A/N: Hey guys, I apologize again for the mistake, but here's chapter two so forigve me? :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing :D

Chapter Two

District 12 is the poorest district in Panem. Even though it's not surrounded with poverty and people aren't starving or ill, the district isn't as well off as others. The other Districts call the residents the Poor of Panem. I still don't understand why. Maybe going there would help me understand. I've never met her but I do I know that my Aunt Effie runs an Etiquette School in the District. Maybe she'll end up sending me there. I'm sure it wouldn't be that hard to escape from an old school of polite spinsters. I could escape and catch a train back home, tell Miss. Paylor Effie sent me home. Yeah, I like that idea.

As I get off the train lugged with bags I take in my surroundings. The station is pretty much deserted-no-one on the train were going here, most of them were onboard to go to districts 6-9. 10-12 aren't as popular with tourists and visitors because they aren't as fun and have no attractions whatsoever.

"Katniss!" An ear shattering shrill of a voice squeals. I whirl round as a woman in a spring green suit with six inch heels and who's blonde wig is bouncing wildly, in danger of falling off, barrels towards me. Is this my aunt?! The crazy woman in green batters me in a fierce hug, making me drop my bags in shock. God this is awkward, I hope she is my aunt and not some deranged mental patient escaped from an asluym.

"Aunt Effie?" I ask somewhat nervously.

"Katniss!" the woman cries in delight as she pulls away from the hug. "I'm so happy your here! Yes! I'm Aunt Effie! Please, just call me Effie. 'Aunt' makes me sound so old don't you think?"

"Uh-"

"Oh how rude of me! I should introduce myself properly. My name's Effie Trinket of 12 and I'm going to whip you into shape my dear!" Effie twitters cheerfully.

"Whip me into shape?" I frown, slightly overwhelmed.

"Your mother has explained everything to me dear, and I'm so sorry," Effie sighs dramatically. She's acting like I've got some self inflicted disease or something. "And I'm going to clear your thoughts so the truth will be crystal." Truth? I know what the truth is, that's the problem! "Come on, we better get off this filthly platform before we catch something!" Like what?!

I sigh and bend down to pick my bags up when my hands are slapped away by Effie. "Rule number one: Never do anything for yourself," she grins.

"Who does it for me then?" I ask, looking around the platform and seeing no-one; just the dusty station to my left.

"The slave obviously," Effie answers. Her eyes widen and she gasps. "I'm sorry, that was rude. It's probably not obvious to you, poor thing." I'm starting to feel like an incompetant five year old who can't tell right from wrong and it's very frustrating.

"There's no-one here," I reply, trying to keep the venom out of my tone-very nearly failing.

"Of course!" Effie exclaims. "I forgot, he's watching the car."

"Who?"

"The Slave of course," Effie smiles before shrieking, "Peeta! Get over here now!" I rub my ears after the shrill shriek cuts through them. I wonder how many decibals her yell could reach all at once?

A blonde head suddenly pops round the station wall at the end of the platform, probably checking they're at the right one, before coming fully around and approaching us. Before they even reach us the first thing that strikes me about them is the clear blue of their eyes. They have an almost luminous glow to them that both terrifys and fascinates me. I feel myself stiffen as they come closer and I realize who they are: It's Effie's slave. I chastise myself for being so naive and not realizing sooner who it was. When he reaches us he doesn't speak; he just stands beside Effie and looks at her expectantly, probably awaiting an order.

"Katniss this is my-and now your-slave. Responds to the name of Peeta-" hold on, my mother was right?!"-and will do whatever you wish. Whatever you wish." Did she just wink at me?

When I look at Peeta the Slave I start slightly when I notice he's looking at me; head tilted slightly, face devoud of emotion, deep blue eyes boring into my dull grey ones. I feel almost naked under the scrutiny- even though I'm dressed in layers to brace the cold weather of tweleve- making me shift uncomfortably on the spot.

Effie slaps him lightly on the cheek and snaps, "Staring's rude!" Even though it was a light slap, I'm shocked at the action for something as simple as staring. When I turn back to look at him again he's no longer looking at me, his eyes are directed to the ground, causing me to feel almost sorry for him. I dimiss the feeling though because I can't sympathize with a slave if I have any hope of going home. "Carry Katniss' bags to the car," Effie instructs. Peeta the Slave nods and hauls my duffel bag over one shoulder and carries the other with his spare hand before heading off to the car park.

Effie and I follow a couple of metres behind, walking at a lesiruely pace. "My previous Slave passed away last week of some infection or something or other," Effie explains. "But I got this one for a right old price. It was a bargain! Half off the orginal price and yet just as obidient and compliant as any other ordinary slave!" I scowl at the ground at the way Effie speaks of the slave, as if he's some item she found at a jumble sale. "I have to say it's the best I've had in my 30 years. Does everything I ask when I ask and doesn't speak unless asked to."

"You don't let him speak?" I ask, my eyes flicking up to the back of the blonde servant as he walks ahead, carrying my bags as if there's nothing in them.

"There's no reason for it," Effie replies. "There are occasions when I tell him he can speak but it's a rarity." I wonder what it's like, having to be so silent, never being able to use your voice unless given permission. I doubt it would work for me, I can't keep silent even if my life depended on it. "He'll do anything for you, all you have to do is ask. Whether it's tidying your room, washing your clothes, meeting your sexual needs-"

I choke on my own spit at this and stumble on a rock. "What?!" I rasp.

"Oh, isn't that so sweet?" Effie smiles, holding a hand to her chest. "So pure, it's so sweet."

"Excuse me?" I exclaim. Effie slings an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close as we walk before explaining.

"You ever need a release, just ask. It's one of the main requirements of a slave: Must be able to please and pleasure," she says. My eyes widen at what's she's implying and I almost trip again.

"I think I'll be alright Effie," I reply weakly.

"The oppurtunity is always there," Effie smiles. I study her beaming face for a moment and put two and two together in my mind.

"Have you ever . . . ?" I ask, trailing off, unable to say the actual words. Effie understands what I'm asking and nods.

"Yes, of course," she answers. "I'm a grown woman Katniss. I have needs too." My mouth falls open but she soon taps it closed. "You'll catch flies honey," she says.

We head into the car park and I notice that it's nearly as deserted as the station itself. Only three cars sit in the park; a blue station wagon, a black BMW and a lumionous pink mini with eyelashes on the front lights. I internally groan when I see Peeta the Slave putting my bags into the boot of the mini. I'm going to have to travel in that?

"What do you think?" Effie grins as Peeta the Slave holds the door open for her to get in.

Uh . . . tacky, horrific, the stuff of nightmares?

"It's very unique," I answer, rolling my eyes and wishing the whole ordeal was over already.

~xXx~

My room isn't too big: a small box room with cream coloured walls and a single bed pushed horziontally against the right wall with a small biege wardrobe wedged in at the bottom. It's still like a palace to me though as back in 5 I had to share an average sized room with Prim.

I don't unpack; Effie says the Slave will do it tomorrow when I'm settled in and touring the District to see the 'sights', so I spent most of my first day in District 12 lying on a bed, staring at the ceiling and silently wishing this could all be over and I could go home.

It was around midnight when I hear it. I'm lying under the covers of the bed, trying in vain to get some sleep when I hear what sounds like a soft moan directly below me. I sit up in the bed, still wrapped up in the covers and listen out for it again. The small noise returns about twenty seconds later and I pull the covers tighter around my body. I work through the structure of Effie's house and figure out that directly below me is the back living room. Why such sounds would come from a living room I don't know but I'm positive I don't want to find out.

I shudder in realization of what's happening downstairs and I throw the covers over my head, jumping back into a lying postion on the bed and shivering. If Effie is a woman of manners, how is tending to her 'needs' in the room directly below her 'guest' polite in any way? Maybe she thinks I'm asleep . . . or deaf.

I think of the blonde boy who carried my bags for me without complaint and didn't speak at all in the presence of us and whose downstairs right now with my . . . aunt. The shining blue eyes come back into my mind and all my other thoughts stop aburtly. After-how old is he I wonder? He looked about my age-years of being a tortured slave you'd think such beauty wouldn't exist in those eyes, or at least be tarnished by years of abuse, and yet there is still such wonder in them.

Mentally scolding myself, I turn around in bed and snuggle closer into the pillow. I don't have time for such thoughts. Such thoughts are the type of thoughts I've avoided all my life and still intend to avoid in the foreseeable future.

Plus if I want to get back to District 5, all Peeta the Slave can be is exactly that.

Peeta the Slave.

A/N: How's that? Please let me know how you think the re-write's going! ^_^

Peace out! :D