Disclaimer: All rights to Suzanne Collins

Author's Note: Yay for fast updates! I've had this chapter file open for a week and a half and was determined to finish it yesterday, so I stayed up until midnight writing. Many thanks to my best friend Katelyn who got the chapter at 10:00 in the morning and had it edited and ready to go by eleven. Please review! ""You love me, real or not real?" I tell him, "Real."" -Suzanne Collins, Mockingjay

Chapter 2

Love and the Apothecary

The past few months have become considerably hot. I'm lying stretched out under the kitchen table in my underclothes. I like to sleep in my underclothes during the summer, but not with my father a few feet away. I like the cold floor anyway.

I hear the door open and look up. It's Logan. "Hey," I say, wiggling out from under the table and pull a tee shirt on. It's one he left here once actually, so it goes down to my mid thighs.

"Nice shirt," he jokes. I smile. "How's Gracie?" I tell him my father is convinced she'll be okay, but I'm not. With the Hunger Games just a few months away, the Capitol is sending more and more Peacekeepers so it's been harder to steal without being noticed. We made plans to try today, though.

We have learned all the details of the Hunger Games, and it's a bit nerve racking. I'm scared Logan or I will be reaped, or someone I know. Mostly I'm scared for Logan and myself, but with every teenager in the district having their name put in, chances are we won't be picked.

"You might want to change before we go out," he tells me. I agree. I pull on my gray cloth shorts and blue shirt, brush my hair, and come back to Logan. We aren't stealing now in broad daylight, but we're going to spend the time walking around like old times.

We reach the square and start looking through the shop windows as we walk slowly. "Remember when we were out here from morning to almost the next day?" he asks. I do, of course. That was one of the best days I remember; before all this crap with the rebellion.

"My mom was alive," I say automatically. I don't know what makes me do it, but sometimes those things just come out. A happy memory from before only giving me one distinct thought: my mom was alive then.

Logan wraps his arms around me. "I know," he whispers as he strokes my hair. "I know." A tear falls down my cheek but I don't move to wipe it. He pulls me away to wipe the tear with his thumb and brush the hair out of my eyes. His arms are still around my waist and he bends down and kisses me slowly, softly on the lips. I find myself standing on my toes.

Logan has kissed me before. Those kisses on the forehead when I'm really sad, or when he's really happy, but this isn't one of those kisses. This is a soft, thoughtful kiss on the lips, and we both know it means more than a usual comforting one. I wish I could say I don't know how I feel about this, but I do, and I've known for a long time. We really do love each other; more than brother and sister love. We've just never acted upon it, and now we have.

"Sorry," he says, and I realize I've been standing there for a whole minute without saying anything. "I've probably screwed everything up."
I wrap my arms around his neck and give him another kiss to let him know I don't think he has. This was going to happen eventually, I was sure of it.

"So," he says.

"So…"

"What do you want to do?" he finally asks. It takes me a minute to make up my mind, but I know exactly where I want to take him. I've only been there once before, and it is technically illegal, but it's such a beautiful place.

"Follow me," I say and take his hand. We walk back through the Seam and to the electric fence that blocks off the woods. Most of the time, we don't have electricity, so the fence isn't dangerous. I lead him through the fence and we walk for a while. The woods come to a clearing with only a few small trees that offer enough shade for one or two people. The only other time I have been here was when my mother showed me this place; she used to come here as a kid.

We lay down under the tree. Logan lies straight on his back, and I curl up next to him. Logan has most of the shade, and my skin is hot in the sun, but I don't care. We lay for a while, just looking at each other. Logan brushes his fingers up and down my arm. His touch is so soft; it feels almost like a spider walking on me. He moves my hair and begins to pepper my neck with short, soft kisses. He looks into my eyes. "I love you."

I stare back at him but don't say anything. It's a little soon for "I love you's." We kissed for the first time no more than forty five minutes ago. Love is a strong word. I don't like it. "I don't really-"

"Nah, I get it."

He doesn't seem upset, and he keeps kissing my neck, so I don't think he really cares. I feel bad though, not being able to say it back. I prop myself up on my elbows and give him a long kiss. I'm about to pull away but he doesn't let me. He spins us around so now he's on top of me. He kisses me again on the lips, and this is my longest one. It leaves the taste of mint on my lips, probably from mint leaves he had earlier. He goes back to kissing my neck.

It's getting dark now and Logan and I are lying next to each other under the tree. He's rubbing my back like he usually does. "My head hurts," I tell him.

He sits up. "Let's go to the apothecary and get some medicine," he suggests. I slowly get up too. We walk back to the fence and I throw a rock at it to see if it makes noise when it hits. It doesn't. We climb through and make our way over to the apothecary. I'd never be able to afford the medicine here, so my only chance of getting anything is stealing, but that's tricky.

The apothecary is closed and all the lights are off in the upstairs apartment. I manage to open the door with my hair pin. "Just wait here," I tell him. If I get caught there's no use in both of us being punished.

Logan nods. "Be careful, alright?"

"I will," I promise him. I walk inside as quietly as I can and close the door behind me. There's a section of the counter that lifts up so you can enter the back room with all the supplies. I crawl under it just in case the counter squeaks. I glance up the stairs that lead to the apartment. It doesn't look like anyone is up there, so I continue on to the back room.

Shelves line the walls and are filled with jar upon jar of herbs, liquids, and all sorts of medicines I have never seen before. There's an almost full supply of clear liquid sitting on a counter and I'm pretty sure I saw someone take some as a painkiller the other day. I sneak over and have my hand around a vial when I hear a crash and yelling.

"Hands up!" I know that voice. It's the unmistakable voice of the Head Peacekeeper, Jonas. I release my hand from the vial and slowly turn around. I hope I won't be punished too severely. Maybe the shop owner could excuse me and I'd be let off with a warning, but the two Peacekeepers Jonas came with have strong grips on my arms before I can even move a muscle.

I know the punishment for stealing is being whipped or even death. I hope for the former. I try to worm my out of the Peacekeepers' grips, but it's no use. My small arms are an easy grip for the two men's big hands. They lift me up to carry me through the door, so I start kicking them in the stomachs, but their protective gear only ends up hurting my feet. I hope Logan had the sense to run, I think as I realize there's no way out of this. They carry me to the main square where there is already a wooden structure used as a whipping post. I'm thankful that Logan is nowhere in sight, and is probably safe back at home. The Peacekeepers tie my wrists to the wood so I can't escape. My back is facing Jonas, and I already see people coming to watch.

"Hmm… how many whippings should the little girl get?" He's talking to himself, but loud enough so I can hear. I honestly believe he enjoys torturing people. "Thirty would probably be equal to a death sentence…" Please not thirty, please not thirty. "And you didn't actually steal anything yet, so I'll be nice. Fifteen." I was hoping for one or two, but I know that would be practically impossible. "1, 2…"

Crack. The leather comes in contact with my shirt and leaves a searing pain across my back. I hold a scream and remind myself to take deep breaths. Crack. This one hits at a different angle and crosses the other in the middle of the back, giving me the most pain there. Crack. Tears start rolling fast down my cheeks as the pain intensifies. I feel like my back is on fire, and I'm not even half way done yet. Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack. A disgusting amount of sweat is pouring down my face and I feel the skin on my back broken and bleeding. Crack. Crack. Crack. I let out a loud scream as the whip seems to hit perfectly on an already open wound. My knees are wobbly and I don't think I'll be able to hold myself up much longer, but I know if I don't I'll be hanging by my wrists. And that will be the most painful. Crack. Crack. I vomit. Crack. Crack. One more, I tell myself; only one more. Crack. I let out a scream that only intensifies my headache. The pounding has become so loud I feel like a bomb ready to explode.

I feel the rope being released from my wrists, but my knees give out and I fall on the stone street. I feel like my back is literally on fire and I need ice cold water to put it out. Someone picks me up, Logan probably, but even the slight touch of his arms on my back makes another scream jump out of my throat. There is no other way to be carried without touching my back, so he runs to his house as fast as possible.

I'm set down on the kitchen table where Logan's mother peels off my shirt, which is now stained red, and dumps a bucket of water on my back. Even the slight pressure of the water makes it sting and I fight back another scream. Tears roll down my cheeks as I sob silently, my voice hoarse from all the screaming earlier. Rags are being places on my back when I slip into unconsciousness.