Hours pass. Peeta gets no sleep. His mind is running at a thousand miles per hour; just thinking. He replays the day through his mind countless amounts of times and he still doesn't believe the smallest bit of it.

Today is, well yesterday was, the first Panem Panther volleyball game and after said volleyball game, Peeta had gathered the courage to attempt a conversation with the girl he has had the biggest crush on for a picture in which he had the biggest smile. Following the match, Peeta and Katniss had began to text each other and agreed to meet at the neighbor hood lake. At the lake they slipped and became soaked with water and made their way back to her house freezing and shivering with cold. But she snuck him up to her room and gave him fresh clothes so he wouldn't have to shiver and shake. But she left to get him something to drink to warm his bones and got caught. Peeta cringed at the thought. She comes back with a bloodied arm and ushers him out the window to save him from her psychotic mother. When he climbed back up, things had been torn, things had been stabbed and cut up, and the room was trashed. Peeta's eyes found Katniss on the floor holding her blood sodden arm and her rushed over to help her. Now, they lay in her cut up bed as a result of him. His presence.

He now knew it was his fault she suffered from her carved arm. If he hadn't suggested they go out to the lake to talk, she would have never had to sneak him up to her room. And he asks himself why he didn't refuse her offer of going back to her house to clean up. Because I was selfish. Peeta thought in his head. Her pain was all his fault and he hated himself for it. He knew he would never deserve her. Because how could she ever forgive him for doing this.

Then it clicked in his head. He had been so consumed in the action of making sure Katniss was healing and quietly asleep that he somehow forgot to think about how she had gotten the injuries. He looks down on her arm on which the letters were cut into her soft, olive toned skin.

filth.

Five letters that now make his blood boil hotter than a boiling pot of water. How could someone even think of their own flesh and blood as such? How could anyone think anything less than beautiful when they look at Katniss Everdeen. To him, she is the sun and the moon. She is any light in any environment. He wants for her to feel nothing but happiness and he does not ever want her to feel like she isn't worth something. Because ever since he had laid eyes on her in first grade, she has meant everything to him.

Now, she sleeps soundly under the blankets, not a worry on her beautiful face.

And he knows that he doesn't want anything to happen to her ever again.

Later that morning, Katniss wakes up to a hand holding hers not tightly, but firmly. She lets her eye wander up to the strong, tanned arm and to the face of Peeta Mellark. His eyes are closed and he looks so peaceful. She knows he was awake next to her for many hours, because even if he thought she was asleep, she didn't feel like she could explain what happened without saying things that could get her killed.

Manuvering herself onto her back, she keeps her hand clasped in his. She didn't want to wake him. There's no telling what time he went to bed that night and knowing that today was Saturday, she wanted him to sleep as long as he wanted. As long as he needed. Now, she lays there and admires the boy who patched her up last night and stayed to keep away the nightmares.

'How can I repay him for this?' She asked herself. This wasn't the first time Peeta Mellark had helped her in a way that mattered the most to her.

Before she can think anymore, she feels him stir next to her.

His vision is blurry when he wakes from his sleep. Slowly, he registers the mass of warmth next to his own and tightens his hand on the smaller one in his palm. Still remaining on top of the cotton blanket he had carefully placed over the girl beside him, he glanced down at her expecting to see her sleeping form but only finds steel silver eyes starring right back at him.

He then froze. Peeta expected to see angry, dark irises glaring daggers back at him but he only sees fear and hurt and sadness and embarrassment. He doesn't know how long the silence between them is, he only knows that even through the sadness, fear, embarrassment, and hurt he sees relief.

Finally, one of them takes the step to speak. "You stayed?" The girl with the braid asked barely above a whisper. Her voice quavered slightly and she scrunched her body up into an, if possible, small ball of her thin limbs and small torso. He's never noticed how slightly thinning she was. How almost fragile her frame seems. And he knows its how she carries herself. When she's on her court, she knows exactly what to do and when to do it. She strides with confidence and with purpose because volleyball is important to her.

Peeta then squeezes her hand ever so slightly tighter and nods. "I couldn't leave." He whispered in the quiet, still room.

And she joins the quietness of the room. Even her breathing is less audible. It's as she's thinking and contemplating what she wants, or should say. Patiently, he waits and waits. He doesn't mind the absence of noise and it looks like she doesn't either. Until her lips part and she speaks once more.

"Why?"

It's one , simple word and he wants to tell her more than he knows he should. He's actually surprised she let him stay and did not freak out when she woke this morning. So he thinks about his answer carefully and thoughtfully, taking his time to choose the right words.

"You scared me." He says softly. "I didn't want anything to happen to you." Now he gulps a little. "What if she had come back? What if you were defenseless against her because of me?"

His confession confused Katniss. Hadn't the only just taken a picture hours ago? And hadn't they talked for the first time the night prior? She noticed that the only part of him touching her was his hand clasping hers. He had respected her enough to only hold her hand in his when he could have done something much more physical. But he didn't. Why was he being so... sweet? They've lived across from each other for as long as she can remember and the first time she talks with him is at the age of sixteen.

She looks down, breaking eye contact with ocean blue orbs. "This wasn't your fault. This is my fault. I know that any punishment inflicted on me is...my fault." She mumbled.

The blonde starred down at the girl next to with her head bowed with a shocked and questioning look on his face. This isn't the first time something like this has happened to her. Over the years, he has seen her with strange bruises and odd injuries and he has always wanted to know why and how she got them. But now, he wishes he didn't know. How could she think her mother's carving on her are is her fault? Why would she think any of this was her fault?

"Katniss," He addressed her. "None of this is your fault. It's hers. And mine."

Slowly Katniss' eye meet his once more. "But I-"

"I said let's meet at the lake. I said 'yes' to coming back to your house." He explained. "Don't you dare blame this on yourself. You're not at fault."

Through this entire conversation, their hands stayed clasped together, firmly locked in place.

"Why are you being so nice to me, Peeta?" She whispered as she looks down once more. "We... We've never talked once before last evening. So, why now?"

Once more, silence over takes the duo as Peeta chooses his words inside his head.

"Katniss," He brings his hand to lightly cup her cheep but she gasps quietly and pulls away quickly, letting his hand fall to the mattress. "please don't push me away." He pleaded. "Look at me?"

She doesn't move for a little but her head lifts up so blue and grey can meet once more.

Taking a deep breath, Peeta sighed. "Don't you know the affect you have on people?" He asked softly.

She now eyes him, confused.

So he gently and slowly takes her other hand in his empty one. "You have no idea how much I solely have wanted to have the smallest conversation with you. My, uh, my dad pointed you out to me in kindergarten and said he wanted to marry your mother. And I, thinking why would someone not want to marry my dad, asked why she didn't. He said she fell in love with a hunter and they ran off to get married."

Katniss didn't know until she felt his light breathing on her nose that she had scooted closer to Peeta, completely captive by simply his company. Her body instinctively told her to pull away, but her mind told her he was safe. Her mind said to her that he would never hurt her like the rest.

"R...Really?" She inquired softly, the word barely escaping her nearly closed lips.

A small grin grazed his lips as he nodded and he shifted nervously on the mattress but made sure he didn't come any closer.

Silence over took the room, but neither of them felt awkward. It was more of them both feeling nervous. Well, him feeling nervous and still a little angry while she felt embarrassed and hungry. Seconds later her stomach growled just to prove her hunger, her stomach growls loudly in the still room.

"Do you, um, want me to fix you something to eat?" he asked her shyly.

She looks up at him with an eyebrow quirked. "You can cook?"

Chuckling, he nods. "Uh, yeah. We own over a thousand bakeries across the country. I grew up learning how to cook."

"Oh," She breathes. "That sounds nice...but we," Her stomach growls loudly again and she blushes, embarrassed. "Sorry." Katniss whispered timidly. "But she's probably not willing to feed me after last night."

Peeta is having a hard time processing what Katniss is saying. 'Not willing to feed her'? What hell does that imply? But now Katniss's small frame makes sense. Now, her thin torso plays into the puzzle correctly. She doesn't get fed enough. But how can her hits in volleyball be so strong and powerful? He quickly thinks this over before it hit him. She must be angry. Who wouldn't be angry if they lived in a house with that... well what ever Katniss' mother is.

This infuriates Peeta. Someone with money to spare will not even feed their own flesh and blood. Instead, the girl he cares for is starving. She is so thin and frail. But none of it is her fault. What does her father do about this? How can he stand by and watch as his wife tortures and abuses their only child? Or does he torment her as well? Does her beat her and starve her like her mother? Questions race through his head at rapid pace. But soon he is brought back to the reality.

"Katniss, you need to eat something." He urges.

And she knows he's right, though she doesn't want to admit it.