Well, here is the next chapter. Enjoy!

Chapter 8:

The Confrontation

To say my plan succeeded would be putting it lightly.

After returning from Haymitch's cottage, I was confronted by Mother at the door. I was surprised she even remembered she had a third daughter. As the middle child of three girls, I tended to be overlooked by my Mother. Father was the one who would tuck me in at night, sing lullabies for me, and be there to pick me up if I fell. Mother on the other hand would only acknowledge me if I did something intriguing or happened to be interacting with one of my sisters.

After Father died, she walled herself off to us and forgot about my existence completely. She would occasionally speak to Katniss or Prim, choosing to ignore me entirely. At first this bothered me. I didn't like being disregarded by the only living parent I had left. As the years wore on, I gave up caring about being acknowledged and focused my efforts on my sisters. They were my family now and that was all that mattered to me. If someone asked me, I would say I didn't have a Mother. It is cold but I wouldn't be lying either. I haven't had a Mother since Father died and I preferred it that way.

This is why I found it funny that Mother would chose now of all times to try to fix her relationship with me. Her worried expression does nothing to alleviate my humor of the situation as I follow her into the kitchen. Leaning against the only wall, I cross my arms over my chest trying not to snicker at she fidgets under my glare. "What do you want Mother?"

"Where have you been Nightlock? I was worried." Her concerned mutterings just make me laugh. Was she serious? She frowns as I laugh at her, not understanding why I find her concern for my well being funny.

"Come on, Cameron." An offended gasp escapes my Mother at hearing me say her first name. I try my best not to snigger as I continue. "Stop pretending you actually care about me when you don't. I have more important things to worry about then you trying to go all Mother on me." I glance at Katniss to emphasize my point.

"Now you listen to me young lady. I am your Mother and I deserve some respect from you." Her scolding tone does not have the desired effect on me that she wishes.

I cast a dirty look in her direction, frowning at her foolish attempt to sound domineering. She came off appearing more as a spoiled child used to getting her way then a concerned parent. Was this what my Mother was like when living with her merchant parents? I shudder at the thought, thankful I have nothing in common with her. I quickly come to the decision that it would be smarter to keep quiet and let her think she has won, even if she deserves to be put in her place.

Apparently my silence isn't well received. Her insistent tone aggravates my already frazzled nerves as she grabs my arm. "You will look at me when I am talking to you, Nightlock." Her scalding words fuel my seething anger at her audacity to touch me. If there is one thing I can't stand, it is people manhandling me like I am some plaything.

I rip my arm away from her, glowering angrily in her direction. "Don't touch me, Cameron." My hand pushes her away from me, not caring if she gets hurt. "I refuse to talk to you when you are acting like a child." My body turns to leave as Mother tries to grasp her bearings while I decide to be the adult in this conversation. The nerve of that woman to try to make me seem like the guilty party when she is the one at fault. I exit the kitchen before I do something I might regret, calling back as I open the front door. "By the way, I was at Haymitch Abernathy's trying to get help for Katniss." With those parting words, I slam the door.

Not quite wanting to stick around the cottage, I walk towards the Merchants' quarters. I decide to allow my feet to carry me wherever they will, not having a chosen course. I had allowed my anger to rule me much to my dismay. I had let Mother get to me for the first time in a year. The self-control I had worked so hard to build up had shattered in a matter of minutes. Have I been under so much stress lately that my walls were caving under pressure? The thought frightened me. What if I had snapped at Prim?

"Hey Nightlock!"

I look up quickly, not prepared to see Peeta Mellark's smiling face. My attempt to return his smile fails, the depressing thoughts running through my mind not easily rid of. I must have the bakery as my autopilot destination. This is something I must fix immediately. "Hi Peeta." My reply is utterly pathetic. I mentally kick myself for appearing weak in front of him.

If I want him to be with Katniss, I can't have him showing any concern for me. This would immediately result in Katniss refusing to develop any interest in him if by chance she saw us. Her nobility towards Prim and I is frustrating at times. If she thought I had affection for Peeta, she would honorably step aside despite her own feelings. Now I have to come up with a plausible reason for him to leave me alone without drawing too much attention to myself.

With a bit of effort, I weakly cry out in pain as I grasp my wrist, hoping it will explain the lack of joyful response to Peeta's greeting and allow me to continue on my way. Of course, this backfires on me before I think my entire plan through. Peeta drops the broom I hadn't noticed he was holding and rushes to my side. He guides me over to the porch in front of the bakery, forcing me to sit down as he examines the wrist I had been holding. I wince as he applies pressure through the wrapping. As he does this, I find it amusing that I was smart enough to use the one actually sprained. At least I wasn't completely lying about being injured.

"It doesn't appear to be broken, Nightlock." He rubs the back of my hand as his blue eyes meet my grey ones. I swallow, a lump forming in my throat. Why did he always have to affect me like this? Tears begin to blur my vision as I resist the urge to cry in front of the boy I felt so strongly for. He was Katniss's, not mine. Peeta Mellark would never be mine.

His panicked expression gives me the strength to force a watery smile to reach my lips. "I think it is just sprained," I murmur quietly through my tears. Peeta seems to believe my tears are a result of the pain from my wrist and saves me from the humiliation of lying. I hate feeling so exposed around him.

"How did this happen?" His gentle coaxing makes me flush with embarrassment as his words send my thoughts whirling. How was I going to explain this?

I frantically try to come up with a scenario but nothing comes to mind. Knowing that the truth is always better than a lie, I decide to be honest with him. I smile sheepishly at him despite the tears that begin to fall. Stupid emotions. "I got into a fight with a Peacekeeper." I look down, ashamed at myself for the rashness in my decision despite the reasoning behind it. Why did I have to be so pig headed sometimes?

He laughs, his hand brushing the underside of my chin. I blush deeply, not understanding why he is touching me. Normally, I would yell at whoever had the nerve to lay a hand on me. However, Peeta was different. I couldn't think coherently once his hand came in contact with my skin, sending my heart into a beating frenzy.

He forces me to look up at him, his blue eyes dancing with mirth. "Only you would have the spirit to challenge a Peacekeeper in this district."

My blush deepens under his gaze, my skin tingling with his words. Did he just call me brave or foolhardy? I am unsure if he is complimenting me for my daring or scolding me for being foolish to talk back. Licking my lips, I gently prod him for his reasoning. "Are you making fun of me, Peeta?"

I don't like that I might be falling deeper for my sister's boy with the bread. What hurts even more is that I know I am overreacting to his presence when he means nothing by his words or actions. I was only a friend to him, at most like a little sister. I pull away from him before he answers, not liking the intimate position we were in.

Peeta seems to understand I need space as he stands, picking up the broom he had dropped when rushing to my side. With his back to me, I can't see his face and am unable to figure out how he feels about the situation. "Is it so hard for you to believe that someone is concerned about your wellbeing, Nightlock?" His calm words catch me by surprise, triggering a sense of loss I hadn't known I could feel.

My hands are shaking as I force my legs to stand. I can't do this. My head is spinning from his words as I try to grapple control over my emotions. I want to run over and hug him, burying my face in his shirt as I cry my heart out. My body tightens as I fight these urges, knowing I can never give in to these silly whims. Peeta is not mine, he is Katniss's.

Katniss. That's right. Haymitch should be over at the cottage now talking to Katniss. More like yelling at her if I know him. I giggle slightly as the image of Haymitch drunkenly yelling at Katniss comes to mind, slurs and all. Taking a deep breath, I try to calm myself down and focus on my sister. She was what mattered most to me. My feelings weren't important right now. I had to get back to make sure this plan worked and it would best for me to leave before I do something I regret.

Knowing it is rude to leave without saying goodbye, I call out as I turn in the direction of the Victors' Village. "Thank you for all your help, Peeta!" I don't wait to see if he responds as I take off running, realizing I have to get back as soon as possible.

Within minutes, I am standing in front of the Victors' Village, staring at Katniss's cottage. I take a deep breath before marching over to the front door and pushing it open. The sight that greets me shocks me to the core. Prim is sitting on the steps; Buttercup nestled in her arms, crying. Mother is huddled on the couch, sobbing into her hands. What could have happened while I was away? Rushing over to Prim before I can stop myself, I touch her shoulder in concern. "Prim?"

Her teary blue eyes look up into mine, her bottom lip quivering as she clutches the cat to her chest. "He won't stop yelling at her, Lock." Her tears get the best of me as I kneel and pull her into my arms, completely forgetting about the hell beast that lay on her lap.

"How long has this been going on?" I gently prod her for answers, hoping to figure out how ended up in crying.

Prim shakes her head, tears leaving trails down her cheeks as she speaks. "A while I guess. I came home to Mother huddled on the couch, sobbing." She looks in the direction of the kitchen before continuing. "Then I heard yelling in the kitchen. I was scared, so I went to check it out. I'm sorry Lock. I couldn't stop him." More tears escape her as she mumbles the last words. "He wouldn't stop yelling at Katniss, Lock. I'm scared he might hurt her."

I smile gently before kissing her hair. Releasing my hold on her, I stand before she can stop me. I give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, hoping it will calm her down. "I will fix this, Prim. I promise." Haymitch wouldn't hurt me, I was sure of it. Even if he was drunk, he wouldn't hurt anyone. He was just scary when he got himself worked up.

"But Night-"

I shake my head and chose to ignore her protests as I place a finger to my lips to emphasize my desire for her to be quiet. "I know what I am doing Prim." With those parting words, I walk towards the kitchen bracing myself for the scene that will greet me. Haymitch is standing over Katniss, yelling at her to get her act together. Katniss is still in the position I left her hours before, staring out the kitchen window blankly in her chair.

"Kid, you can't stay like this. You need to toughen up and deal with your problems."

Leaning against the door frame, I watch Haymitch try to coax a reaction out of Katniss. I wanted to believe he would have the desired effect I wanted, to bring Katniss back to us. Sadly, he seemed to have the same reaction from her as the rest of us got, utter silence. Tears that I had been fighting since I left the cottage the first time finally escaped me. Why won't she come back to us?

"Damn it, Katniss. You can't keep running. Do you want to end up a hopeless drunk like me?" He laughs, leaning against the counter top to prevent him from falling over. "Don't be like me, sweetheart. I saw a fighter in you on that train. Don't make me regret saving her in the games." He clutches the edge of the counter, tightening his grip until his knuckle turns white.

I can't take watching this anymore. Standing, I march over to where Katniss is sitting as tears blur my vision. I can feel Haymitch's eyes on me, almost watching to make sure I don't do anything stupid. Clenching my unwrapped fist, I slap her before I can stop myself. I cry out in pain as my injured wrapped wrist comes in contact with her skin despite biting my lip to muffle it.

Shaking, my entire body is seething with the anger I feel towards my older sister. "If you won't listen to any of us, listen to Haymitch. He has been through the same things as you Katniss. The only difference is you still have us." I send a regretful look at Haymitch, whose eyes shine with the pain of my words. "But if you continue like this, you will lose us too Katniss."

I back away, still shaking with anger. My words have a sharp edge to them as I scream at her. "I won't let you hurt them anymore, even if I have to leave District 12 with Prim. Goodbye Katniss." I can only hope my words will have the effect I wish as I dart out of the kitchen and grab Prim's hand. I drag her forcefully towards the front door and wrench it open.

"Lock, where are we going?"

I ignore her protests as I pull her outside, slamming the door behind us. It had to be like this. If I wanted to get through to Katniss, I had to be unwilling to compromise. I grit my teeth as I mumble, "To the Seam Prim."

The walk back to our old house is quiet. Neither of us has the strength to talk as we walk through the Merchants quarters and passed people rushing home for dinner. I squeeze Prim's hand reassuringly as we enter the Seam, walking the short distance to our old porch. Pushing the door open, I look around the small living area and kitchen that had been home to me for as long as I can remember. I pull Prim inside and shut the door, collapsing in a chair in a fit of tears.

Prim hugs me and rubs my back as I give into my sorrow and fears. I cry for what seems like hours as Prim holds me, being the strong one for the both of us. I was so sick of being the strong one, of taking care of everyone else before myself. It was frightening that something like slapping my sister could send me over the edge.

A knock at the door makes me jump as I watch Prim walk over to answer it. Katniss is standing in the doorway as the door opens, her cheeks wet with tears as she stares sorrowfully at me. Her entire frame is trembling as she collapses; regret reflecting off of her in waves. I swallow before launching myself into her arms, hysterically crying. Prim joins us, her tears joining ours as we hug each other desperately. Our sister was back.

"Welcome back, Kit-Kat."