Kitty In Boots thanks for your review, especially since you were my one and only. I tried breaking up the dialogue more.
Do I even want to get close to Katniss again? I ask myself as I make my way across the porch of the house and towards the door. What if it ends bad? What if I hurt her? I lean my head against the front door for a moment listening to the argument going on inside me. Maybe you want to hurt her, maybe that's why you want to be friends again. No, I would never hurt Katniss. You've strangled her before, you can do it again. It's no use. This isn't a problem I can solve on my own , I need to talk to Katniss, who's to say she even wants to be my friend anyway? . Huffing in frustration I punch the door, push away from its cool surface, and walk inside slowly dropping my suitcase by the door. I'm almost shocked to see my house exactly the way I left it before the quarter quall. Could it really have been that short ago that I was here? It can't be it feels like a lifetime ago, an entirely different Peeta.
My folded laundry still sits in the basket by the staircase, waiting to be carried up to my room. My eyes roam the first floor slowly, taking in everything. My apron still hangs at a lopsided angle from its hook from when I threw it up there after baking. A picture of me Katniss smiling at each other on the victory tour sitting on the coffee table from the evening I starred at it and cried, mourning the love never returned, and the chance of a possible life with her I was losing by scarifying myself for her. The only change is a thin layer of dust coating every surface, other than that the house remains untouched.
Suddenly I'm angry; if my family had just taken me up on my offer to live here they might still be alive. They would have been working at the bakery anyway Peeta. ATLEAST THEY WOULD HAVE STOOD A CHANCE! I scream at myself. It's all just too much and I don't know what to do. This house I never even liked left so perfect, where the home I loved is a pile of rubble in the middle of town. I reach out to support myself on the closet thing but it ends up crashing to the ground. The movement feels right however, almost freeing.
Abruptly I'm running through the house lashing out at everything I can wrap my sturdy hands around. Smashing it to the ground, jumping on it if it isn't fractured enough for my liking and occasionally pegging it at the nearest wall for emphasis. By the time I've tired myself out the house is destroyed, I fumble backwards towards the dearest wall sliding down until I'm sitting on the ground and take pride in my work. The floor is hardly visible covered in rubbish and I know I'll have to clean it up later but I can't deny the fact that I feel better. When did I become so violent? You know when. When did i become so bipolar? You know when.My father always said it was okay to talk to yourself, but when you started answering yourself you had a problem. Terrific. Before I can delve deeper into conversations with myself there's a knock at the door and suddenly I'm panicked. What if it's Katniss? She can't see me like this. She'll think I'm nuts. Just as I'm making the decision to hide in the nearest closet and wait her out Haymich barges in, reminding me I should lock the door.
"You know if you wanted to pretend you weren't home, you could have started with not breaking every piece of glass like a bull." He slurs reeking of white wine and sweat. For a millisecond I'm relieved, happy almost that it was Haymich instead of Katniss at my door but then I remember her disheveled state and I'm livid. "this place is a mess" he tacks on.
"Oh yes let me start taking housekeeping tips from the man who can't even remember to take a shower." I retort sarcastically. "or call his neighbor for 5 seconds and make sure she's, oh I don't know, BREATHING!" Katniss could have been dead for all he knew, who's to say he would care.
"I would have smelled the body" he winks. My facial expression murderous as it is must be enough to enlighten him I'm not in the joking mood. "Okay okay boy, sorry, I've just been …busy"
It's the first time I really look at Haymich and it's almost enough to make me feel bad for being so impolite. His once bulky starchier has shrunk and though he's not nearly as malnourished as Katniss, he's close. His blonde hair is too long and greasy, and his breathing too labored. His hands shake so hard I think he might be having a seizure. The bags under his eyes indicate he's been avoiding sleep for too long and suddenly I know what he means by busy, busy avoiding the past, the nightmares sure to engulf his future. What a messed up trio we are.
"Well" I start taking on a lighter tone "I'm back, I'll take care of her now" Though I'm sure me being her caretaker will only anger her, so I'll have to take a more subtle approach. For a moment Haymiches eyes flash with an emotion I cannot read.
"Now you listen here boy, that's what I came here to talk to you about." He voice is suddenly much stronger "you lay one hand on that girl and I'll-"
"Haymich" I interrupt. I shouldn't be so mad that he's voicing my own thought from earlier, but I am. He's just looking out for her. A little late for that.How dare he imply I would hurt Katniss again, the very thought repulses me. And just like that my worries from earlier seem silly, I know I won't hurt her, because I'd rather be tortured and killed 20 times over than put her in any kind of pain ever again. Her or Haymich, they're the only family I have left. And ill protect this family like I couldn't protect my own. "I won't hurt her. I can't." He studies me for a moment before deciding my sincerity is enough.
"Greasy Sae makes her dinner every night at 7. I'm sure our little mockingjay will hate the company, but hell what doesn't she hate nowadays." Haymich mumbles more to himself than me as he walks down my porch and into the front yard. I nod curtly in appreciation before closing the door. I can't exactly just show up uninvited, and I'm more than positive Katniss won't invite me so that leaves Greasy Sae. Time to put my plan in motion.
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At 6:30 after I've showered and tidied the house up a bit I think I have a pretty fool proof plan of getting myself invited to dinner. I baked 3 loafs of bread, 2 I leave on Haymiches window sill in hopes he'll eat them and restore a little health and calories to his system. The last I carry with me as I wake my way into what's left of the town, covering my nose and mouth with the collar of my shirt as I did earlier in the day. I don't know exactly where Greasy Sae lives but I know her home to be near where the Hob once stood so I make my way in that general direction. Just as I'm about to start panicking about not being able to find her, I spot her in the streets making her way to Katniss' carring a large pot, hauling along a young girl who does not seem in her right mind. But than again neither am, so who am I judge.
"Greasy Sae!" I yell making my way over to her
"Well if it isn't young Peeta Mellark home in district 12" She smiles a toothless grin at me.
"Home sweet home" I reply smiling back sweetly "I understand that you serve Katniss dinner every night" I begin innocently "I made her some bread, and I was wondering if you'd take it to her" I finish holding out the bread to her.
"Hayley!" She yells to the young girl "take the bread from this young man" she says turning to walk, leaving me behind. Oh no. No no no no. This wasn't how it was suppose to happen. She was supposed to reward my act of kindness with an invitation to dinner. Fool proff mu ass, Peeta. Katniss must have told her not too. I use to be so good with words, but where are my words now? They're dead and gone like everything else in this god forsaken place, that's where they are. I'm suddenly flooded with embarrassment and while I'm about to turn around and head in the opposite direction of Victors Village Greasy Sae grabs my attention.
"Well are you coming or not!" She yells facing me. At first I don't understand and stare at her letting the question sink in before nodding and running up to meet her. "Carry this" She says shoving the pot at me "I'm too old for this".
YAY CHAPTER 2! I wish i could update more, but i don't have a computer anymore, so HEEELLLO LIBRARY. So how's my "trying to be Peeta" going? Good? Bad? I just think that right now Peeta is so fucked up he has no idea how to feel or what to say. And he talks to himself alot, that way he can work things out with himself. Crazy little nutcase that he is. Okay well review, i alwaaaaaays lobe helpful advice. Thanks for those reading, & show some loveee. and i dont why this whole thing is in italics. The doc manager says its not but than the live preview is. waaah.