A huge thank you to my betas NotAnIslander and HPFanonezillion for their help!

I'm not even sure how I made it home. I can vaguely remember vomiting up the entire five-course wedding dinner right into those bushes where Katniss walked away from me. I must've stumbled my way back up the hill to the coffee shop, because I know there was absolutely no way I was going to be able to face anyone back at the wedding after what happened.

I fumble with my key in the lock, finally bursting into the apartment and ripping the stupid shiny shoes off my feet, throwing them across the room as I sink down onto my futon with my head in my hands and my eyes squeezed shut against the tears threatening to leak out. Clenching my jaw, I try and take deep breaths but only manage to choke, intensifying the gnawing ache in my hollow chest.

I'm never gonna love anyone ever again. I'm gonna be alone for the rest of my life. I'm gonna graduate from school and just stay here, working in this little coffee shop and living in this tiny apartment…

I hear my phone beep with an incoming text but I don't bother looking at it. I don't want to talk to anyone right now. I don't want to talk to anyone ever again.

It beeps again, and again I ignore it. After a few minutes I manage to work up the strength to remove the silly bow tie from around my neck and unbutton the shirt collar, which feels suddenly like it's choking me. Stupid, freaking, tuxedos! I am never, ever, wearing one of these hateful things again! Not ever!

A few minutes later my phone rings. "No! Not now!" I scream, fisting my hands into my hair. I don't usually answer my phone when I'm in a good mood, unless it's from Katniss. That thought wrenches another choked sob from my throat. I let it ring until it stops.

It rings again, only twice before it stops abruptly. And then again with the same pattern. I continue to ignore it, but by the fifth time, just when I'm about ready to launch it through the window, I happen to glance down at it. It's Finnick. He hangs up before I can answer, but then calls back right away. I slide my thumb across the bottom to accept the call, but I can't find it in myself to actually say anything.

"Peeta?" I hear him say. "I know you're there, Peeta. And I know something's happened. Talk to me."

Pressing the button so he's on speaker, I inhale shakily. "I can't-, I can't really talk right now..."

"What's happened?" he says in a low voice. "Talk to me!"

Fresh tears well up in my eyes as I wrap my hands around my head. "She's… gone!" I bellow. The ache in my chest roars back to life, throbbing so hard it steals the breath from my lungs. "Katniss… is gone. She's left me, she left. She left me."

Oh God, she left me!

I hear Finnick sigh deeply over the phone. "That's what I was afraid of," he says after a short pause. "Are you in danger?"

"Wha-, what do you mean?" I mumble.

"Are you in danger?" he repeats slowly. "I'm assuming you're alone right now, so do I need to call someone to come and be with you?"

Through the haze of my heartbreak I finally catch his meaning. The last time I got my heart broken, I lost half of my leg. "Well, I'm certainly not going to go wandering through the forest, looking for another abandoned bear trap."

"Peeta!" Finnick retorts. "That's not funny and you know it. Now, I'm going to ask you again. Do I need to call someone to come and be with you?"

"No, damn it!" I sob. I feel my fingernails digging into the back of my neck. "No! I don't want to be around anyone right now!"

"Fine," Finnick says. "But if for any reason you feel the need to go out and do something stupid, you call me first. I don't care what time it is, or what else I'm doing. You call me before you do anything. Is that understood?"

"Yeah," I concede. "Understood."

"Okay. Now, I have some news."

"What's that?"

"Annie, Finn, and I are moving back. We'll be up there in two weeks from Monday if all goes according to plan. It's a bummer, because we'll just miss Thresh's concert, but that's the soonest we could find an apartment big enough for us."

"You're moving back here?" I say slowly. "But, why? And what about your church?"

I hear Finnick sigh through the tiny speaker on my phone. "Annie and I gave it up. We hadn't grown at all in over two years, Peeta. We weren't even bringing in enough offering money to cover the rent for the movie theater where we met on Sunday mornings, much less cover any type of salary for a staff. I was still working full-time at the shrimp factory, and Annie was still trying to babysit the after-school kids, and be the lone staff member, and well… Annie and I just can't do it all by ourselves, especially now with the new baby on the way. So when this opportunity came up, we decided to disband the church and move back."

"I'm sorry, Finnick." Having his own church was always a dream of his. I guess I'm not the only one letting go of a dream today. "So what'll you guys be doing? Back to the hospitals?"

There's a long pause. "Um, no," Finnick replies. "We're coming back. To Mountainside. I'm going to be the new Revolution Pastor, up there at Mountainside."

I feel the blood freeze in my veins as I start to shake. "Revolution?" I croak out. "What's that?"

Then it hits me. I've heard Thresh mention that name before. It's what the church was thinking of renaming its combined Teens/ Young Adult ministry, if in fact they decided not to split the teens off by themselves. And if that's the case, then… I apparently won't be offered an interview for the Teen Pastor position at Mountainside, because there won't be any position to interview for.

"Oh no," Finnick says worriedly. "Pastor Dale assured me that he would let you know. He said they were gonna announce it to the staff on Monday, but that he'd let certain people know sooner. Peeta, I'm so sorry!"

"No. It's okay," I stammer. "It's just as well. Since Katniss is gone… they wouldn't have wanted me anyway."

"That's not necessarily true," Finnick argues. "And this absolutely doesn't mean that you won't ever work as a pastor. You know that, right? It just means that you may not be ready right away. And that's not a bad thing, really. I should've waited too. The Lord even tried to tell me that very thing, and more than once. But I ignored him, and that's not ever a smart thing to do. You need to learn from my mistakes, Peeta."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it does mean exactly that," I mutter. "Because there's no way I'll ever love anyone else. Katniss was it for me, and now she's gone and… there won't be anyone else. Not ever."

"You don't know that-" Finnick starts.

"Yes I do!" I scream. "I love her, Finnick! I love her with my entire body and soul, and there's no way I'll ever be able to open my heart like that again. I don't even have a heart anymore. She took it. She took it and stomped all over it and then threw it away."

Finnick is quiet for a moment. "Peeta, how's your prayer life been lately?"

"What?" I'm startled by the absurdity of the question. "You mean right now? I'd say it's pretty rotten!"

"No, that's not what I mean. I mean, how's it been lately? For the last few months. Or even since you met Katniss?"

"I don't know, okay I guess?" I have half a mind to hang up on him. "I pray. I pray multiple times a day, like I always have."

"Uh huh. And what kind of prayers are they?"

"What's that supposed to mean, Finnick!" I demand.

"Just answer the question, Peeta," he snaps back.

"Normal prayers!" What in the world is Finnick trying to get at? "I would pray a lot for Katniss, like for her to be safe when she'd drive home from my place. I'd pray for her to agree to start seeing Dr. Aurelius, because I think he'd be able to help her like he helped me. I'd pray for understanding when she'd get defensive during an argument. Things like that."

"Hmm," Finnick says in his pastor voice. "I think I'm seeing a pattern here. You would always pray for Katniss to do what you wanted her to do. To follow your plan, and your heart. But Peeta, did you ever pray for her to follow her own heart? Her own plan? Even if that plan led her away from you?"

I slowly tip over onto my side as another crushing wave of sadness washes over me. "No," I admit. "I never did. I was always afraid to admit the possibility that her plan might be different from my own."

"Well," Finnick says. "I'm not gonna harp on you about this, 'cause I'm not mean like that. But I think you can see where you might've went wrong here. Paul tells us in Hebrews that faith is the realization of things hoped for, and the evidence of things not seen. What faith isn't, is asking God for things to go your way all of the time."

"But I didn't always ask that!" I protest, although rather weakly. Because now that it's been laid out there so bluntly, I realize Finnick is right. The vast majority of my prayers for Katniss were for her to do what I wanted. Not what she wanted, or even what God wanted for her. Only what I wanted.

"Maybe not always," Finnick concedes. But I would go so far as to say the majority of the time? Would that be accurate?"

"Yeah," I mutter. "I suppose that's accurate."

"Alright. So now, I'm gonna challenge you to pray. Pray like you've never prayed before. Pray for forgiveness. Pray for understanding. And most of all, pray for Katniss. Pray for her to find her way, pray for her to find her path. And pray for her to allow God to be her guide, just like he's yours and mine. Pray for her, Peeta. Because even if you never see her again, from everything you've told me about her, she can use all the prayers she can get."

"Yeah," I mumble, scrubbing a hand across my face. "Yeah, that's true."

"So, you'll try?" Finnick asks.

"Yeah. I'll try."

"Good. Because that's the first step that you need to take towards healing."

I fight against the urge to laugh. Because there's no healing. There's no healing from this bad of a broken heart. I'll only be able to survive as a shell of myself. I'll never be whole again.

Why, God? Why?

A fresh layer of frost covers the ground behind the bus stop as I draw my jacket tighter around me, huddling against the howling wind with my old backpack on my back full of dirty clothes. It's been unusually cold this week for this late in the winter. Cold and cloudy and dreary, the kind of damp chill that penetrates directly into your bones no matter how many layers you're wearing. It's as if the weather is directly connected to my mood.

I've tried. I've tried so hard this whole week to follow Finnick's advice. After we hung up the other night, I managed to find the strength to change into my pajamas, carefully packaging the tuxedo back into its garment bag after retrieving the shoes from opposite corners of my apartment. Then I somehow worked up the courage to check my email, where I found a message waiting for me from Pastor Dale.

The very polite message informed me that the church had decided against a separate Teen Ministry for the time being, and thanked me for my interest. It also stated that they had decided to develop a quarter-time position for an official artist/ logo designer, and Dale wanted to know if I would be interested in interviewing for that position. Being only a quarter-time position it wouldn't offer any benefits, but it would be at least a foot in the door for me. And it would allow me to be paid for the design work that I already do for the church.

If, in fact, I decide I want to interview for it. Which, as I told Pastor Dale in my reply, I'm not quite sure yet. Right now I'm still so angry at Cassandra I can't even fathom having to work anywhere around her.

But true to my word, I've been praying more than I ever have before, sometimes spending hours prostrate on the floor of my apartment. I've also been reading and studying as much as possible during this week off from classes, even though I could probably recite my textbooks and class notes in my sleep by now.

At least, that is, if I could get any decent sleep.

The nightmares have been horrible, beginning that first night and continuing on for every single night since. I wake up sweating and gasping for breath, wracked with the phantom limb pains I haven't had in years, sometimes thrashing about so much that I fall onto the floor. After each horrible dream it takes forever to fall back asleep with my racing heart and shaking limbs.

Then I'm still exhausted when my alarm goes off in the morning, causing me to make stupid mistakes down in the kitchen. Things like forgetting to don the oven mitts before taking the cookie sheets out of the oven. Setting the croissant timer for thirty minutes instead of twenty. Neglecting to double-knot my shoelaces, causing me to trip and fall onto my face while carrying a tray of doughnuts. It's been utterly ridiculous.

Why, God? Why bring such a love into my life, and then rip her away from me?

I can't watch a movie without wishing she was here, sitting next to me with her head on my chest and my arms wrapped around her. I can hardly look at the cheese buns that I bake, knowing they were her favorites. I can't pick up my sketchbook, because almost every single drawing in it is of her. I can't even touch the Bible Concordance and Dictionary she gave me for Christmas, because all I can see is the hurt in her eyes when she thought I was insinuating that she couldn't afford them.

I wonder if she still uses her Vikings blanket.

The bus lets me off two blocks away from the laundromat. As I listen to the crunch of my uneven footsteps against the slush on the side of the road, I pray that the place won't be too busy. Being off from school this week has made it a lot easier for me to hide from the world, and I'm not at all ready to start facing it again. I even stayed away from church last weekend, being too cowardly to see everyone and have to answer their questions.

But this Sunday is Easter, and as much as I want to, I absolutely should not miss church on Easter. To me it's even more important a holiday than Christmas.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I arrive at the laundromat to find it only sparsely populated, as one would expect I suppose on an early weekday afternoon. Once I get my clothes separated and the loads started, I sit down with my computer and earbuds to listen to a podcast on dealing with grief that was recommended by Finnick.

The speaker begins by quoting from the book of Job, the quintessential expert on heartbreak and pain. I listen dutifully as she then moves on to describing how the pain we feel today is nothing compared to the joy we will experience in Heaven. She recites from Psalms chapter thirty-four verse eighteen, the Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit. She says to pour your heart out to God because he can take it. All the anger, all the sadness, all of the sense of betrayal, pour it all out on him.

But I've already done that! Multiple times! And it hasn't helped at all! Why, God? Why?

I know Finnick means well, but there is no way he or this speaker can comprehend what I'm feeling. Finnick has never experienced anything like this. None of my church friends have ever experienced anything like this.

I am completely and utterly alone.

Frustrated, I shove my earbuds back into the pocket of my backpack and after transferring my clothes into dryers, pull up a paper I'm working on for my music theory class and get to work. As soon as the dryers are done I cram everything haphazardly into my backpack and head directly for the bus stop, anxious to get home to continue hiding.

I decide to skip the Good Friday worship service, choosing instead to work overtime on both Friday and Saturday to make sure the church cafe doesn't run out of goodies during the weekend. Easter is the busiest weekend of the year, and last year I had to go into work in between the two Sunday services because the cafe had completely sold out after the morning service.

Finally clomping back up the stairs Saturday afternoon, sweaty and exhausted, I flop down onto the futon and check my phone. No texts or messages. I'm not exactly sure why, but I keep hoping to hear something from Katniss. Just a quick note to let me know that she's okay, that she's happier now that she's back home. Or, that she's realized she's made a big mistake and wants to come back.

But there's nothing. I've heard absolutely nothing from her since she walked away from me a week ago. And I'm not too proud to admit it would probably make me feel even worse if I knew she was happier now that she was out of my life.

Why, God? Why?

Sighing, I drop my phone onto the coffee table and sit back to remove my shoes. I spend the rest of the day working on schoolwork, even though at this point I'm so far ahead in my classes I could probably teach them myself.

Sunday morning dawns bright and sunny, and I'm awoken by the beams of sunlight streaming through my window. It's been so dark and dreary this whole week that I guess I'd forgotten to close my blinds last night before bed. The light is so bright I have to blink several times before I'm able to open my eyes completely.

Checking the clock, I'm surprised to see that it's already 8:30 in the morning. I never set an alarm for Sunday mornings, as it's the only day of the week that I'm able to sleep in, but the baker in me is hardly ever able to sleep past 7am.

"May as well go to church this morning," I mumble as I swing my legs around so I can sit up. I haven't been to a Sunday morning service in ages, and it'll be absolutely packed today which I'm not looking forward to. But that will also make it easier for me to blend in, and most likely avoid most of my friends.

With that decided, I slide down to my knees, leaning over the futon. "Dear God. Thank you for the precious gift of your Son Jesus. Thank you that you sent him to us, to take the punishment for our sins, to be our sacrificial lamb. Thank you for the new life you give us through him. And please Lord, help me get through today. Help me to rejoice and be glad that Jesus has risen, instead of only focusing on my own hurts. And… I pray that wherever Katniss is today, that she is happy and secure in her future. I pray that she's called out to you, that she's given her life to you. But if that's not the case, I pray that you continue to work on her. Because she needs you, Lord. She needs you, much more than she ever needed me. In Jesus' name, amen."

Nobody really needs me.

After a quick breakfast of a banana and some orange juice, I shower and dress and head out the door, determined to get there early enough to find a seat but late enough to be able to blend in with the crowd. The weather is so bright and warm outside I have to remove my jacket about halfway there, the ache in my chest growing heavier as I walk. This would've been a perfect day to go for a picnic somewhere with Katniss. I might've even been willing to set foot in a woods again, something I swore I would never do.

The atrium is packed with people when I arrive, with the line for the cafe twisting and turning like the line for an amusement park ride. And even with all the overtime I put in baking for this weekend's services, in the few minutes I spend watching the cafe customers, I see someone purchase the last available cheese bun.

At least someone is enjoying them.

Keeping my eyes peeled for people who might know me, I head into the auditorium, finding a chair near the back. I know Thom is here because he's directing this weekend, but he's almost certainly in the control room already, and most likely Delly won't be here until tonight's service. Most of my group members attend the evening services too, so I should be okay. We didn't have group on Good Friday because of the worship service, and this coming week is the TobyMac concert on Thursday, so I went ahead and canceled group for Friday since I wasn't sure what time we'd be back in town. I know a lot of people are staying overnight in Richmond after the concert, rather than drive all the way back up the mountain after it's over, which is what we'll be doing. But instead of paying to stay in a hotel somewhere, Delly's parents have offered to let Delly, Thom, and I stay overnight at their house about an hour outside of Richmond. Once again, I'll be the third wheel to their pair.

That gives me almost two more weeks to pull myself together enough to lead the group again. Only two weeks…

The auditorium is packed by the time the countdown clock begins. As people continue to pour in, I abandon my chair to stand in the back once it becomes apparent that we'll run out of seats. On the darkened stage I can see the band members setting up, draping guitar straps across shoulders, adjusting microphone stands, and twirling drumsticks. Thresh, dressed in a white button-down shirt and black jeans, steps to the middle of the stage as the clock counts down to zero and the audience quiets in anticipation.

Make a way for
Make a way for
Make a way for the King
The King is coming

The huge crowd cheers as light beams burst from the ceiling, illuminating the stage in white lights.

"Good morning, Mountainside Church!" Thresh announces into his microphone, his deep voice reverberating throughout the auditorium. "Welcome everyone to Resurrection Sunday! We're all so happy you're here! Let us rejoice and be glad today, because Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior, is risen!"

Empty hearts are filling up
Wicked ways are coming undone
Every eye is looking out for You

Oh, how I wish Katniss was here to see this! All the extra practicing Thresh has been doing to prep for the concert is paying off, because I don't think he has ever sounded as good as he does this morning. There's no way I'm the only person in the room with goosebumps right now. I even allow myself a slight smile.

City lights are burning out
Freedom's song is ringing loud
Dead men waking up to the sound of You

Unconsciously, I even start softly humming along, off-key and all.

And all our hearts can sing
And all our hearts can sing!

The song ends to raucous applause, forcing another smile onto my lips as the opening bars of This is Amazing Grace begin, with Thresh sitting down at his piano as Darius steps forward, strumming his guitar.

Who breaks the power of sin and darkness
Whose love is mighty and so much stronger
The King of Glory, the King above all kings
Who shakes the whole earth with holy thunder
And leaves us breathless in awe and wonder
The King of Glory, the King above all kings

To my surprise Pastor Dale appears on the stage as the final notes of the song fade away, leading us in the opening prayer. His message today, full of love and hope, discusses how important the resurrection of Jesus is to us.

"The apostle Paul said," he begins, holding his tattered Bible in one hand as he sweeps through the air with the other. "And if Christ has not been raised, our preaching is useless and so is your faith. More than that, we are then found to be false witnesses about God, for we have testified about God that he raised Christ from the dead. But he did not raise him if in fact the dead are not raised. And if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins."

"Futile," Dale continues. "Think about that for a moment. What exactly does futile mean? Well, I'll tell you what it means. It means 'that which produces no results'. It is a promise without fulfillment. A story with no end. A dream that never comes true."

Like my dream that didn't come true. Futile.

Dale continues preaching for another forty minutes, covering most of first Corinthians chapter fifteen, ending with verse fifty-eight; "So, my dear brothers and sisters, be strong and immovable. Always work enthusiastically for the Lord, for you know that nothing you do for the Lord is ever useless."

"Nothing that you do for the Lord is ever useless!" he affirms. "Absolutely nothing! No matter how alone you feel, or how futile your actions seem, nothing is ever futile in the eyes of Jesus! Even if the person you're desperately trying to save seems to reject everything you say and do, your words and your actions will stick with them. They will be remembered. And someday, your words and actions will be the catalyst to that person's salvation."

I can only pray that that's true. That even though I'll likely never see Katniss again, I can pray that she'll remember what she learned here at church, remember what we discussed in our small group, remember the answers I gave to the many questions she asked me over the course of our relationship. And that maybe, someday, someone else will finish what I started and lead her to Jesus.

As Pastor Dale begins the closing prayer the band reappears on stage, with Thresh launching into song as soon as the prayer is over.

Alone in my sorrow and dead in my sin
Lost without hope with no place to begin
Your love made a way to let mercy come in
When death was arrested and my life began

Ash was redeemed only beauty remains
My orphan heart was given a name
My mourning grew quiet, my feet rose to dance
When death was arrested and my life began

Released from my chains I'm a prisoner no more
My shame was a ransom he faithfully bore
He cancelled my debt and he called me his friend
When death was arrested and my life began

I have to swallow against the lump in my throat during the song's final chorus. This was me after my accident, before I met Finnick and Annie. I was dead in my sin, lost without hope, feeling like an orphan with no friends. But Finnick and Annie loved me, saved me from despair, led me to my salvation, and then turned me loose so I could go forth and follow in their footsteps.

And did I learn from their example? When God sent me an orphan, who was lost and without hope, did I follow Finnick and Annie's example of bold, blunt kindness and unconditional love that included a proverbial kick in the pants when needed?

No. Instead, I made it seem like every aspect of our relationship was about me. My selfish actions led Katniss to believe that I only was interested in her so I could land a job, that I didn't find her physically attractive, and that I only cared about the appearance of her salvation and not her salvation itself. I never asked her the hard questions about where she was on her spiritual journey, or asked someone else to help me with guiding her. I never asked her if she wanted to go back to her home someday. I never asked her what she wanted to do with her life, if she wanted to go to school or look for a different job. And I never asked her how she truly felt about me.

And why? Because I'm a coward. Like Peter, when he denied Jesus three times following his arrest. Like my father, when he failed to protect me from my mother. For as much as I've been blaming Cassandra for what she said to Katniss that night, I know now, deep down, that things would've imploded anyway, sooner or later. I'd kept too much from Katniss, and was too focused on my own goals, my own dreams, and not focused enough on what she needed.

"Lord, I'm sorry!" I blurt out loud, my voice lost in the thunderous applause following the band's performance. "I'm sorry! Please, forgive me for being so unbelievably selfish and ignorant!"

I've always been a good student. Even when I was in elementary school I never got anything below an A-, and I've never been satisfied with anything less than one hundred percent. But Katniss wasn't a test. She wasn't another school assignment I needed to ace. She was the real thing, and I absolutely, positively failed her as much as any person can fail at something.

"Oh Lord," I whisper. The service is over now, with people jostling me as they head towards the exits, so I back up until I'm leaning against the wall. "I'm so sorry! Please, tell Katniss that I hope she can find it her heart to forgive me someday. Please make sure that she knows how sorry I am. And I pray that I haven't turned her away from you forever with how terribly I behaved. In Jesus' name, amen."

Thom and I haven't been carpooling at all to school lately since we don't share any classes this semester, so I'm surprised when he texts me on Monday night, offering to pick me up on Tuesday afternoon. I accept grudgingly, if for the only reason that my bus pass is almost empty.

"Hey Peeta," he says as I climb into his car.

"Hey Thom. I appreciate the ride."

"It's no problem," he answers as we turn onto the main road. "I need to meet with my advisor before my first class today, so…"

We're quiet for most of the drive, which for Thom isn't unusual, but I can feel him glancing at me every now and then as I keep my gaze stubbornly fixed out the passenger window.

"Easter was nice, don't you think?" he asks tentatively once we're about five minutes from campus. "Delly and I missed seeing you though. Which service did you end up going to?"

"Um, I went on Sunday morning," I say, my voice catching. "It-, it's been a long time since I'd been to a Sunday morning service."

"Ah," Thom replies. "Gotcha. Yeah, that service was standing room only from what I saw."

"Yeah, it was pretty busy. I ended up giving up my chair and standing near the back."

We lapse back into silence until Thom pulls into a parking spot in one of the commuter lots. "Hey, um… Delly and Cassandra have arranged to have a prayer meeting up at the church tonight for Thresh. So we can pray him up before the big concert Thursday night." He eyes me warily. "I know he'd love it if you could come."

No! I'm not ready to see anyone yet! "Ah," I say. "Thom, I don't… I don't know, um..."

"Peeta!" Thom admonishes. I jump at the sound of his raised voice. "This is for Thresh! Cassandra told Delly that he's so nervous he can hardly eat or sleep, so we need to help him. He needs us!"

"Thom," I plead. "Please, don't-"

"Look," he interrupts. "I know what happened. I know what's going on with you, and I know that you're trying to hide from everybody, but you can hide forever. And Thresh is your friend, like I'm your friend. And he needs us to be there for him right now. This is a huge deal to him, Peeta, you know that. It's a chance of a lifetime, and he needs us to pray him up. So, can I tell Delly that you'll be there?"

I want to ask him how he knows, but at the same time I think I'd rather not know. And Thom's right, this is the chance of a lifetime for Thresh. If it were me, I'd be hurt if he wasn't there. "Yeah," I mutter. "Yeah, I'll be there."

"Good," Thom says, nodding. He reaches into the backseat for his school bag. "You made the right choice."

"Yeah," I say, getting out of the car. "What time should I meet you here to go home?"

"Ah, I'll be working late in the media room, so I was just gonna head straight to the church from here. You can come find me there if you want."

"Nah," I reply. "I'll take the bus home after I recharge my pass. But thanks again for the ride here." I start walking towards my classroom building.

"But you'll be at the church tonight, yeah?" he calls from across the lot. "We're meeting at 7pm on the big stage."

"Yeah, I'll see you then," I say reluctantly.

"Alright, see you then."

So that's why he offered me the ride today.

The afternoon drags on, with the two seventy minute classes each feeling like they take several hours. It's all I can do to stay awake. After picking up a snack at the student union and recharging my bus pass, I'm heading towards the bus stop when I remember that tomorrow is Wednesday, which means I'm scheduled to see Dr. Aurelius in the afternoon.

His office was closed last week, so I haven't seen him at all since Katniss left me. A sharp bolt of pain pierces my heart as I remember what we talked about during our last meeting. How I promised I would sit down with Katniss and ask her some of the big questions I'd been avoiding for so long. But I never got the chance.

Pulling out my phone, I dial Dr. Aurelius' office, telling the receptionist that I need to cancel my appointment for tomorrow and that I'll call again when I'm ready to reschedule. I'm not ready to face Dr. Aurelius yet. Not when he probably could see this coming way back when he first met me.

I'm definitely my father's son.

The church atrium is empty when I walk through the doors at 6:55pm, although I can hear a smattering of voices coming from the auditorium. As I approach the stage I notice that almost everyone is here already, squashed in around Thresh who's sitting on his piano bench in the middle of the crowd of people, all laying hands on him. Finding a bare patch of floor to the left of the bench, I reach out to touch his arm right as Darius begins to pray.

"Holy Lord," he begins. "We know you've led our dear brother Thresh to this point. We know that it's by your grace and holiness that he was given this opportunity to sing with an artist whom he truly admires. He knows it was you who blessed him with the talent to win that audition, and he knows it's you who will give him the means to absolutely nail his parts during the performance! Lord, please give him the confidence that he needs! Lord, please take away just enough of his nervousness so he can get some adequate rest before the concert, and Lord! Please let him honor the gift you gave him by knocking everyone's socks off! In Jesus' name, I pray!"

There's a chorus of "woohoo's" that travels around the group before Shannon Leeg starts in on her own prayer. She's followed by Jackson, then Rue, then Thom, and so on. I've been a part of these hotseat type of prayers before, but never one quite like this. The air around us seems electric, like the actual Holy Spirit is in the room with us, blessing Thresh through our prayers, and leaving absolutely no doubt that he will blow everyone away on Thursday.

But Katniss should be here too. She helped him, and she should be here.

But she's not here. She's gone. And it's all my fault. As I walk back to the coffee shop in the dark, I keep going over our last conversation in my head, looking for ways I could've fixed things. Made her understand where I was coming from. Apologized better.

But would it have helped? Maybe she was only looking for an excuse to leave and finally got one. Maybe she intended to go back home all along and just didn't want to tell me. Maybe, she didn't really love me at all.

I'm never going to see her again. May as well get used to it.

Clomping up into my apartment, I pull my shoes off and collapse onto the futon. The good feeling from the prayer service all but gone.

I get home from school Thursday afternoon about thirty minutes before Thom and Delly are scheduled to pick me up for the two hour drive down to Richmond. I've just finished packing my overnight stuff into my backpack when my text alert beeps.

[Thom] Hey, we'll be a little later picking you up. Probably closer to 430.

[Peeta] Okay. You gotta work late or something?

[Thom] No, but we need to pick Katniss up first.

I suck in a sharp breath, nearly dropping the phone.

She knows I'll be there too, doesn't she? Maybe I shouldn't go.

My head is spinning so fast I have to sit down. Never in a million years did I think she'd still want to go to the concert. I assumed she was already back home. Back with Gale, the Thor look-alike.

[Peeta] She's coming?

[Thom] Yeah. She talked to Delly last night and said she still wanted to come.

[Peeta] Okay. I'll see you guys then.

After I send the text I set the phone down on the coffee table, eyeing it suspiciously. Why? Why would she do this? As far as I know she hasn't had any contact with any of us since the night of the wedding. And why now, just when I've accepted the fact that I'll never see her again. When I've finally accepted that she wasn't a part of my future.

Why, God? What in the world are you doing to me?

Song References:
The King is Coming by Newsboys
This is Amazing Grace by Phil Wickham
Death Was Arrested by North Point InsideOut

All three of these have been added to the YouTube playlist, (search Practice Run Playlist) or you can find them on iTunes as well.

Biblical References:
Hebrews 11:1
1 Corinthians 15: 14-17, 58

Please let me know what you think! I appreciate each and every single review and message!