Okay, don't kill me. Im sorry i haven't been writing and I have to many excuses but WATEV. Lol, so leggo chapter 4!

"Mom?" I shakily asked. Her face was tear-stained and red.

"Why'd you do it? Why didn't you? You are a worthless mutt. We all blame you for not saving Prim. Katniss..." She hisses, her eyes turning yellow and teeth razor sharp. She swipes at my face and just before she fades away into the darkness.

"Katniss. Wake up, it's just a nightmare. Honey, wake up." I hear a faint voice from faraway call. "Katniss, honey." Peeta presses his lips into my hair.

I finally see the world again. Peeta's eyes are filled with concern.

"It was so real. So real." I plea, as if he would never understand. Peeta is about the only person alive that know's what I have been through. He might've, probably, gone through worse in the Capitol. I crash my lips onto Peeta's pushing all my emotion and what I have left in me into it. I feel a smile against my lips. "Thank you Peeta." I say after eventually breaking the kiss.

"Katniss, I hate to end this wonderful embrace we are having, but I need to go to work." Peeta says quietly.

I gently kiss his lips with an, "Okay." I give him another long kiss and hop out of the bed. I raise my eyebrow and he chuckles.

"You are beautiful Katniss." Peeta says.

"After how you saw me today? Okay, sure. Think that." I growl back.

"Oh honey. Our children would be gorgeous. Would they not?" He questions.

"Peeta! What is with the kids subject. I don't really want kids before 20! We are only 18!" I yell, getting mad. Yes, I'm 18 now, it would be my last year in the Reaping bowl.

"Sorry. I-I-I know. We just have been through so much more. I feel like we are basically 83 with nothing to do but watch each other."

"Why do you want kids? Be honest Peeta."

"I have always wanted kids with YOU. Not anyone else. I want to see something we have created. I want to be a father. I want. I want. I want. I never say I want. This is the only thing, besides you, that I want. Katniss, please see!" He begs with tears on the bridge of barrelling down his face.

"Go to work, Peeta." I sternly say. I could not raise a kid. I tried two times, with Prim and Rue. Prim died because of me, because of Gale. Rue died because of our horrid government. What if the Games started again? My kid would most certainly be picked to play in those murder fields. I wouldn't be able to do it. Never. Not again. Not after what happened.

Peeta raises to go and leaves the room without another word.

OoO

I sat, for the rest of the day, on the kitchen floor. The cold ground relaxes my muscles. Sitting here really pained me into thinking and not getting off topic, nothing much was around me anyways.

The question that needed answering was if I wanted kids or not. At one point I would need to give back to Peeta. I need to prove my love to Peeta. But not now, I, we, are only 18. Maybe at 19 but never 18.

I came the conclusion to hate tears. They run down your cheeks, distorting the look from your face. They make my scars on my face uglier than they already are. For me, they show weakness. Right now, my weakness a decison. Kids? Yes. I will have kids. For Peeta.