It must be early evening when mum returns home. I've been sat in my study holding the broken portrait of Katniss for what feels like hours, unable to do anything but stare at her fragmented face. How can I bring myself to trust her again? Is she even worthy of my trust? A part of me even feels guilty for telling her to go. So many conflicting thoughts and emotions are running through me with and I am entirely unable to rein them in.

"What did I tell you about that girl?" comes mum's voice from over my shoulder. I turn and look at her; her eyes are on the destroyed portrait. I don't say anything to her, and instead return my gaze to Katniss. "Is this all you've done today? Sat moping around doing sod all? Lazy little shit."

I'm in no mood for her aggression today. "Piss off, mum," I say quietly.

A split second pause, then SMACK! A hard thud to the back of my head, and stars swim sickeningly in front of my eyes. I don't know what she used but it felt like more than just her hand. I gingerly touch the back of my head but it hurts too much to leave my fingers there. I'm on my feet and backing away from her in an instant. "Rude, nasty, ungrateful little prick!" she screams. "How would you feel if I get sent away, and that was how you'd spoken to me?"

Even though I'm edging away from her, I feel a kind of false bravado as I respond. "Dunno, mum. How'd it feel for you last year?"

Her eyes widen in anger as she grabs the nearest thing to her, a glass vase, and she hurls it with all her strength at me. I duck to the side and it smashes on the wall behind me. "Clean that mess up," she hisses and storms away.

I take a few minutes before I start as I am shaking from the encounter. I grab a waste bin and kneel down, picking up the largest pieces first. The back of my head is pounding even worse than ever and also now feels hot. As I try and clean up the worst of the glass I see discarded on the floor the object that was probably used to hit me. A wooden sculpture of an owl; a present that Rhees, my oldest brother, made for my dad when he was eleven. I was only five at the time. I watched him as he carved it and I remember being fascinated by it, by the way Rhees was able to give life to an inanimate piece of wood. Rhees moved out as soon as he turned eighteen and has since set up a reasonably successful furniture business in town. He used to take the blame for mistakes I'd made when I was a kid. As soon as he moved out it became apparent that Rhees wasn't the clumsy daydreamer she'd assumed he was, it was her youngest son, and all her ire was turned on me. He protected me so much as a kid. Ironic that she chose that sculpture as her weapon.

I never understood why it was me that received the brunt of her anger. Over time I began to wonder if I actually deserved it. My other brother, Kern, never seemed to be in trouble with her either. He kept himself to himself, worked hard, never made waves. Maybe that was how he didn't attract her attention. Either way, he decided to stay living at the bakery even though he was offered a room in our new home. Couldn't wait to be away from her. He assured me she wouldn't be so bad now money wasn't such an issue. He was wrong.

I return my attention to the broken glass. Once all the large shards are picked up I retrieve a small dustpan and brush and start to sweep the smaller shards, being careful to ensure I get every last piece. My head is still pounding and feeling hotter every second but I have to finish this first before I can attend to myself.

"Peeta? You ok?" My dad's voice. He's standing in the doorway, a look of concern on his face.

"Fine!" I say, forcing a light tone in to my voice, "Just dropped a glass, that's all."

He steps a little closer, "You need a hand?"

"No, it's fine, got it under control."

He steps a little closer, "You sure, buddy?" Another step closer, then, "Bloody hell, Peet, what have you done to your head? You're bleeding!"

Once again I gingerly touch the back of my head. It still hurts but I feel something else. Hot, slightly sticky, and I can feel where the blood has started to dry has matted my hair. "I ummmm, dropped something. Cracked my head on the corner of a table when I got up." I smile a self deprecating smile and tell him not to worry.

He knows I'm lying. "Let's have a look at you," he says quietly, and leads me to a seat. I feel his hands part my hair so he can have a look at the wound. "It's not too bad," he says. "Get it cleaned up and you'll be right as rain. I'm not an expert though, you should go round to Mrs Everdeen's. Ask her to have a look."

"No!" I snap, louder than I had intended. My eyes fall on Katniss's portrait. Dad follows my line of vision; he must see what I've done but he makes no comment on it. "Let's just get it cleaned up then," he says gently.

He leads me through to the kitchen, wets a cloth and gently begins to dab at the back of my head. I flinch as the extra pressure hurts terribly. "Sorry," he apologises as he continues to clean. "You really need to be more careful, Peeta." I understand the subtext. Don't say anything to upset her. You know what she's like. I nod my head, inhaling sharply as the movement causes a fresh wave of pain. "Here," he says, handing the cloth to me. "I've cleaned it as best as I can, hold that on it if you can. Back in a minute."

He leaves the kitchen, quietly closing the door behind him. I tense up, preparing for the inevitable, and sure enough it comes after just a few minutes. Raised voices drift back to me from somewhere in the house, voices that become more and more heated with every passing moment. I try to stand but my head pulses angrily and feeling dizzy I slump back down in my seat, unable to escape to a place of solitude.

The voices rise to a peak and I hear heavy footsteps rushing towards the kitchen. The door opens with a bang and mum is standing in front of me, face like a storm. Our eyes meet for a moment, but I am unable to hold her gaze. Without a word she grabs her coat, is out the hall and slams the front door, rattling the entire house. A few moments later my father follows her, closing the door quietly behind him, so I am left alone in the house. My head is pounding and I'm feeling a little dizzy again so I rest my head in my arms on the kitchen table.

I start to daydream about the other lands dad told us about in his make-believe stories; a world without hurt, without fear, without pain…. I wonder how life would be if fear wasn't such an every day emotion. Not just fear of the Capitol who hold our very lives in their hands, but fear of supposed loved ones too. It seems such an alien concept.

I am overcome with tiredness. I climb unsteadily to my feet, fighting against the waves of dizziness that threaten to push me back down. It takes longer than usual to climb the stairs; more than once I have to grab the bannisters to steady myself and take a deep breath before I am able to continue.

I pause on the threshold of my bedroom, closing my eyes briefly. Images from this morning come back to me and the feeling of being used returns a hundred fold. Staggering to the bed I do my best to push the images away, but as soon as I collapse on top of the bed I can smell her scent and she fills my mind once again. Empty tears stream down my face as I fall in to a troubled sleep.

When I awake the sun is streaming in through my opened window. My eyes flutter open. I'm under the covers; dad must have found me asleep on top of them and put me to bed. I'm usually a light sleeper so it surprises me that he was able to do this without waking me. I rub the sleep out of the corners of my eyes and groggily sit up straight.

My brother, Rhees, is sat at the end of the bed watching me. "Welcome back, little bro," he says with a lop-sided grin on his face. "We were worried about you there."

"Wha-what are you doing here?" I ask through a yawn.

"Looking after you, dummy!" he says with a laugh. I reach behind me, grab a pillow and chuck it straight at his head. He catches it and says, "Alright, you get one freebie. 'Cause you've been ill. Normal days you know I'd win you."

"What do you mean, I've been ill?"

"You've been asleep nearly two days. We've been taking turns keeping an eye on you. Mrs Everdeen said it was something to do with that blow to your noggin. You kept waking up briefly but falling asleep again. She said as long as you weren't having a fit you should be ok. So we've all had to take it in turns to make sure you weren't fitting."

"Just my luck it's your ugly mug I see when I wake up."

"Strike two buddy. One more and I don't care how ill you've been," he says with a wink. "You want anything?"

My mouth is so parched. "Water," I say. He returns momentarily with a glass that I gratefully sip at. "Two days?" Rhees nods confirmation. I sip a little more water. "Who was here?" I ask.

"Me and dad, obviously. Kern's been here a couple of times. Mrs Everdeen." He pauses and says with a knowing smile, "Katniss."

I can't breathe. "Katniss was here?"

"She's hardly left."

I don't know how to take this news. Was she feeling guilt perhaps? Surely she wouldn't have come here out of altruism? No. Her actions towards me have shown she is incapable. But then why?

"And….mum?"

I see Rhees's hands ball up into fists. "She's been staying with the Cronins, Said you attacked her, and that she acted in self-defence."

"And people believe that?" I ask incredulously.

"Not the ones that matter."

I am mortified. Utterly mortified that anyone would possibly believe me capable of attacking anyone. I never liked the Cronin family. They owned the butcher shop, and their son, Rafe, was the year above me at school and notorious as a bully. As far as I was concerned they were all welcome to each other.

"So what did happen?" asks Rhees.

"I uhhh… I told her to piss off."

"Bloody hell, Peet, were you feeling suicidal?"

"Something like that."

He doesn't press me for an answer. Instead he comes closer and pulls me in to a hug. "It's good to see you back, little bro. I'll go get dad; he'll want to know you're awake."

Rhees leaves me alone giving me a minute or so to reflect. Two days? Gone? Which would mean the Reaping takes place tomorrow. Which means that once again Katniss and I will be pretending to be a blissfully happy couple. Even after our first return from the Capitol, when I learned that she had been acting for the cameras to gain sympathy, I understood her motivations which meant forgiveness came as well. But this… This took a different kind of slyness. The worst part of it is I find myself wanting to forgive her. The longing I have has been a part of me for so long, I fear that I would feel alone without it.

Dad bursts in the room. He looks tired and haggard; he clearly hasn't been sleeping well. "Thank god, son," he exclaims, pulling me in to a hug. "I thought I was going to lose you again. Don't let me lose you again."

He holds me close to him, and I can feel him shaking as the tears escape. I recall last year as we said our goodbyes; he held me this way and I had promised I wouldn't make him ashamed to be my father. He told me he was more proud of me than I could imagine. Neither of us ever thought we would see the other again. It was a far cry from the goodbye I received from my mother who instead moaned about the increased workload my death would equal, and how having to take on a member of staff that would require paying would cut in to their profits.

After a while he pulls away from me. "If you feel able, you should come and eat. Get your strength back."

I dress myself slowly, my muscles aching from lack of use. The smells of fresh bread and savoury cooking drift up the stairs and my stomach growls in anticipation.

I enter the kitchen. Dad, Rhees and Mrs Everdeen are sat around the table. They all look up at me as I come in, but it is Mrs Everdeen who speaks. "It's good to see you, Peeta," she smiles.

I sit down next to my brother where a steaming hot bowl of leek and potato soup and three slices of buttered toast await me. I about to launch in to it when Mrs Everdeen warns, "Not too quickly. You could make yourself sick."

She's right of course, but I still resent taking advice from the mother of the girl who causes me so much heartache.

The soup has an incredible rejuvenating effect on me. With each mouthful I feel more and more myself. Mrs Everdeen watches me eat every last bite, and once I have finished she says, "How are you feeling, Peeta?"

"Fine," I reply.

"No headaches?"

"No."

"No memory loss? Or confusion?"

"Unless you count the last two missing days, no."

"No loss of vision? Or tinnitus?"

"No."

She smiles. "Well, I think you should be ok. I'll tell Katniss you're awake, she'll want to see you."

"No," I say firmly. Everyone stares at me. "I'll see her tomorrow."

Mrs Everdeen looks unsure of what to say. She politely excuses herself and leaves. Dad follows her out of the room while I stay seated at the table, staring fixedly ahead of me.

When dad returns he says, "I don't know what you two argued about, but that girl has hardly left your side for the last thirty six hours." I shift uncomfortably in my seat. "Don't think I've ever seen her so worried," he continues.

I don't know what to say or think. More confirmation of what Rhees said earlier. That Katniss has been looking after me. Maybe that is the only way I'll ever get her true attention; by being an invalid needing care. Anything else is just fake.

Speaking of fake… The Capitol. Two days gone, the Reaping tomorrow…. Which leaves me only a single day of normality before being thrust once again into the public eye. One more day before I have to watch at least three people I know die horrific deaths. I won't be able to turn the television off this time, no chance of turning away and pretending it isn't happening. I almost feel more nervous than I did after my own name was pulled from the Reaping balls last year. And so I determine to spend that last day of normality with the people who I know love me, who want nothing from me, who have no hidden agendas or that use me as a piece in their own games. My family.

A/N – Sorry! I know I promised you the Reaping last time. But somehow this chapter got written instead. The Reaping is coming up soon though, I promise! Please leave a review, as they feed my hungry muse :)