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Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. All rights go to Suzanne Collins.

Chapter 2

My heart stopped, the blood draining from my face.

No!

He wasn't coming back. He was dying. He wasn't going to ever going to come to my ratty apartment, and make sure that I have something to eat. He would no longer be able to comfort me after nightmares. He was going away. Leaving me to face this horrid world by myself. Leaving me like he said he would never do.

"You can go visit him if want. He doesn't have much more time left in this world." Tears filled up my eyes, but I forced them away. I looked at the woman and realized she was waiting for and answer. Numbly, I nodded.

I followed her back up the building and back to Peeta;s room. It wasn't like when I was here a few minutes ago. There was no doctors that I could see. The doctor opened the door to his room, leading a few doctors out of the room. She nodded her head for me to inside.
Inside, Peeta was laying down, his face peaceful. His heart slowly thumped in an uneven rhythm, each beat getting farther and farther apart from the one before it. I went over and sat in the seat next to his bed, slipping my hand in his cool one.

"You said you'd never leave me. You promised. You can't leave me now." Tears slid down my face. "I love you, Peeta." Maybe I imagined it, but it looked like his lips curled up into a smile like he knew I was there and could hear me. "I'm sorry I never said it before now. I hate how you're about to die and I'm just now saying this. Hate that it took for you to die on me that I'm just now saying this. Hate how I've known this for a while now and never said anything to you, even when you've said it to me a million times after I realized I did." I pulled his hand up, holding it to my cheek. "I'm sorry." I got up and kissed him softly on the lips, even long after I heard the drone sound of his heart beat that had gone silent.

I didn't scream or shake for him to come back to me. There was no point. He was gone, and he wasn't coming back. No need to waste time hoping he will. I just sat back down in the chair and let the silent tears fall effortlessly down my face. His hand was as cold as ever, but I didn't let go. His face was pale, but no less beautiful than it was before. Even though his lids covered his eyes, I could still imagine his bright, blue orbs. Everything was the same about him other than those things, and the fact that he was dead.

I didn't bother to tell myself that it would be okay, because I knew it wouldn't. I was alone. There was no one left for me in the world. Peeta was dead and gone, along with the rest of my family. I didn't know why I had let him into my pointless life. It had just felt right at the time. It felt nice to feel loved again. I knew I shouldn't have formed that kind of relationship with him, but I just couldn't help it. And now he's gone and I'm left broken again. Broken, with no one to comfort me. Just like last time.

I stayed there, holding his hand, until the hospital forced me to leave. Even then, when they said I must go, it was a struggle to get me out of the room away from him. Johanna came in and wrapped her hand around my wrist tightly, probably leaving dark, hand-shaped bruises.

Out in the hallway, she dragged me out of the room and down the hall and back to the first floor. It didn't take much effort since I was just following her without complaint, but I was only following semi-conscious of what I was doing. We were so close to the front doors when realized where and what I was doing. I screamed and struggled against her grip, trying to get back to Peeta's room, with no success. I felt hopeless and weak breaking-down in front of them all. I laid on the white tile of the floor, curled up in a little ball, crying my loud tears out. People were probably starring at me with disgust, pity, sympathy, sorrow, knowing, but I paid them no mind. I didn't want any of it. Johanna was knelt down on the floor next to me trying to calm me down. I must have looked like some mental chick, and needed help desperately with some therapy. I probably did, considering what just happened and how much I had left in the world-which was basically nothing.

While I was on the floor, I wondered how many other people had cried on this exact floor, or if any. Was I the first? The first to make a complete fool of myself over death? I hadn't even cried that much when my whole family died and I was the only one left.

Even though I hadn't been that long without my family, it felt like a lifetime. Then Peeta came, and he made everything seem right again. And even though long before he had came into my jacked-up life, I had learned nothing will ever be okay, he made me want to believe it again like when I was a small child.

Though I had loved every second I'd spent with, I regretted it. I had promised that I wouldn't let myself end up like this again, so I closed myself off. But did I listen to myself? Of course no. That's why I was on the floor, crying my eyes out like the loser I am.

After maybe ten minutes, my sobbing had subsided. Johanna was sitting at my side, no longer saying anything to me, but just awkwardly rubbing my back. Even after I had stopped crying, neither one of us said anything.

After a while, Johanna stood up. She held out her hand to me. "Come one, brainless. The floor is dirty." The faintest of smiles appeared on my lips, though she didn't notice. I took her hand and she pulled me up, taking me to an empty couch across the room.

We sat in silence, neither of us knowing what to say after something like that. I starred at my lap, fiddling my thumbs with nothing else to do. I tried to put all my attention on my hands, tried thinking of anything other than my now dead boyfriend.

I felt like someone was watching me. At first I had thought it was Johanna, but it wasn't. I looked up from my lap, my eyes meeting deep blue ones. I quickly dropped my gaze, but I could still feel his boring into my head. I tapped my foot, not being able to stay still under his gaze. Johanna slapped her hand down on my knee.

"Stop that," she hissed. "It's annoying."

"Sorry," I said, another small smile coming across my face. She smirked, leaned back into the couch and closed her eyes. I looked around the room, my eyes landing on the boy across the room who was—still is—starring at me. I scowled at him and waved my arms, trying to snap him out of it. He didn't seem fazed, just kept studding me. Giving up on him, I leaned back, and crossed my arms. Johanna peeked at me out of the corner of her eye that are squinted shut.

"What's got you all fussed up? Just a minute ago you were draining your body of all water."

"Was not," I scoffed, avoiding her eyes. I quickly glanced back at the blonde boy across the room. He was still starring at me. What was his problem?

"So that's it huh?" She moved a little, making herself more comfortable, her eyes never leaving mine. I looked away first. "Ha." I looked back to her to find her looking at him.

Knowing exactly what she meant, but not wanting to give myself away that easily I asked, "What do you mean?"

She ignores my question, knowing that I knew what she meant. "He's kind of hot don't you think?" She winked, and I rolled my eyes.

"My boyfriend just died like ten minutes ago. I don't care whether this psycho staring at me from across the room is hot or not." She laughed and shook her head.

"You should probably stop saying boyfriend. Cause technically, he's dead, so basically you're not together anymore. Now he's just your...ex." She giggled, but it came out more like an evil laugh. "Haha. If you put an s in front of..." She trailed off when she saw my face. "Not funny. Most defiantly not...funny." The last word came out as a snort. She slapped her hand over her mouth and looked around to see if anyone heard. Satisfied no one did, she looked back at me, her face serious. "Not a word to anybody. Got it?"

"Who's to tell," I asked smirking. She scowled and shook her head. She looked over at the man across the room again.

"Well look who's coming over." She wiggled her eyebrows at me.

"He's probably coming to tell you to stop being such an immature nurse." She held her hand to her chest in mock hurt.

"Me? Immature?" I rolled my eyes.

"Excuse me," said a deep voice next to me. I looked over and saw him. Johanna was right; he was hot.

Piercing blue eyes stared at me now, and I advert my eyes for just a moment, looking to Johanna. She was smirking. I looked back to the man and noticed his hair, handsome and golden, swooshing away from his face in the windblown look some guys are always trying to perfect. And, truthfully, I would say he had perfected it.

Despite all this, I still managed a somewhat rude, "What?" He raised an eyebrow, but didn't seem surprised at all by my reaction. He must have saw the break-down I had fifteen minutes ago.

"Are you Katniss?" I stared at him, then at Johanna, who seemed to not know what emotion to feel. Her face went between amusement, surprise, and awkwardness. I shifted around a little on the couch, getting a better look at his face. Something in my gut told me not to trust him and just scare him off, but instead I said.

"Depends on why you're asking." He gave a small grin and turns away.

He already knew the answer, but asked anyway, "are you or are you not Katniss." I said nothing, just stared at him blankly. "Well alright then. "He started to walk away slowly."

"Oh just spit out whatever the hell you were about to tell me," I yelled exasperatedly.

"Sorry I'm looking for a Katniss, not a no namer," he says not bothering to look back, although, his steps did falter a little when I spoke.

"I never said that I wasn't Katniss."

"You didn't say you were Katniss either." I let out a frustrated huff of breath. That guy was really getting on my last nerve.

"Well I am so get on with it." He turns around and looks at me for a while, studying me like he was doing earlier. "What is your problem? Stop staring at me like that." He adverts his eyes a little, and walks a few paces towards me.

"Peeta's your boyfriend, right?"

"Was," I correct him, fighting off the tears that were sure to come sometime during this conversation.

"Good."

"Good," I shrieked, my voice a octave higher than normal. "What do you mean, 'good'?" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw people staring at me again with that weird look all over their faces.

"Doesn't matter, I've been waiting for you." Creeper much? "I was the one who found Peeta." I inwardly gasped.

Hoped you enjoyed:) Please send your thoughts to me. Have a good rest of the day. Remember: Keep calm and hope your laptop isn't possessed like mine. This the conversation I had with mine the other day:

-Hello my name is Hannah.
-Hello, Hannah. My name is Tom Riddle.
-Will you talk in front of my mom? (i said this cause i showed my mom that and she didn't believe me)
-No! She is evil and non-magical, she can not be trusted! Now come follow me on the adventure to destroy that Harry Potter.
-NO HARRY POTTER IS AMAZING! I WILL NOT FOLLOW YOU! YOU WILL NOT POSSES ME LIKE YOU DID GINNY WEASLEY!
-Well, Hannah (my last name) you-
-HOW DO YOU KNOW MY LAST NAME? I NEVER EVEN SAID IT!
-I am Voldemort, I know all.
- Oh yeah, What color shirt am I wearing, hmmmmm?
-White.
-HOW DID YOU KNOW?
-I can see you.
-...stalker.
-I know.

Even though I basically had that conversation with myself and not with the laptop, my laptop is still very much alive, I swear - well sort of anyway. It's slowly dying away on me. It's got so many problems. Maybe it just needs some good therapy. :) R&R! DON'T FORGET TO CHECK OUT MY OTHER STORIES! :D