I lay wide awake all night suffering not so silently. Strangled sobs escape me when my control breaks. I'm so angry at him, not for refusing me but for leaving me alone. I'm terrorized by my own mind at night. Peeta is the reassuring peace my mind craves, and tonight I will get no such relief. I pull his shirt tighter around me and breathe in the scent of him. It's nothing compared to him physically being here. Sleep never find me, I take to pacing the room and staring out the windows. Once morning breaks the day offers no happiness. Dark grey cloud laden with rain roll into the Capitol. Thunder and lightning crash and flash in the sky. Effie calls the phone in the room and informs me we have the day off, our plans to be outside today have been ruined by the rain. I take a long shower and braid my hair. I slip into a soft knit pair of leggings and a fitted long sleeve sweater in dull silver. I climb back into bed and figure out how to work the fancy tv in the room. I settle for movie, in which I don't pay attention to.

Sleep takes me into the arena that started my terrors. Peeta lies dead a few feet from the cornucopia, and the mutts are ascending upon me. Cato has tied me to the cornucopia and leers at me as the mutts tear at my body. With a loud pop my whole arm is wrenched from my body. This continues limb after limb until the last mutt's razor sharp teeth sink into my neck. I awake drenched in sweat and screaming at the top of my lungs. It isn't long before I feel queasy and my stomach lurches. I barely make it into the bathroom as my hateful stomach assaults me. Sweat rolls from my head down my back, my entire body trembles. I have nothing left to give, these terrors effect me too much. I know Cato is dead, and Peeta is alive. Knowing that doesn't make the terrors go away. I curl up on the cold tile floor, pressing my cheek against it. I will myself to get my stomach under control as it flops and churns more… it will only be a matter of time before I'm sick again.

I hear the door click open and shut softly than hurried foot steps toward me.

"Sweetheart, off the floor." Haymitch states.

I wished it was Peeta, but I can't always get what I want, "No… I'm going to get sick again. Leave, please."

Haymitch laughs and sits on the floor and puts a cold cloth on my neck, "Why don't you tell me why you were screaming in the middle of the day?"

"Scary movie." I breathe.

"Why are you sick then?" He states believe none of what I am telling him.

"Hung-over." I offer feebly.

"You are poor liar." He says.

"You are annoying." I groan as more bile rises in my throat.

After another round of being sick, I'm dizzy and shaking even more. I hear Haymitch turn on the faucet and comment about me drinking water. He hands a small cup to me, full of cold water. I take a long pull from it and realize what he has done to me. The water is sickly sweet, laced with sleep syrup. My mind is already drowsing before I can even think of a way to force myself to throw up again.

"Sorry sweetheart, you'll thank me later." Haymitch scoopes me up and places me in bed again.

I'm angered as sleep consumes me, this time with no dreams.