"I don't think winning will help me at all." Peeta turned to face the camera. His smile was bittersweet.
"And why not?" Caesar Flickerman asked. Bright lights zoomed around Peeta's face, the shadow's clinging to his cheekbones.
"Because…she came here with me." He said.
The crowd gave a collective gasp. For a moment, I can't breath. My chest feels tight, and I don't fully understand what I'm hearing. Peeta stands up and takes two steps forward. I see his lips open, forming my name.
Then he falls to his knees. "You don't love her!" Flickerman shouts angrily. He beats Peeta with an electric baton, smacking his leg, his arm, the back of the head. I want to move, but I can't. It feels like I'm paralyzed, forced to watch Peeta die before my eyes.
"She killed them! You're family and friends! Its all her fault." It's no longer Caesar holding the club; it's President Snow. He kneels down and pushes a needle into Peeta's arm. His screams pierce my ears, but I can't even raise my arms to cover them.
"How do you feel now, son?" Snow asks, his smile touching his icy blue eyes.
Peeta turns towards the camera, his face distorted. "I hate her." He said. "She killed them. She did it. Its her fault." My knees buckle, and I look to Haymitch for help, but he's just standing there, shaking his head at me. When I turn back to the screen, Rue stands next to Peeta.
"It's her fault I'm dead. She let me die. Anyone that goes near her is in danger." Her eyes face the camera, turning an intense, fiery red. "YOU DID IT!" She screeched. "KATNISS!" I heard her screams from the forest in the first games.
"NO!" I'm yelling, but no one can hear me. "NO!" No one can hear me. But I know they're telling the truth. It's my fault their dead. My fault. Now I can move, and I pound my hands on the ground, trying to bring them back, trying to make it all ok, but I can't. Their voices get louder, echoing off the walls until tears stream down my face.
I woke up when my head hit the concrete. Sitting up, I tried to regain my bearings. A nightmare. It was just a nightmare. I wondered if my screams had woken anyone else. Sweat dripped down the back of my neck as I struggled to stand. It all felt so real. I could see them standing there in front of me, blaming me for their hardships.
After a while of sitting on my bed and trying not to hyperventilate, I got up to go to the restroom. The hallway was dark, the lights in everyone else's room out. Johanna was laying half on and half off her bed, her arms wrapped around her head. Craig's door was closed, though I was sure she slept just fine.
Jacob's had forced us to live together in this apartment. The women shared a bathroom on the east hallway. There were four rooms here, though only three were occupied. The boys were across the hall, separated from us by a spacious kitchen and sparsely decorated living room. The apartment was designed for soldiers. It didn't look like it could be lived in for very long.
I splashed cold water on my face and neck and ran my fingers through my hair. The sweat made it stick to my skin, but I had gotten used to that by now. Ever since Peeta had been captured, my nightmares had returned with vengeful fury. It was always a similar dream. The people I loved suffering because of me. There was nothing I could do to stop them, so I learned how to tread quietly and face the pillow so no one could hear me scream.
My eyes were dark in the dim bathroom light. There were purple circles beneath them, the result of consecutive nights of little to no sleep. The training kept me busy, but it also wore me down. I shut off the bathroom sink and started to walk back to my compartment. When I reached my room and laid down, my eyes refused to close. The fear was there, clinging to my throat and making it hard to breath. The last good night's sleep I had was the night before the Quell, when Peeta was holding me and it felt like the rest of the world just fell away.
Before I knew it I was up and out of bed and headed down the hallway. I passed through the kitchen and the living room and started to walk towards Peeta's room. The whole time I was reminding myself that this was a horrible idea. Other than an awkward hug, Peeta and I had made no physical contact. Going to his room in the middle of the night wouldn't just surprise him. It would probably freak him out.
At the doorway, I hesitated, standing on my tiptoes at the threshold between his room and the hallway. The fear of having another nightmare overcame my fear of rejection, and I quietly slipped in, closing the door behind me.
He was asleep on his side facing me. Peeta always managed to look so peaceful when he slept. When I told him that, he had laughed and told me I always looked like I was fighting some sort of battle. He said my eyebrows were constantly knit together, and that I tossed and turned more than anyone he had seen. My stress carried over into the night, while Peeta's expression had none of its useful concentration or worry. I had missed seeing him like this.
"Peeta." I whispered. He stirred a little, then rolled over onto his back. Biting my lip, I reached my hand over and put it on his shoulder. "Peeta, wake up." I said a little bit louder.
He opened his eyes with a start. He grabbed my hand, hard, and his eyes were filled with a panicked fear. For a second I thought he might attack me, but when he came too, he relaxed. "Katniss?" He whispered back, not letting go of my hand. "What are you doing here?"
If I was a better liar, I would have come up with a sensible excuse. Instead, I told the truth. "I couldn't sleep. My nightmares have been horrible since…well I just thought that on the train you helped me sleep…I'm just exhausted."
"Katniss…you can't just…do this to me. I could've hurt you. If the doctor's were wrong, this would have been the perfect situation for me to get out of control. Then what would I do if I had hurt you?" Peeta was frowning, but it was more desperate than sad, like he was trying to convince himself that was a possibility.
"You can't be afraid of yourself for your whole life." I said, raising my voice. "This was a bad idea." I shook my head. "A moment of weakness that I should have ignored. I'll just let myself out."
When I turned to leave, I felt him grab onto my hand again. When I turned back, a smile had replaced his worried frown. "You honestly think I could let you leave?" He said.
He pulled me down next to him and wrapped the blanket around us. When his arms reach around my back, I can feel how warm he is. It feels good. Peeta feels good; strong and secure and safe. He smells like soap and freshly baked bread, and being with him reminds me that there are things I could dream about instead of horrible nightmares.
"You're safe now." He whispered into my hair. "I can't be afraid of them. So I can promise you'll be safe with me."
He started to run his fingers across my lower back. I think it was a subconscious gesture, and I remembered him doing it when we were on the train or in the Capitol. Usually it calmed me down, but ever since the beach, my feelings for Peeta had changed. Now when he touched me, I felt something stir in my stomach. It was a burning desire for Peeta's touch. These were light caresses, meant to calm me down, but now all I could think about was him kissing me and how I never wanted him to stop touching me.
Sex had never been something I concerned myself with. When it was an issue for everyone else, I was busy fighting for my life in an arena. Now that we were in thirteen and the immediate danger was hundreds of miles away, I had a lot of time to think about what Peeta's hands would feel like. A shiver ran down my spine, even though I was suddenly incredibly hot.
"Cold?" He pulled another blanket from the foot of the bed over us. I tried to stutter out an answer.
"Yeah a little bit." I said. When he wrapped his arms around me, he was careful to place them outside my shirt.
"That probably didn't help." He said nervously. "I'm sorry. I just forgot how soft your skin was. It feels good."
He turned his head down to face me, and if I wanted to, I could reach up and kiss him. He even moved his head down, like he was thinking the exact same thing. He hesitated.
"Taking it slow." He let his head fall back onto the mattress. "We're taking it slow."
I considered just ignoring his protests and kissing him, but his eyes were already closed. In a few minutes, his breathing was even, and he had fallen back asleep with a smile on his face. For the first time in a very long time, I fell into a long, dreamless sleep.