Mrs Mellark strolled into the back of the bakery grinning. "So Peeta, I was just talking to Mrs Carthwright, and the word around town is that girlfriend of yours has been seen all over town with Gale Hawthorne."

Peeta look over at his mother. Of course she has do anything to make him feel bad, "Mom, they're friends."

"Yeah friends with benefits," she laughed. "Everyone is talking about why you both haven't been seen with one another since you got home. I for one—"

Mr Mellark interrupts his wife, "Peeta we would love to get to know her. Why don't you bring her to dinner sometime?" His wife glared at him. Peeta knew she wouldn't ever be happy to have someone from the seam in her home, especially for dinner.

Peeta looked down at his hands, "Um….." What would he say? He could beg Katniss to come to dinner as a favour, but he didn't think she would go for that. She would barely stick around her house when he came to around. He had tried for weeks to get to know her, and he had failed misserably. Maybe it was time to let his parents in on the secret, it was bound to come out eventually. He was tired of living a lie. "I can't invite her over. We broke it off," he said choosing not to tell them the whole story. He knew it was best if his mother didn't know about it, it would only give her more ways to put him down.

"Oh Peeta, you can't even keep a seam girl happy, how do you expect to get any girl to love you," she joked. Peeta face fell. How could his mother be so cruel? "I mean a girl from the seam should be happy to have any Merchant like her, let alone the likes of her. Instead she's running away from you. Face it Peeta your unlovable. Since your a victor, you should have girls lining up around you, but no, now they're avoiding you like the plague."

Peeta held in the tears that were forming in his eyes. Maybe her words were true. Since coming home his friends had kept their distance, his family didn't ever come to see him, and Katniss made sure that she wasn't around.

He glanced over at his father. He wished just once his father would speak up and tell his mother to quit it, but he just stood there looking down at the bread he was making. His father took the coward way out, pretending that this wasn't happening around him.

"Peeta you will be lucky if you don't end up like that drunk victor. All alone in that house of yours—"

He couldn't take anymore of her abuse today, he needed to get away. "I've got to go," he stuttered as he took of his apron.

"What you can't handle hearing the truth. I'm just trying to prepare you for the real world. The world is filled with disappointments. I should know. I have had plenty, especially the night you arrived. You were suppose to be the girl that we had been trying for…."

Peeta stormed off before he had to hear anymore of this. It seemed like his mother had been gotten worse since he came home, or maybe he just wasn't as tolerant as he once was.

He took the back route to Victor's Village. The last thing he wanted was to have people from town to be staring at him. People would assume why he was upset, and would gossip around town. And he knew that would just make his mother even more mad. She hated to be the center of everyone's gossip unless it benefited her.

…

Peeta had spent the rest of the afternoon baking in his own kitchen. Whenever he was upset, he found himself baking, it soothed him. He had found himself doing it a lot since he come home, always making more than he needed, so he gave what he didn't need to Haymitch and the Everdeen's. He found himself on the Everdeen's doorstep again with a bunch of goodies. Prim had told him that Katniss had devoured the cheese buns the first time he brought then, since then she hadn't allowed anyone else to have any of them. It made him smile knowing that he had been right about it being the perfect item for her. Since then he always made sure to send them over with anything he would bring them.

He looked through the window to see a dim light in the living room. It didn't look like anyone was in there though. He hoped he wasn't bothering them at dinner time. He was later than he usual was, because he had wanted to check in on Haymitch. After seeing the disarray his home was in day after day, he felt the need to clean it for him. Show Haymitch even though he might not like it, he did care for him.

Peeta knocked on the grey door before him, and stood there and waited for someone to answer. He was shocked when Gale answered the door. He knew he came by their house from time to time when he wasn't in the mines, but he didn't expect for him to answer their door.

"What are you doing here? Gale said rudely, as he stood there with his arms crossed.

"I've come to drop some stuff off for the Everdeen's," Peeta said. He really wished someone who actually lived there would come to the door. He really didn't want to be talking with him. It wasn't that he hated Gale, but he knew that Gale wasn't rather fond of him, and he wasn't up for another fight today.

"Well they don't need your charity," he scowled.

"It's not charity. I just always bake too much, and don't want it to go to waste," thinking that it really wasn't any of his business to say what he does for this family. Mrs Everdeen had always appreciated the gesture, and she always found a way of showing thanks, like sending Prim over dinner for him.

"When are you going to get it through that thick skull of yours that Katniss doesn't want anything to do with you."

"I…." he begins to say before Gale cuts him off. "Your like this love-sick puppy that won't go away. Don't you get it, she just felt sorry for you, and thought that District 12 would hate her if she didn't save you too. She would never be caught dead dating a townie, people who don't know anything about our suffering." He wanted to shut him up there. He may not know what its like to starve, but it wasn't like his family had a lot of food either. And not to mention the suffering he had dealt with all his life with his mother. Yet here was Gale judging him as if he knew what his life was like.

"You know she sneaks off early mornings so that she doesn't have to see you. She hates you for lies you told, lies that she will have to play out every time you two go to the capital. Did you ever think about her when you did this?" Of course he had. He knew that she came off harsh, and he had wanted the Capital to love her so that she had better chances at sponsors. He was trying to save her life, because he thought she had more reasons to go home. She had a family to take care of. But most of all he had done it because he loved her, and thought her life was worth saving over his.

"You know it would have been better you died in that arena, because then Katniss would be the rid of the likes of you—" Peeta refuse to let Gale see that he had gotten to him.

"GALE!" Mrs Everdeen said as she came to the door, "Your mother raised you better than that." She turned to Peeta, embarrassed by the way her guest had just talked to him, "I'm so sorry for his behaviour."

"It's okay," he stuttered, but it really wasn't.

"No it's not," she knew that Peeta didn't deserve the treatment he was getting.

"Here," he said handing her the bag. "I've got to get home," he said before running off towards his house.

He slammed the door behind him, he had never felt so alone before. He walked into the kitchen, and just started throwing came rushing down his face. No one wanted him around, not his family, not his friends, not Haymitch and especially not Katniss. They had all given up on him the moment he entered that arena. No one thought he was good enough to win the games, no one thought he was worth it. Was he ever going to be good enough for anyone? It hurt so much to know that Katniss didn't love him, but it hurt more knowing that she despised him. His mother must be right, he was unlovable.

That's when he saw the knife on the edge of the counter. He picked it up, and stared at it for a moment. Did he really want to do this? He was just so tired of hurting all the time, he needed some type of release. His hand shook as he brought the blade to his arm. He slowly slid the sharp blade across the surface of his arm. He cried as he felt the built of anger and hurt be release with the shallow cut.

Realization hit him of what he had just done, he grabbed a washcloth, and quickly put it on his arm, holding it tightly there, as he rushed over to his cabinet where he kept the first aid supplies. He quickly bandaged himself up. He was a pro at attending his wounds, he had plenty of them growing up, but this was the first time he had been the one to cause it.

….

He slowly crawled into bed that night, and cried. He told himself that he wouldn't ever get desperate enough to cut again. He didn't want to be that weak guy that they all thought he was.