"PEETA PEETA PEETA?"

I didn't mean to hurt them, they're dead, it's not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, Katniss, I didn't mean to, Please Katniss I'm sorry, the screams, make the scream stop, please make them stop. That's when I started to see black; the screams erupted from around me. The capitol had caused this. Why am I so cold, it's so dark, where am I please... Please help me I'm afraid. - The dead were screaming my name, the blood curdling screams were booming in my ears, I can't move, LET ME GO. Then without a warning the screaming stopped, the pain stopped, Katniss stopped, and I... stopped too.

My head hazed back and forth into consciousness, the melancholy gloomy walls spinning around, and around, and around and around. When I awoke I just continued to stare at the door, it was an inch open. The temptation to just get out of the bed to see what's outside was gnawing at my mind, I had tried countless times to only be betrayed by my head, the wooziness and haziness claimed me just as I had managed to push myself up. I couldn't get up if I tried. I just continued to stare around the room. It had no windows; the room was dark, the only light was coming from the door at the other side of the room. All that was keeping me away was the little crack emitting light.

I could hear arguing outside the room, hushed voices, trying not to wake someone; I think they were talking about me. I caught words every now and then; I chose not to listen them, and to forget. The darkness clouded around the edges of my vision, dark tendrils spiralling before my eyes and then... peace.

Awake once more, it seems I'm being refused sleep by myself, my stomach aches like I haven't eaten in a while, It couldn't be though, I had just eaten with Cato, I had cooked breakfast hours previous. The voices outside had long since stopped, I was left alone in the silence.

Foxface... Nightlock... Katniss. There was so much blood, she had made me do it, she made me do it. She made me do it. She made me do it. It isn't my fault, it isn't my fault. Screaming, stop screaming. Stop screaming you're going to wake everyone up. Stop screaming, it wasn't your fault.

I begged the darkness to come and make the agony go away, to numb the pain. I wasn't calmed by the darkness around my eyes, but the opening of the door. My eyes were instantly blinded from the light, and as soon as the darkness had been pushed away from me, the warm sensation of liquid pouring through my body released me. How many times did I have to go through this before I could even manage to sit myself up? How many times before I could even see my Cato? Cato...

I counted myself lucky as the aching awareness of being awake came to me, I felt just plain useless as the exact same feeling carried through me. The room however had stopped. The sickening spin had halted, was this my chance? I put my hands on either edge of the bed, gripping the sheets. The throbbing that came with the movement hadn't accompanied me. I had taken my chance, I pushed with the little strength I had, and I managed to force myself up-right.

The haziness tried to fog my mind once more, but I wouldn't let it, the adrenaline pumping through my veins from just simply sitting up and all but been enough to fuel getting out of the room. I slowly twisted my body, letting my legs dangle off the edge of the bed.

Once they had been placed on the floor, the chill sensation shot up my leg, it was then I noticed the thin hospital gown I was wearing. Reality came crashing down on me, how stupid was I to not even see what was happening. I was too busy focusing on trying to stay conscience to even understand that I hadn't physically placed myself in this dark god-forsaken room. Something had gone wrong, had I gone wrong? Was I broken? I wasn't broken, I couldn't be broken. Cato. We were meant to be having the time of our lives. Romantic dinners, cheesy cuddling sessions, we were meant to be starting again and what had I done? Ruined it.

I was in the hospital, not out while Cato fussed about his outfit; we weren't being completely lazy cuddling in bed. I was alone, cold, and I needed to find him.

Once I was sure that I could walk properly I leant on my bed and stood up. I wobbled precariously but I managed to stay up-right. I took a step without the support of my bed, all was fine... The door was within a couple steps distance; I slowly made my way there, ignoring the fuzziness of my brain. I placed my hands on the door-knob and with a breath, let the light of the hospital flood into the little room, and by doing so, blinding me.

It took me a little while for my eyes to adjust to my surroundings. This was District Two's hospital alright; the hallway screamed with silence, and I was learning to really quickly hate it. I was in a long hallway, rooms were littered along each side, each room most likely housing a broken man or women. The was floor overly polished, like the cleaners had declared war on every single surface that had existed. The resemblance to the Capitol's pristine style was frightening; I didn't think any more of it. For my sake, I didn't plan on being a broken little boy for any longer, for Cato – wherever he was. I wasn't going to lie when I was a slight bit disappointed when Cato hadn't been my bedside. Jesus Cato where the fuck are you? Crap hospitals creeped me the hell out.

I looked either way of the corridor, both ending in double doors. I turned left facing my decision and started to rush as fast as I could, I was determined to see my Cato. I hadn't even made it the whole way before a doctor had casually stumbled through the right sided double doors. I turned to see her, her eyes meeting mine, she didn't even look surprised that I was awake, she just continued to look at me as she made her way too me.

"Peeta Mellark, I assume?"

"Wha –"

"Nice to know, I'll be your Doctor, How are you feeling? " She stated, as though she was reading a passage of a manual she had memorised.

"Where's Cato, What's happened, and why was –"

"Perhaps we should talk about this in your room Mr Mellark?"

"Are you kidding me? I'm not going back to that room! Do you guys ever turn on the freaking lights in there? I've been trying to get out for ages to see someone and there's been no one the-"

"That's because you've been unconscious for most of your stay, we had our eye on you anyways Mr Mellark, now calm down, we have other patients here that are trying to sleep. "

I could feel the rage boil up inside me, the feeling that I just wanted to make that woman listen to me, I guess I'm not as different as I had thought from Cato.

"Let me explain doctor, I –"

"Mr Mellark I must insist that—"

"No listen, I've had enough. What's going to happen is that I'm going to put on some real clothes, and I'm going to see my Cato. Now."

"Mr Mellark if you don't accompany me for some tests, we'll have someone come to restrain you, your choice."

I could feel my fists clench tight, my knuckles turning white at how firm I had been struggling to hold back my fists from making connections with her face. Memories scattered across my mind had been suddenly brought back through her words.

President Snow, threatening me, warning me. I hadn't even had a chance to stop from the games. I now know that it's never going to stop, it may look different, but it's still there. I held my funeral at District Twelve, the reaping. They shouldn't even pretend that you can win; at least some of the starving people could have some food, even if it is for a little while.

Haymitch, people would have thought that surviving the hunger games against all odds was impossible; people would have thought that my mentor would have been proud of me. Wrong, his face was nothing but disappointed. What I had done... I – I was nothing but inconvenience for him. He had actually liked her more than he let on, more than he had ever liked me. It seems that people just liked her more in general.

I – I... What am I doing? I need to be strong, I need to forget, forget about it all.

"Mr Mellark?" The doctor's voice had changed, she seemed to be actually sorry for me, she seemed to actually want the best for me. She placed her hands on my shoulders, steadying me; I must have been getting shaky.

"I know this must be frightening for you; I know you must be afraid. Please, come with me. All we need to do is to do some tests, if everything goes to plan, we can have you on your way as soon as possible. You can see your friend very soon, what do you say Mr Mellark, are you going to cooperate? "

"I - ... Yes. Please just. Please lead the way"

A smile grazed her lips; she placed her arm on my back leading me towards the left-side double doors. "This way Mr Mellark, it's just through here"

I wobbled as fast as I could, although I couldn't get those thoughts out of my head. What tests did I need to do? I just walked alongside her, hoping that whatever was going to happen, that I was going to be allowed to go soon.

We pushed through the double doors, allowing a whole new side of the hospital to open up, and when I mean 'whole new side' I mean the same exact overly polished floor, the walls – a shimmering fortification, but instead of rooms for people who needed to stay for more than a quick check-up, there was much bigger rooms, one in which, we were heading to.

She led me to a room closest to the double doors, opened it and directed me inside. It wasn't as I had expected. It wasn't filled with intimidating, cold machinery. It wasn't overly polished, or built with shimmering walls. It actually looked comfortable. It had shaggy carpet, two snug looking chairs which I guess are for us, and furniture which made it look like a regular old room. Then after I felt much more at ease. It struck me. My doctor was a therapist. She's a doctor for people with mental illnesses. I didn't show any reaction on my face, I kept it hidden.

"Please have a seat Mr Mellark, get comfortable, I'm just going to ask you some questions."

I collapsed in the chair; it was as comfortable as it looked, although I remembered not to get too comfortable for two reasons. One I knew that she thought I was crazy, I wasn't crazy, I wasn't, and I also knew that this 'thing' I was wearing had no bottom to it and I was wearing no underwear.

"Mr Mellark, I just wanted to ask you, I know that you recently participated in the Hunger games, we know that the games can come with certain... effects. We need to ask you if you've been able to sleep lately or if you've been having troubles."

"I have nightmares, I can see everyone that... that... I can see them at night. It doesn't just happen at night though. It happens all of the time, I can't help it. "

"Tell me more."

"It happens all of a sudden, I could be doing anything, I'll just be sitting there, and then... everything goes black, I can hear screaming, I think it's the people, but sometimes I get afraid that it's actually me who's doing the screaming, I feel so trapped. I find it hard to breathe, I feel like someone's standing on my chest. Doctor... why am I here? What happened?"

"Well I'm afraid Mr Mellark, from what we've heard from your 'friend' that you had an attack. He told us that while you two were in bed, he must have triggered it; he tells us that you started to scream, he tried to calm you down but you were flailing around. Normally in these cases you would have calmed down and everything would have returned back to ... 'normal', but it seems you had it severe, we had to keep you in for a little while."

"How long is a little while?" I burst out.

"Two days Mr Mellark. You wouldn't stop flailing, and beating anyone who got near you that we had to drug you. It was only two days until you returned back to your normal state and we were able to talk to you." She said casually. She had just been sitting there on the chair directly opposite me, legs crossed, clipboard in hand, I was just another patient to her.

"Only two days? I ruined our first day back together as normal people, I not only ruined our first day, but I wasn't around for the second day. How can you say that it was only two days? That was meant to be the beginning, the start to starting again, a new district. A new life. But I've gone from being a coward to a murderer, now I'm just a lunatic who has to be contained in a hospital." I shouted, I had stood up to tower over her. " It wasn't just two days for me Doctor. Now if you've finished your 'tests' I would rather have some of my real clothes please so I can get the hell out of he - "

"PTSD" she shouted, also rising.

"...What?"

"You've got PTSD Mr Mellark, post-traumatic stress disorder, brought on by your games, no-doubt about that. I've been trying to be friendly, now if you stop freaking out, I can make you understand that having breakdowns, black-outs and having attack like you did wasn't normal. Now if you excuse me we have your 'friend' screaming down the phone to our hospital about you." She vented, the words impaling me like a blade.

I stopped mid-way of thinking a way of getting her to let me go, but I just stopped. Post-traumatic stress disorder... I had to be drugged. My attack wasn't normal. Perhaps it was too late for me to stop myself from being broken; I couldn't stop myself from causing people pain. I ruined everything, I had destroyed everything. It was my fault, my entire fault.

"Mr Mellark?" she whispered, her eyes fixated on me." I'm sorry for my out-burst, but perhaps you should go lay-down, you've gone pale. Are you having an attack Mr Mellark?" She checked my pulse on my wrist before looking deep into my eyes. Before she could pull something out of her pocket, I grabbed her wrist.

"I'm fine Doctor. I'm completely fine." I lied, my best attempt at making my voice devoid in pain.

If you're so fine Mr Mellark then perhaps you can let go of my wrist." She gasped I immediately let go, looking at the marks I had left.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." I panicked, I don't hurt people, I won't hurt people.

She rubbed her wrist where I had been clutching at her, "Mr Mellark I think it's clear to say we shouldn't be letting you go just yet. It's not safe to you... and other people.

I just collapsed back onto the chair, gripping my hands on my head.

My fault .My fault. My fault. My fault.