Hope you all like this chapter (I don't).

"I can't."

"She's your daughter."

A deep sigh on the other end of the phone line tells me is getting annoyed with me. The feeling is mutual. "Peeta, I can't come see her. The hospital is very busy and I don't have an vacation time-"

"You live down the road from your daughter and you can't visit her after work?" I accuse, "Katniss is asking for you. I know she doesn't know who I am, but you can help her now more than I can. Who knows how scared she is when the only visitor she gets is a stranger?"

"I just can't do it." She states. End of story. That's how these calls go.

"Well," I look at the cup of hot chocolate in front of me, the steam rising off it steadily as I continue, "Then I want power of attorney." Mrs. Everdeen begins to protest but I cut her off, "If you want to lock her away in a mental hospital and go on living your live like she never existed, I think I could take better care of her."

The silence stretches on until a soft click tells me she's hung up.

The next day Katniss is out of the cramped hospital room, sitting in one of the awfully colored green arm chairs that face out toward the giant window that overviews the rest of the facility grounds. The courtyard is full of other patients milling around, lounging on beaches outside as they talk to themselves or their nurses. As I walk over to her I can't help but feel guilty, she shouldn't be in here.

"Good afternoon," I greet cheerfully as I set the Mellark Bakery bag down in her lap.

Katniss doesn't answer, simply opens the top of the warm bag to peer inside. Three cheese buns, baked fresh right before I got here. Although today's different, instead of digging into her lunch, Katniss tentatively looks over her shoulder before asking, "Is my mother coming soon?"

"Oh, yeah... About that." I scratch the back of my neck nervously, "She's not exactly available right now."

"She's never available." Katniss spits out angrily, and for a second I see it, the old Katniss break out of her as she continues, "She wasn't available to come visit last week, or the week before that." She breathes deeply as her voice rises, "I'm starting to think she doesn't want to see me!"

Nurses start to close in as Katniss stands up and I try to calm her down, "Wait! Wait..."

"No!" She yells, holding her head in her hands. The nurses find this to be enough though, two male ones grabbing either of Katniss's arms which she protests, then a tiny, older woman injecting something into her left one. I'm standing now too, worriedly asking, "What did you do?"

"Sedative." The woman answers, letting one of the men carry Katniss back to I'm guessing her room, "Sometimes the patients get a little excited and need a little help calming down."

"You just put them to sleep?" I think of old Katniss and remember how she hated sleeping aids because they trapped her in nightmares from her father's death, "I need to go be with her." Without another word I attempt to brush pass the woman but she holds one hand up to stop me.

"No. No visitors in the private patient rooms."

"Why?"

"Rules are rules." She glares at me before continuing to check on patients. I don't get the name on her name tag in time, but I'm sure I've never seen her before. Dread fills my stomach and I can't shake it away. Why don't I feel right about leaving Katniss in the care of these people?

..

The light of my dell laptop is too bright in the dark, quiet guest bedroom. I haven't been able to sleep in me and Katniss's since everything happened, too many memories haunt that room now. Luckily, our apartment has two bedrooms, one which we had already set up a bed for guests. It's fitting. I really don't feel at home here anymore.

Capitol Memorial Health Facility, reads the top of the screen, white cursive text against a black banner. Continuing I read the about us page for the hundredth time since Katniss has been there.

"CMHF is located on five beautifully kept acres of land, with two gardens and one pond (with waterfall!) for patients to enjoy. Just off of Panem Road, the Capitol is a prime choice for many families who cannot take care of their loved ones." It continues for ten paragraphs, listing every feature from the 200 plus private rooms to the Olympic sized indoor swimming pool.

At the bottom is the neatly placed signature of the facility's founder. A doctor's who has locked himself away after years of groundbreaking research.

Doctor Coriolanus Snow, Founder.

The picture accompanying it is of him sitting with a little girl on his lap, a single white rose in his suit pocket and a neatly trimmed snow-white beard. Taking a deep breath, I copy his name and paste it in the search bar, hitting enter quickly and letting Google do it's magic.

"Doctor Snow credited with breakthrough treatment."

"Doctor Snow donates four million to children's hospital."

The list goes on until I hit page 3, where I pale at the sight of the link.

"Doctor Snow Under investigations for harmful testing on patients at CMHF."

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