinking. That thought helps, because maybe he doesn't really have feeling for me. Maybe he just overacted.

Yes, that has to be it. Why didn't I think of it earlier? He overacted. That kiss meant nothing.

But why do I not believe myself?

A knock on the door interrupts my thoughts. Right.

Today, the Games will start. The knock is Peeta, who was invited by Prim. He's here to watch the Games with us. So he doesn't have to do it alone.

I still don't get it why his brothers and parents don't watch it with him. At least his father always seemed like a decent person.

Not very talkative, but I can't blame him. I am not, either. But he always seemed to care about his children.

I consider asking Peeta, but I don't want to remind him. I wouldn't want to be reminded and though Peeta and I are as different as two persons can be, I don't think he would want to think about his uncaring family too much.

I hear the door open. Prim must have opened it.

I go to the living room and standing in the doorframe is Peeta, hugging Prim. I see a smile on his face and it's obvious how happy Prim is.

I glance at my mother, suddenly remembering what Peeta told me about her and his father. She watches the two, actually smiling a bit.

I sigh. Good. I have to admit, I was a bit curious about what she would do. After all, it's quite obvious Peeta is related to his father. They look alike.

Of course, Peeta is younger. His features are rounder, his smile more carefree and I can't deny he is handsome. With his broad shoulders and his bright ear-to-ear smile, his blond curls and his shining blue eyes, that light up every time he is happy.

His father must have looked like this when he was younger. Even if he doesn't have Peeta's eyes. I don't know where they come from, because his mother doesn't have them, either. None of his brothers. So where do they come from?

I shake my head. That's not important anyway. I shouldn't be standing here, wondering about Peeta's eyes.

I smile at him: "Hey." He returns my greeting and introduces himself to my mother. Right after that the screen of our television shows the sign of the Capitol and the anthem plays.

Peeta sighs. "It starts. We should start watching now. The peacekeepers will come by soon, making sure we are watching."

He's right. But my mother hesitates: "Do we really have to? It's the Quarter Quell. I…I don't want to."

Oh no, I think. She's like that, sometimes. This is the state where she transformes into an overaged child, where I have to tell her what to do. It's the state she was in a year after my father died, when we had food again but she depended completely on me. She wasn't too much in depression anymore, just scarred and trying to suppress reality.

I am about to give her an annoyed answer when Peeta says something. I didn't expect him to do that: "But you have to. We all don't want it. But what are we supposed to do?"

My mother looked at him. "Why?" That's not an answer to his question. And seeing her expression, I can tell it's not really meant as an answer. She looks like she's remembering something. And I don't know this something. What is it about? My father?

Peeta seems to try to understand her, too. But how is he supposed to do that? She is my mother. If even I can't understand her… I'm her daughter, after all. But then again, we aren't really that close…

"They will come and kill us if we don't. And you know it. What happened? What is making you hesitate?"

Yeah, that's an idea. Asking her. But I would have never thought of it. It's not like that with my mother and me. We don't talk. She didn't take care of me after my father died, so why should I do more for her than necessary, when she didn't even do that?

And surprisingly, my mother answers: "It's the Quarter Quell. Again. And it brings back…memories." She doesn't say what memories. But I was right. Though now I don't think it had anything to do with my father. But after saying that, she actually moves to sit in front of the TV on the couch, next to Prim.

Prim grabs her hand and mother holds hers just as tightly. I know how they feel. I feel the same, but I'd never show it. To them, I'm always the strong Katniss, suppressing every fear. Well, they don't know about my fear, so actually it's only me expecting it to be suppressed.
And I make sure it is. I can't let them worry about me. They're my family, I have to protect them in every possible way.

When I look at Peeta now, it once again occurs to me that his parents and siblings obviously don't think so. He has never experienced this feeling of a family holding together, facing the horror of the games together. And I've seen how much he and Prim stick together. They're alike, he is like the older brother she never had.

And my thoughts are confirmed when Prim pats the space nest to her, motioning for him to sit there. But Peeta hesitates. "Katniss should sit there."

That takes me by surprise. I never think like that. Prim and mother have to be comfortable. I don't want to be selfish, especially when it comes to the Hunger-Games-time. It's the time where my family is even more important to me than it always is. Maybe because the Games rip other families apart. Maybe because they need more care now, now that the horror starts again.

"No, it's okay", I say. "Yes! I can sit on her lap!", Prim adds. She would have done that, anyway. She gives Peeta her little cute smile, begging him to just do it.

Sighing, he obeys. I go over, too and Prim climbs onto my lap. Just then, the anthem ends and Caesar Flickermann, this year in a light blue, appears on the Screen. Yesterday were the Interviews with him. Our tributes did okay, but they weren't to impressive. No one sticks in their head for longer than one year either way.

They show every single picture of the tributes and their interviews, show what images they have. The one from two, the one I remember from the reaping, is called the sexy killer.

That are the names the career districts get. We always get something like the coal's rose. I suppose that isn't too bad, but if I had to sponsor one of them, I would never sponsor a flower. Because the games aren't about how cute, how kind a person is, it's about killing.

"They use the human weakness". I wonder what Peeta means. He must see our question looks, because he continues: "The human mind would always watch out for itself. For its body. This is what they use in the games. The refuse to die. Fear. That's what they use. And under those circumstances, the human being does everything to survive. Even if it is killing something that is exactly like they are. It's unbelievable what we are able to do to simply survive."

Normally, I would have covered Prim's ears when I heard such words. But I can't. I can't concentrate on anything but his words.

I've never seen it like that. But he's right. This is how the games work. And there is nobody trying to fight this. I've never seen anyone trying to sacrifice themselves for someone else. That doesn't happen.

My eyes and mind return to the screen, where now twenty-four tributes are on their plates, placed around the Cornucopia. The Cornucopia is in the middle. And there are those strips of land, all of them connected with the sand the Cornucopia is standing on. Twelve strips. What does that mean?

But I don't have much time to think about it, before the gong rings. Unlike other years, there are only a few that make their way to the Cornucopia,. There are only a few that know how to swim.

The four tributes, obviously the best swimmers, are on the Cornucopia in a matter of seconds. But they don't kill each other. I suppose they're allies. Of course. Careers.

Soon, they are joined by the tributes of district one and four.

Claudius Themplesmith's voice, only audible for the people sitting in front of the TV, asks if they don't know they have swim belts. I watch one tribute from three, the one they are zooming to now. He's got an pruple belt around his hips. And seconds after I've seen that, he jumps into the water.

And Claudius was right. He doesn't drown, he just moves and somehow manages to swim.

I bet the people in the Capitol are happy now. It would have been boring if the tributes had died of…what? Dehydration? A silly death. Silly and not at all bloody.

But now, I feel how Prim snuggles closer to me. Because the smart boy of district three, the one that figured the belts out, is the one going to be killed first.

I see how all the other tributes watch him, how they, one after the other, realize what those belts are for. Then they jump into the water, too. And with that, hell is breaking loose.

I bury Prim's face in my shirt and clutch the thing closest to me, which appears to be Peeta's hand. He doesn't even look up, just grabs it as tightly.

It reminds me of the reaping. Where he took my hand. And just like then, I am relieved. Maybe because it reminds me of the reaping. Maybe because it reminds my of feeling as though I'm not alone in this.

And I realize, I am not. I have Prim, whose eyes I'm protecting, but her ears are able to hear.

My mother, whose eyes are glued to the screen, but it seems as if she is looking right through it. Like her mind is somewhere else. So in some way, she's protected, too. In her own world, protecting herself from it with a memory.

And Peeta. But somehow, he isn't really protected. It's more like he is…protecting me. Protecting me. No one has protected me since my father died. I was always the one to protect everyone. And it feels strange. I'm actually scared.

But then I feel how he squeezes my hand when the district three boy is killed by one of the careers. And I don't think about being scared anymore. Actually, I think about hate.

Not for Peeta, of course. For the Capitol. It killed this smart boy, a boy who had done nothing wrong. His only mistake was to be the first not-career at the Cornucopia. This shouldn't be happening right now. This boy should be sitting in a room with his family and laugh.

Instead, a sharp sword makes its way through his body. No cannon shoots. But he is dead though.

The camera zooms to another scene. Two tributes are fighting. Suddenly, I hear a voice: "Don't watch! Turn away!"

The voice, Peeta's, is so dominant, that I don't even hesitate. I pry my eyes away from the horrible scene of a girl and a boy fighting for a loaf of bread, one with a knife, the other one with her bare hands. Trying to suffocate him.

And then, all I see is Prim's blond hair. I don't want to see anything else. Not the blood that colors the water. Not the dead bodies on the ground.

Not everything the Capitol destroyed, killed and tortured. How can anyone find that amusing? How can anyone stand watching other people die? People who had a life. Someone at home, waiting for them.

I remember Peeta's words: "It's unbelievable what we are able to do to simply survive."Yes, even President Snow does this to survive. We all know how the Hunger Games were created. Because the Capitol doesn't want a rebellion. Because they want to survive. As foreign as it sounds.

Though I can't see the screen, I can hear the cries and the begging. And I hear how Prim starts sobbing.

Prim. It isn't right that she has to watch this. That she is entered in the reaping ball. What if she got reaped? I shudder at that thought. I don't want to even imagine it. I pull Prim closer.

But her sobs continue, no matter how much shushing I try.

Then I feel hoe Peeta lets go of my hand and how two strong, warm, comforting arms encircle us. I see how a second hand starts stroking Prim's hair and her back.

How long has it been since someone held me? That someone helped me to calm Prim when she was watching the games? Too long to remember.

But I remember those arms. They held me once, for a few seconds. Back then, it was out of happiness and relief. Now it's fear.

Prim is now clinging to my neck with one arm and to Peeta's with the other one. So she presses us together, too. Suddenly I blush, remembering Gale. How he was upset about our hug. How he said I didn't want anything romantic with him and implied I did with Peeta. But I don't.

So I shift a bit, so Prim can still hug both of us but we aren't pressed against each other. His arm is still around me, but I can't change that at the moment. And, okay, I don't really want to.

Somehow, I don't mind being protected, at least a bit, as much as before now. I really don't want to watch the games.

After a while, I hear a knock on the door. I look up. Prim does, too. And Peeta's eyes are still fixed on the bloodbath, which seems to be almost finished. There are the careers, fighting the boy from ten, I guess. Or that what is left of him. After a few seconds, his body goes down.

Standing there, are the six careers and the girl from nine. I knew she was going to join them.

Then I pay my attention to the door and to the two Peacekeeper coming into our living room. "Oh, you're watching the games! Good! Otherwise, we'd have to do something not so pretty now. But were you paying attention?"

That's what they always do. Everyone who isn't at the square to watch the games, has to watch them at home. And then they come to see if you are really watching and ask you some questions. Just like:

"Who was the first one to die?"

Well, I know this one. And before they can ask me something I don't know, I answer: "The boy from three." The peacekeeper nods. I'm relieved, though I knew it was the right answer. It's just…what would they do to me if it weren't?

Then she motions to Prim. Oh. Prim hasn't seen to much. Please, oh please let it be something she does know. "What are the belts for?"

I let out a breath. She should know that. Themlesmith said it and she was watching while he did. "They are swimming belts."

Her voice sounds frightened, so frightened I hold her a bit tighter. But the peacekeeper nods again. "Seems you were really watching."

And with that, she closes the door and makes her way to the next house.

We all let out a breath. We wouldn't have been the first ones to be punished. It doesn't happen often, because everyone is scared of it. But sometimes, someone who has already lost everything or someone who just wasn't careful enough, gets arrested and killed.

I shudder at that thought. If that happened to anyone I know…I don't really want to imagine it.

Peeta must have felt me shudder, because he squeezes my arm reassuringly. I'm not sure what to make of it. I mean, he does the same with Prim.

I shouldn't be worried about Peeta because of something Gale said. He was just jealous. That even fits to my earlier idea of Gale overacting. He just didn't want to share me with anyone.

Yes, that has to be it. It has to. So why do I not believe it?

Shaking my head, I turn my attention back to the TV.

Much doesn't happen anymore. The day ends not like usually, with the anthem and the pictures of the dead tributes. At least not for the tributes.

We are shown who died today. Every death is replayed. I tell Prim not to watch again. She gladly obeys. I don't watch them, either. I mean, the daily control Peacekeeper has already been here.

But I notice how Peeta is still watching, seemingly unable to pry his eyes away. I don't say anything, because I don't think he would hear me anyway. Instead I talk to Prim a little. Not about the games. I would never talk about them with Prim. Only unimportant things like school.

After every death has been replayed, the anthem plays again, the seal of the Capitol is shown and the screen goes black.

My mother immediately excuses herself to bed and Prim yawns, bids Peeta goodbye and follows her.

I cough, a bit uncomfortable, because his arm is still around me, though he let Prim go. When he notices, he blushes. He must have forgotten it.

"Sorry", he mumbles and gets up. "Doesn't matter" is my reply. I get up, too and follow him to the door.

"Was it better?" I ask and because I can see the confusion on his face, I add, "To watch the games with us?"

He smiles. "Yes it was. A lot better, actually."

But most of the time, he was the only one watching. Prim never does it, I don't want her to. Usually, I'm the one watching the horrors. Not today. "I'm sorry. For not watching all the time, I mean."

"Why? I told you not to do it. I always have to watch them anyway, remember?" No. I forgot. He's right, of course. When there is no one else that watches, he has to.

"But I do it, too. It…it would have been okay." Now, that's a lie. I hate watching the games and I was glad I didn't have to watch the bloodbath.

"Yeah. But you also have to provide your family. I…I thought maybe I could take a bit burden off you that way."

I'm taken aback. No one treats me like that. No one tries to make it easier for me. No one treats me like that. No one tries to make it easier for me. It's always me that does that. It's an entirely new feeling. Being…taken care of. Somehow. But…

"Why?" There is no reason. I'm not used to it.

He hesitates. "Because you deserve it. You do something I couldn't do. You take care of them."

Whatever I expected, not that. And I don't even think it's true. Not that he doesn't think so.

But I think he would be able to take care of his family. Though they're not a family like we are, I can't imagine a person, kind and good-hearted like Peeta not wanting to provide his family if he needed to.

And I think if Peeta really wanted to, he would find a way.

"Yes, I do. But you could do it, too."

"No. I'm not like you." Is his answer. Sometimes, I think he underestimates himself.

"No. You aren't. But do you have to be like me to be strong enough to help your family?" He sighs. He can't disagree now.

"Katniss you don't understand." What? What do I not understand?

"What are you talking about?" He only shakes his head. That makes me frustrated. What is this thing he won't tell me? And why?

"Maybe, at some point, you will understand. But not now." It seems final. I groan. I really want to know but…he doesn't seem like he wants to tell me. He is and will remain a mystery. I wonder if I will ever be able to understand him.

But there is something else I wondered about this evening. If I don't get one answer, maybe I'll get the other.

"Why were you watching the recaps of the deaths? You had already seen them." It still doesn't make sense to me. I don't think he enjoyed watching those children die. I've heard him talk about the games. He despises them, I can tell.

"Because…I don't really know how to explain it. It's just…I want to remember every death. To others, this may seem like something that only hurts. But…I don't know. It's just…I can't help but think that every children had a life, a family and friends. They deserved to live and the Capitol took everything away. They die for nothing. And I don't want to forget. They make me think something has to be done. They give me the will to do something good."

To do something good. Like giving me that bread. Like comforting Prim. I understand that part.

But his point of view is complicated. What he does is…not really illegal, but the thinking it leads to is. This almost rebellious thinking.

"No, it won't. But in every of those children must have been something good. And…I don't want the world to loose that."

That seems like magic. Bring the good in every person back by doing something good. It sounds naïve. "That sound like a wish. A dream that can't come true. You aren't enough to bring the goodness back into the world."

He seems to think about that. Finally, he smiles. "I'm not the only person. Prim does it, too. And many other people, even if unknowingly. You may say I'm a dreamer. But I'm not the only one."

He then bids me goodbye and leaves.

You may say I'm a dreamer. But I'm not the only one. I hope some day, you'll join us and the world will be as one! ~Imagine by John Lennon! I don't own it, but I just LOVE that song!

Anyway, what do you think?

To complicicated? Sometimes I'm not quite sure if everyone was able to follow Peeta's and Katniss' (well, my) thoughts about the Hunger Games. I know the Games, or more how they think about them, are very much in this chapter, but think about it. This is Katniss POV. It's about what is important to her. And the Games are a big, horrible part of Panem. I guess I already said it, but I want you to understand why they are described like this. I want to show it's cruelty a bit. I won't do it too much, since this isn't really about the games, but the games ARE indeed the reason Katniss doesn't want love. She has to be reminded a bit. And it isn't as though there weren't a few cute scenes in this chapter, too;)

You should tell me what you think! You should REVIEW! Because I see how many people are out there, reading this. How about all of you just click that pretty little button, the one that says REVIEW!