A/N: Wow! I must say it again folks, you guys are amazing. I have the best readers in the world. Yep. You heard me. Best ever.
And so, because you are so awesome, I have a treat for you! Yep! That's right! Creepy dream sequence! It's creepy, but not the creepiest. Nope, I saved the scarily-disturbing-check-yourself-into-the-psych-ward nightmares for Mockingjay. Just to let you know what's to come. ;)
Movie quote for today's disclaimer comes from The Avengers.
Random Disclaimer: I do not own CF, though I do own a rather fantastic fedora; "Think you used enough dynamite there, Butch?"; "Why is the rum always gone?"; "Why so serious?"; "I'll get you my pretty! And your little dog, too!"; "I am Asneeze, father of Achoo."; "Dobby did not mean to kill . . . only to maim . . . or seriously injure."; "My precious!"; "Puny god"
Chapter 8
I'm in a long, brightly lit hallway. A finely woven carpet covers the floor and the walls are a neutral, but warm beige. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling at intervals, casting reflective rainbows. The entire atmosphere around me emanates elegance and royalty. It occurs to me that I must be in the president's mansion.
Fear begins to seep into my bones as the reality of my situation sinks in. Why am I here? How did I get here? A loud bang echoes through the hallway that makes my heart stop. A gunshot. I whirl around, my eyes darting everywhere as I try and figure out where the shot came from.
Suddenly, the walls begin to change color, a deep, bright red seeping through until it's dripping to the floor. I take a step back, and hear the telltale splash of when you step in a puddle. I glance down and see that my foot is covered in red. The puddle is red.
Blood.
I jump back away from the puddle, only to step into another, and then another. The entire floor is pooling with blood. The walls are continuing to bleed, trickles of blood flowing down to the floor. Something wet lands on my head, and I look up toward the ceiling only to have a drop of blood land on my face.
The ceiling is bleeding too.
Horrified, I begin to run down the hall, seeking an escape, ignoring the sloshing of the blood as I wade through it. It's up to my knees and the ceiling is bleeding faster and faster. It's like rain. Blood rain. I hurry faster, the blood slowly rising. My eyes dart everywhere but all I see is red. The walls, the floor, the ceiling. The entire hallway is flooded with blood.
And then a door appears in front of me. Desperate to escape, I hurl myself toward the door and quickly open it before shutting it behind me. I'm shaking and fighting the urge to vomit, the metallic scent in the air is so strong.
"I was wondering when you would come." My head snaps up and I'm staring into the eyes of President Snow. He's dressed as immaculately as always, a coal black suit with a white dress shirt and a black tie. His white hair is brushed back, not a strand out of place.
His too-full lips suddenly part in a menacing smile, and I notice that he has a gun in his hand. He's the one who fired the shot. "Oh, look at you," he says. "Covered in blood."
I glance down at myself. From head to toe I'm drenched in blood, and it's slowly pooling at my feet as it drips off my clothes. For some reason, my hair is not in its usual braid, instead hanging loose and flowing down my back. But right now, it looks more red than black, tiny drops of blood slowly dripping from the strands.
"It's too bad it's not yours," Snow says before his eyes move to the middle of the room, and my gaze follows his.
I scream.
"Peeta!"
Immediately, I'm on my knees at his side. A dark pool of blood surrounds him. His skin is too pale. His eyes are wide and sightless. And there's a hole right in the middle of his forehead.
"No," I moan, feeling my heart shatter. "No, no, no, no, no . . ." Tears spring into my eyes and pour down my cheeks as I shake him. "Peeta!" Sobs are overtaking me as I fruitlessly try to shake him awake. "Peeta! Come on, you can't leave me! You promised! You . . . you promised . . ." I whisper brokenly. Peeta remains lifeless. "Please," I plead. "Peeta!"
Snow's cruel laughter causes me to spin to face him. "Why?" I screech, the pain of losing Peeta filling me with a level of fury that I've never known.
Snow looks at me like he's confused. "Well, obviously you didn't want him."
"I love him!" I scream. "You bastard! You killed him!"
"No," Snow shakes his head. "You did, Katniss. This is all your fault. If you had only married him . . . why didn't you, anyway? If you loved him so much."
"I-I didn't want to . . . to have the choice made for me," I whisper. "I-It's not my fault. You killed him."
"Don't try to blame this on me," Snow says, waving the gun in his hand. "This is all your fault, Katniss. All you had to do was marry the man you loved."
"I do—"
"Oh, it's too late for that."
Snow begins to laugh, and suddenly the blood from the hallway rushes into the room, sweeping me off my feet. I cough as the blood gets into my mouth and my nose as I struggle to keep my head above the rising level of blood. The red sea continues to rise until the entire room is almost full to the ceiling, and I have little to no more air.
And then the blood, Peeta's blood, engulfs me entirely and I'm in a world of red as I slowly drown . . .
I awake with a gasp, sucking in a lungful full of air. I'm drenched in a light sheen of sweat, Peeta t-shirt clinging to my overheated skin. My eyes are wide as I try to regain control of my breathing, telling myself that I'm not drowning in Peeta's blood.
Peeta.
I'm on my feet and out the door in two seconds. Peeta's room is only three doors down, and I don't even bother to knock. I push the door open so hard that it bounces off the wall and still has enough momentum to shut behind me. I hardly notice this though because I practically jump on Peeta in my haste to make sure he's not dead.
Big mistake.
Peeta's arm shoots out, wraps around my waist, and I'm flipped onto my back as he pins me to the bed, his hand around my throat. His eyes are wild and I know that he's still in that state between nightmare and reality. "Peeta!" I gasp.
Almost immediately, recognition flickers in Peeta's eyes, but it's quickly overcome by shock and then horror. Within the next second, he lets me go and rolls off me. Both of us are quiet for a minute before he lets out a shaky breath, "Did I hurt you?"
"No," I answer, pleased when my voice comes out relatively strong.
Peeta doesn't reply. He doesn't even look at me, and I don't know which one of us feels guiltier in this moment. I shouldn't have jumped on him like that. He has nightmares about his fights with Cato and the boy from District 4 far too often and he's always ready for a fight the moment he wakes up. And then I'm also feeling guilty because he's feeling guilty and it's all my fault.
All my fault. I shiver as my nightmare comes back to me.
"Peeta." I prop myself up on my elbow and lay a gentle hand on his bare shoulder. "Peeta, it's okay."
"No it's not," Peeta whispers, shaking his head. "It's not okay."
"I'm fine," I assure him, though I'm getting aggravated that he won't look at me. "Will you look at me? See for yourself. I'm fine."
Slowly, Peeta turns his head and tormented blue eyes study my face before traveling down to stare at my neck. Hesitantly, he raises his hand to my neck, trembling slightly, before brushing his fingertips along my skin so gently that I can barely feel it.
"See?" I say as his hand drops. "I'm fine."
"I'm sorry, Katniss," Peeta apologizes softly, his voice laden with guilt and self-loathing. "I'm so sorry."
"I'm the one that should be sorry," I tell him as I curl up closer to him, resting my head on his shoulder and throwing an arm over his waist. I ignore how he tenses briefly. "I shouldn't have jumped you like that. I just . . . I had to make sure that . . ." I trail off as I remember my nightmare. "You died," I whisper.
"Nightmare." Peeta doesn't say it as a question. He knows the answer. I nod and hold him tighter.
"I drowned in your blood," I tell him, my voice barely audible as I fight back more tears. "Snow killed you, and it was all my fault."
Peeta's arms surround me and my tears threaten to spill as I relish the feeling of his strong, protective embrace. I bury my head into the crook of his neck, and his hold on me tightens briefly.
"I was fighting Cato," he admits. "I'm sorry . . ." he begins to apologize again, but I cut him off.
"Don't apologize," I say, before adding in a rare show of vulnerability. "Just hold me."
Peeta kisses my hair. "I can do that," he whispers, but I hardly hear him because I'm already drifting off to sleep.
Just as I'm about to fall over the edge into unconsciousness, my hand moves to rest on Peeta's chest, right over his heart. I finally allow myself to fall asleep, the feel of his heartbeat beneath my hand reassuring me that he's alive.
I know the moment I wake up that it's midmorning, much later than I would usually sleep. However, I really don't dwell on this fact because Peeta is kissing my neck. And while any other morning, I might surprise him by flipping him onto his back (his reaction is always hilarious), I know that his lips at my neck are not necessarily there for my enjoyment. They're there because he still feels guilty about last night.
My eyes open and I sigh, "Stop feeling guilty."
Peeta looks up at me, "I hurt you."
I scoff. "You couldn't hurt me if you tried, Mellark." Peeta gives me a look, and I know what he's thinking. I would have to resort to some pretty underhanded methods if I ever wanted to beat him in a fight. "Okay," I revise. "You can't hurt me, but not because you're not physically capable, but simply because you would never allow yourself to."
Peeta is still hell-bent on feeling guilty. "Last night—"
"Last night I was stupid and thought it would be a good idea to jump on you, knowing full well that you were probably having a nightmare," I interrupt. "You snapped out of it, Peeta. No harm done. Move on."
"What if I don't snap out of it next time?" Peeta questions and I sigh.
"You will always snap out of it."
"How do you know?"
"Because you love me."
Peeta's lips quirk up into a faint smile. "I do."
"So stop with the guilt-trip because it's getting on my nerves," I tell him and he sighs, relenting.
"Fine."
"Thank you."
"But I should have—"
I groan. "Peeta," I complain. "Will you just shut up?"
In answer Peeta situates himself so that he's propped up on his elbow beside me. "I should have gone after you last night," he says. "That way we would have avoided all of this."
I close my eyes, thinking of last night. "I really didn't want to see you."
"Yeah, which is why I retreated to my room to lick my wounds," Peeta replies and I blanch.
"I'm sorry," I apologize, thinking that last night was the second time Peeta watched me run away from him. "It's not that I don't want to marry you," I say softly. "I do."
"I know why you're mad," Peeta says. "I'm not too thrilled either. This is ruining my plan."
I can't help but smile. "Another plan?"
"I have many plans."
My hand comes up to caress his face, my fingers gliding along his jaw line. "I love you," I say, so softly I wonder if he can hear. "I don't say it enough."
Peeta gives me a sweet kiss. "You tell me every day," he says. "Just not with words." He kisses me again. "A kiss here." His hand sweeps away the hair that's threatening to fall into my eyes. "A touch there." Suddenly, he grins. "How every night, without fail, I will wake up to you snoring right in my ear."
I flush. "That was once! Once! I had a cold."
"And you with the sniffles proved to be extremely adorable," Peeta smiles at the memory. "Red nose. Watery eyes. Smelling of cough syrup. Yeah, that was a great weekend."
I scowl. "I was miserable."
"The great Katniss Everdeen, the Girl on Fire, succumbs to the common cold," Peeta teases, before frowning. "Which you then immediately gave to me."
"And you were just pathetic." I smile.
Peeta shrugs, a dopey grin on his face. "You were taking care of me. I've never seen you fuss like that. It was great."
I blush and shove his shoulder so that he's on his back. "Shut it, Mellark."
"Oh, great. You're calling me by my last name again. Never a good sign."
"You know," I say dryly. "It's times like these when I know that you're related to Rye."
Peeta rolls his eyes. "What are you talking about? I'm way better looking."
"He's funnier," I say.
"I'm smarter."
"He's faster."
"I'm stronger."
"He's a better kisser."
Peeta's eyes cut to me sharply. "He didn't."
I can't help but smile. "He did."
"He's getting punched." Peeta's eyes are glinting with a vengeful, mischievous light so like Rye's I can't help but laugh. "Right in the face."
"It was just a little peck," I assure him. "As a joke. He caught me off guard."
"No, no, no, Katniss you do not understand." Peeta glances at me. "You know, there's a code among brothers. Some lines you do not cross."
"Would it make you feel better if I told you that I already punched him in the face?" I ask, and Peeta grins.
"Did you really?"
"There is only one Mellark that is allowed to kiss me," I say firmly, though I can't help but smile a little at the memory. I don't know what reaction Rye had been expecting, but a punch in the nose wasn't it.
"This is the part where you tell me that that one Mellark is me," Peeta says as he rolls so that he's hovering over me. "Any second now would be great."
In answer, I lean up to kiss him, and I can't help but laugh internally as Peeta immediately deepens the kiss. However, I find that I'm quickly losing the ability to think coherently.
What did I find humorous, again?
Peeta finally pulls away to allow me to breathe, and I look up at him, giving him the answer he wants to hear. "Yes, you are the one, and yes, you are better kisser than Rye."
I can't help but laugh at how Peeta's eyes brighten at my words, but I know him well enough to know that his little tiff with Rye is not over. "You're still going to punch him when we get back, aren't you?"
"Right in the nose."
Both Peeta and I startle when someone knocks on the door. "Peeta!" Effie calls, as peppy as ever through the door. "Time to get up! It's a big, big, big, day!"
I wait for the sound of Effie's heels clicking away, but it never happens. "Um, Peeta, dear?" she asks somewhat hesitantly.
Peeta frowns. "Yeah, Effie?"
"You wouldn't know where Katniss is, would you? I think I've lost her," Effie says, sounding mildly distressed.
Peeta glances down at me, both of us amused by the situation. "Don't worry, Effie!" Peeta calls. "I know where to find her!"
"Oh, good," Effie says relieved. "Make sure she's at breakfast!"
Peeta and I wait until we're sure she's gone before we both dissolve into a fit of laughter. "That was a close one," Peeta grins. "Who knows the terror Effie Trinket can unleash."
"Especially when we're doing something so improper." I smile before thinking about breakfast. "I actually need a shower," I say as I try to get up, but Peeta throws an arm around my waist.
"Use mine," he says persuasively, his lips brushing against my ear.
"And then what will I wear to breakfast?" I ask pointedly.
"I have many shirts for you to steal."
"Borrow," I correct indignantly. "Borrow without permission. And people will talk if I show up in just your shirt."
Peeta huffs before releasing me. "Fine," he sighs in defeat. "Leave me all alone then. All by myself in this terribly lonesome compartment . . ."
"Guilt tripping will not work," I say without missing a beat. "Now get ready before Effie comes to drag you out of here."
By this time, Peeta has swung his legs over the side of the bed, but has yet to get up, choosing to sit there and run a hand through his hair as he sighs. He looks up at me, and I see the weighted look in his eyes, seriousness replacing the lightheartedness only seconds before. Unable to help myself, I walk back towards him and his hands automatically settle on my hips as I mine rest on his shoulders.
"You know," he says quietly, looking up at me ruefully. "I can almost forget everything else when I'm with you."
I know what he's saying. 'Everything else,' in this case, is President Snow's threat and our talk with Haymitch last night. "Right back at you," I reply.
It really is uncanny how together we're able to, for a while at least, forget about everything. President Snow. Threats. Forced and yet not-so-forced marriages. Like only moments before, we were laughing about hiding me from Effie. Before that we were laughing about Rye and what's coming to him when we get back to 12. It's simply not in Peeta's nature to let things stay dismal for too long. He has to find some kind of happiness, and it's that ability, that drive for something better, that makes me fall in love with him all over again.
He's really turning me into a sap, I think wryly. Who would have thought that I, Katniss Everdeen, the hunter from the Seam—who never wanted or believed she needed love and a relationship—would in only seven months have her world tipped upside down—all because of one boy?
"I've got to go," I say, bending down to give him a quick kiss before stepping away from him and hesitantly poking my head out the door to check the hallway. Seeing that the coast is clear, I dash down the hallway and practically fling myself into my room. For a moment, I'm able to feel a slight thrill at sneaking back into my room unnoticed, though the excitement really is dull compared to the threat of getting caught by my mother back home.
I take the quickest shower I've ever taken, which is truly saying something, and then I dress in the first set of clothes I touch when I open my dresser—black pants and a white t-shirt. When I walk into the dining car, Effie, Haymitch, Cinna, and Portia are sitting at the table, Peeta having yet to arrive apparently.
I sit in a chair on the opposite side of the table, and Haymitch glances my way briefly before his attention reverts back to the muffin he's currently picking at. "Effie tells me that you weren't in your room," he says mildly.
My eyes immediately look to my plate to delay my response.
"Well?" Haymitch snaps lightly, though not with as much bite as usual. He must be nursing a massive hangover.
"I couldn't sleep," I say, which is somewhat the truth.
"So you wondered the train for hours?" Haymitch continues to question me and I resist the urge to glare at him. I know that he knows exactly where I was last night. He's not stupid, far from it actually, much to my irritation.
"No," I say as I stab a piece of sausage with a little too much force. "Not exactly." Cinna quickly takes a drink to hide his knowing smile, and Portia actually winks at me.
I've never fought so hard not to blush.
Peeta chooses this moment to walk into the room, and he pauses briefly, surveying the scene, no doubt sensing the tension in the air. Effie looks up. "Oh, there you are, Peeta. We were just trying to find out where Katniss disappeared to sometime last night."
"Really?" Peeta says smoothly as he sits beside me. "Well, I told you I knew where to find her."
Effie looks at me pointedly, missing Haymitch's smirk, Cinna's smile, and Portia's brief giggle that she stifles quickly, pretending to dab her lips with a napkin.
I'm just about ready to hide under the table in embarrassment.
"And where was she exactly?" Effie asks before looking at me. "I really can't have you running off dear. We might get off schedule trying to find you."
After her mild scolding of me, she looks back at Peeta, waiting for an answer. "Oh, well, she was just . . ." he trails off, searching for some explanation. "You know what, Effie? She was with me. Snuck into my room last night and attacked me. Jumped on the bed and everything."
Everyone at the table stares at him before Effie breaks out into a fit of giggles. Haymitch rolls his eyes before returning his attention back to his muffin that he's slowly picking apart. Cinna just shakes his head, and Portia merely resumes eating, though a smile is playing at the corner of her lips.
Effie is just in a fit. "Oh, very funny, Peeta! Very funny." A rogue giggle escapes her. "That would be so terribly improper, but I see what you're trying to tell me. It's a little secret place of hers, hmm? Somewhere she escapes too?"
I want to bang my head against the table. Oh, Effie. If only you knew.
"I want to keep it a secret, Effie," I finally speak. "You know, just a place all to myself that no one else knows about. Except Peeta."
"Oh, well, alright," Effie sighs indulgently. "Just make sure that you're where I need you to be when I need you to be there. We have a schedule!" she chides gently before the subject is dropped and we all tuck into our breakfast.
As we eat, try as I might, I can't focus on the food. Now that I'm not with Peeta in our little bubble of blissful obliviousness, all I can think about is President Snow and his threat. All I can think about is how Peeta and I need to convince the districts that we didn't mean to be a symbol of rebellion. We didn't mean to start uprisings. I simply wanted us both to live.
It doesn't help that our first stop is District 11, Thresh and Rue's home. I feel a sharp pang in my heart as I think of Rue. Such a sweet girl and so very clever. I have nightmares about her death, my mind replaying her getting speared in the stomach over and over. I'm never able to get to her in time. She always dies, and I always wake up in tears.
During the Victory Tour we'll continue through the districts until we reach the Capitol, the final stop on the tour where Peeta and I can be sure to expect a lavish party, filled with Capitol citizens that think we're the coolest thing since sliced bread.
Oh, great. Bread jokes are rubbing off on me. Brilliant.
Then there's mine and Peeta's marriage. I stab at the food on my plate with a little too much gusto. It's not like I object to marrying Peeta. However scary the concept, I had known that it would eventually happen. One day. A while from now.
Not in the very near distant future.
Anger swells within me every second I continue to think about the Capitol. First, they plan to take my sister from me, but I volunteered, offering myself instead. Then I was put through the hell that is the Hunger Games. And then to save the boy that I unwittingly fell in love with, I unintentionally provided a spark, an act of rebellion, making fools of the Capitol. And now, Snow has threatened everyone I love, giving me the seemingly impossible task of convincing people that I didn't mean to rebel (which I didn't) and that I was only trying to save myself and Peeta (which I was).
I'm trying to convince people of the truth. It's easy to convince someone of a lie. But the truth?
Not so easy.
So it's safe to say that when the train stops due to a malfunction, a malfunction that will take an hour to fix, and Effie flies into a state, exclaiming about schedules, it doesn't take me long to crack.
"No one cares, Effie!" I snap, causing everyone to look at me. Even Haymitch, who can't stand Effie, doesn't immediately come to my aid. This puts me on the defensive. "What?" I snap. "It's true."
The train suddenly feels stifling, and I'm overcome with the need to escape. I nearly fall out of my chair in my haste to flee the dining car, quickly finding the exit door Haymitch opened last night. I wrench it open, ignoring the alarm that begins to blare, and hop to the ground.
Instead of landing in snow like I did last night, the ground beneath me is dry. The air is warm and humid. The grass is green, as well as the leaves on the trees. How far south have we traveled in just a day? I don't give these thoughts much weight. I have more important things to think about, so I begin to walk along the tracks, listening to the gravel crunch under my feet. I'm wondering how far I can walk and still make it back to the train in my hour time limit.
So I'm surprised when I end up plopping down onto the ground after only a few hundred yards.
I just sit there, glaring at the gravel in front of me. It's not fair. All of this, everything, it's just not fair. I'm struck by the need to have Maya with me, to sit beside me silently and just let me pet her. It's odd to think how attached I am too her, considering both our natures. But she's been a friend to me since I found her at the lake. She doesn't judge me. She doesn't ask stupid questions. She just lets me be, and she sticks with me.
I hear Peeta before I see him. Even with his extra time in the woods, beyond the District 12 fence, his tread is still as loud as ever. Well, I take that back, it's almost as loud as ever.
When he reaches me, he doesn't say anything at first. He just sits down beside me. I'm surprised when I'm the first one to break the silence. "I should apologize to Effie," I say, feeling a little bit guilty. Effie is all about manners and I probably broke at least a dozen of her etiquette rules. Besides, it's not her fault that President Snow is threatening to kill everyone I love.
"Don't be afraid to lay it on thick," Peeta replies as he plucks a tall strand of grass that's managed to rise up from beneath the gravel. He idly twirls it before beginning to tear off pieces a little at a time. "What's on your mind?" he finally asks.
I growl. "What do you think?" Now that we're away from the train I can say what I want, without bothering to filter my words. "It'll be a miracle if we pull this off," I tell him. "And you know it, no matter how hard you try and make it seem different. Someone can argue and try and persuade me of something all day, and at the end of the day, I will still believe what I believe, no matter what they said. It's the same thing here, Peeta! They're going to believe what they want. And if they want to see the berries as an act of rebellion, then they will."
Peeta's quiet, still slowly breaking apart the blade of grass. "I know," he finally says. "But we can't just give up, Katniss. We've got to try."
"And say that somehow we do manage to calm the districts," I continue. "What then? It's not like the Capitol will just leave us alone. They'll always be there, controlling us. Even if we do get married like Haymitch said, eventually that won't be enough either. They'll make us have kids."
It's been something I've successfully avoided thinking about until now, even though it's probably been floating around in the back of my mind. I might not be the most normal girl that daydreams about big weddings and the perfect guy and then making pretty babies. Still, it doesn't mean that the thought hasn't ever crossed my mind, however briefly.
Peeta would make a great father. It's as true as the fact that the sun will always rise in the east and set in the west. With his naturally kind and loving demeanor any child would be lucky to call him 'Dad.'
"Any kid we have will go straight into the Games, Peeta," I whisper. This is exactly why I don't want kids. If my child were reaped, I won't be able to volunteer like I did to save Prim. I'd have to stay behind and watch as he or she fought for their life, all for the sake of entertainment. I can't go through that. I just can't. "The child of the star-crossed lovers of District 12," I continue, my voice sounding lifeless. "It's a guarantee. The Capitol might even reap them the moment they turn twelve."
Peeta sighs angrily, running a hand through his hair. "You think I haven't thought of that already?" he snaps. "I hate how the Capitol is controlling us. I hate it. I don't have much. I don't ask for much. But damn it, at least before the Games I was my own person, living by my own rules."
He glances at me, his face softening. "All I want is to love you and make you happy. If you're happy, then I am too. I just want you, and, yeah, eventually, a long way down the road, a house full of loud, obnoxious, rowdy kids that run around oblivious to anything thing we say." Peeta pauses to smile at me sadly before looking up toward the sky. "I just didn't think it'd be too much to ask for."
I sigh as a lean against him, resting my head on his shoulder. "It's not too much to ask for," I say softly. "And you know, no matter how scary it is, I don't think I'd mind being a mother." Because honestly, I'm more of a mother to Prim than a sister. "I think I would like it."
"But I can't put myself through the pain of knowing that any child we have will be put into the Games," I say. "It's not fair to them."
"It's not fair to us," Peeta adds quietly as he wraps his arm around me.
We sit there in silence for a long time. I think of everything Peeta and I have said. It's nice to know that we're both on the same page, but I do feel slightly guilty for unloading all of my anger onto him. Peeta doesn't deserve it, but he never complains. I don't deserve him. I really don't. He's too good for me, but anytime I tell him so he just flips my words right around and says that I'm too good for him. Ha.
I think about what he's said, about what he wants from life. It's so picturesque. I can see it in my mind, his little vision, his dream. Peeta and I in his house in the Victor's Village. Little blonde-haired, blue-eyed kids running around, Peeta chasing after them . . . well, maybe one of them would have my features. Maybe my dark hair, Peeta's blue eyes . . .
I stop that train of thought. It's far too painful to think about.
Desperate for a distraction from my thoughts, I break the silence. "Thanks for letting me rant," I say. "My moods must be giving you whiplash."
Peeta chuckles tiredly, and holds me closer. "A little bit," he admits. "But I can deal."
I sigh. "We should probably head back to the train."
"Probably," he agrees getting to his feet, pulling me up with him. "And you still need to apologize to Effie."
I groan. I know that I owe Effie a big apology, and I've never been good at admitting I was wrong.
"Just think," Peeta says lightly. "It could be worse."
I don't see how.
Peeta wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side. "You could be apologizing for sneaking into my room."
I shudder. That would be worse. "But you'd be apologizing too."
Peeta shakes his head. "Nope. You attacked me, remember?"
"Forgive me for wanting to make sure you weren't dead," I snap a bit more harshly than I intended, but the memory of my nightmare is still fresh in my mind.
Peeta stops walking and turns to face me. "I won't leave you," he reassures me softly as his hands cradle my face. "You're stuck with me."
I remember my nightmare, how I'd been hunched over his dead body, yelling at him for leaving me. "Promise?" I whisper.
Peeta smiles before giving me a kiss, one that coaxes that fire in my stomach to a roaring flame. My skin feels hot and my heart is threatening to pound out of my chest. My hands, which were resting on his chest, are now fisted in his shirt, keeping him from pulling away from me. When we finally break away and acknowledge our need for oxygen, I feel Peeta's breath tickle my face as he kisses my cheek before whispering, "Promise."
Yeah, Peeta's awesome.
So we're in District 11 next chapter. Things are the same, and yet things are different. You know me. There's a scene that I'm particularly fond of that involves my fav trio (aside from the Mellark Brothers), which is PK and Haymitch. So, lots of fun next chapter. :)
Quote! I must give you a quote! Hmm . . . Katniss?
"Seriously, no one can say something that romantic off the top of their head."
Lots of love,
AC
