Hunger Games Fanfiction

This chapter is a flashback in Katniss' point of view. She's at the hospital unconscious; it's a bit confusing…

I do not own The Hunger Games.

Chapter 3

(Katniss POV, flashback)

Darkness. Pain. Loneliness. Anger. The hollow shell in my body, known as my stomach aches. Low, thunderous grumbles and growls escape from it, desperate for some attention. Which I can't give.

She left. Mother has had deep depression for years and now she leaves. When we have no money, no food, no way to live. Finn and I have been without food for three days. This would be the last day of our lives, if we don't do something. We can't go to Gale, they're away on holiday and won't be back for another week. Can't call Uncle Haymitch or Aunt Effie; the phone server cut us off a few weeks ago and Haymitch lives seven miles away, I can't walk that distance in this state.

Finn is dying. His fun filled eyes have disappeared into darkness and his mischievous smile is now either in a straight line of pure anger or turned down into sobbing. Everything about him is hollow. We have been very underweight for quite a few years now but this is now starvation. I can't let Finn die. I can't.

The image of Finn lying, breathing heavily and almost limp, is the image that has given me strength to crawl my way into a little village. I've been stumbling/ walking for an hour now and there has been no food. Anywhere.

We're going to die.

I can't stop it.

I slouch onto a wooden bench by the side of a little bakery. The smell of freshly baked bread and herbs, fills my senses and leaves me dizzy. I take a deep breath, filling my lungs full of the scented air. My stomach gives an awfully loud rumble. The people who walk past just give horrified looks at my unstable, little frame. I don't look the part either. Haven't had a proper wash in weeks, has left my hair grease packed and has been in a permanent side braid for the past week. My clothes are dirty and dishevelled. I'm the little rat that sits alone on a bench, in the middle of a very posh-looking village.

A little group of teenage boys a few years older than me, probably around sixteen, are giggling and swaying glances in my direction, from the other side of the street. The sound of their laughs brings another headache to the surface. I put my head on my knees and crawl up, so I'm fully on the little bench.

A few minutes later, I raise my head, to see an elderly woman, standing right in front of me, with a disgusted look. I uncurl. She makes a horrible gurgle noise and says, "Seam rats, thinking they can get free food of us. Get going little rat! We don't need your kind here!" her voice edges towards a yell.

The Seam is a little part of 'District twelve' where every single poor person lives in Aberdeen. Yes, I live there.

She is swiping here hand at me, signalling for me to leave, "Shoo rat, shoo!" she mutters, as if I were an actual rat.

These people have no hearts. I didn't want anyone to offer me food, even if they did I wouldn't take it, I'm not charity.

I'm in a daze when I see her hand come into contact with my face. Ouch. It's a soft slap, with no power behind it but its enough to shock me into life and get to my feet, suddenly terrified of all these rich people. Laughs and mutters are sounding through my head, as I force myself to run. "That's right you run, rat!" I hear one of the boys behind me shout.

I'm out of breath instantly. I'm in a little backstreet. Black dots fill my vision, making me stumble and trip over an empty bin can. I fall to the ground, knocking the wind out of me. I gag. Streams of tears running down my face. If I had anything in my stomach I would've thrown up.

This is it. I crawl into a ball and wrap my arms around myself, waiting for the end to come. My senses have gone and I can only feel alone and scared.

Finn. Dad. Gale. Finn. Dad. Finn. Finn. Finn…

I feel another presence near by. They will most probably watch on whilst I die. Noises of running? Who cares? They can't harm me anymore than I am.

Strong arms attach to my upper arms, shaking slightly. Can't I pass in peace? "Go" I whimper.

I get the light feeling of being carried. "Never".

I'm gone.

…..

I'm startled awake by a cold liquid on my face. I gasp and shoot bolt up right, wiping my face. I look around. I'm lying on a very comfy bed, in a nicely decorated room of the colour orange. Where am I?

I scan the room looking for some recognition of to where I am, when I lock eyes with a pair of magical blue eyes. A muscular, tall boy stands by the open window, watching me with worry. Obviously around my age. He has wavy, blonde locks that fall gently over the edges of his face. His face is in the shape of a heart. His eyes are definitely his strongest features, being bright and big. They fill this dark world with light. His tight shirt makes a perfect view for his perfectly toned arms. He is beautiful. And I have never seen him before…

I scoot backwards, making my back connect hard with the backboard. Ow. I hit my head and images rush to my vision. Dying. My breaths become heavier. Am I dead? I start sobbing. Finn. "Hey, hey, shh it's okay. You're safe now."

The mystery boy slowly makes his way to sit on the edge of the bed that I'm sitting on. I shift quickly, putting as much distance between me and this maybe danger. "Who are you?" I whisper.

He chuckles. "Sorry, let me introduce myself, I'm Peeta Mellark."

His hand stretches out towards me. I just look at it. It finally falls back into his lap. "What happened, why am I here?"

"I found you whimpering behind my Dad's bakery and when I got to you, you were basically unconscious, just murmuring 'Finn'. I couldn't just leave you there, you look about my age and I just thought 'what if she were one of my friends'. My house is empty for the day so I brought you to my house. I got you to swallow some soup and water but you've basically been out for an hour. I'm sorry."

He's drifting into his own world. "Why are you apologising?"

"You look terrified and I've done that." He looks sad.

We stay in silence. My stomach breaks it. I feel the blood rush to my cheeks and look down. "Oh I'm so sorry, do you want some food?"

He may have been asking me but he instantly jumps to his feet and goes over to a little table at the door of the room, were a plate of bread sits. I almost drool just at the sight of it. I may feel a bit better with water and the heat of a house but I'm still starved… but I can't. "No thanks." I can't help but act polite.

I still don't know if this guy is a threat or not. I shouldn't get him angry. He still might be dangerous, even if he is only fourteen.

He looks stunned. "Not to be rude but I think you should eat."

"I'm don't need charity." I barely whisper.

"Don't think of it as charity."

I think he may be getting slightly annoyed. I have to go.

Standing up, I feel dizzy and my legs buckle underneath me. "Whoa there."

Peeta catches me and sits me back on the bed. I shiver at his touch.

"What am I going to do with you?" he murmurs to himself.

It surprises me he hasn't asked the main two questions. "Don't you want to know what happened to me?"

He smiles. "I know you will never say in a million years."

This boy is smart. "True. Why else did you save me? You don't even know my name."

He sighs and sits next to me on the bed, to my surprise I don't pull away. "I may not know your name but I know you need my support and anyway you wouldn't say your name probab-"

"Katniss" I blurt.

He looks at me, confused. "My name is Katniss. Katniss Everdeen."

A big, toothy smile appears on his face, making me give a small grin. "Did you just do that to prove a point?"

I shrug, not knowing the answer myself. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you Katniss, though I wished we met under different circumstances."

He is avoiding the true question. "So why did you save me?"

Another sigh comes out his mouth. "Well this is going to sound weird but I just knew… I couldn't leave you, it was just… I don't know something." He blushes.

Huh? "Huh?"

He gets up and brings the plate of bread over. "Will you please eat it."

I shake my head but I'm staring at it wordlessly.

"Think of it like this, its not charity as you are giving me something in return. You're making me happy by you being happy. You're doing me a favour." Pause, "Besides, it's stale anyway. Sorry."

I ponder. When I think of it like that it's not so bad but I shouldn't. I'm barely finished that thought when my hands reach out to the little roll.

I rip a small chunk of and swallow, not tasting it. My stomach is more satisfied already. "Thank you" I whisper.

He pleases me as he gives a lovely crooked smile. "It's my pleasure."

And I know I've made a friend for life.

My saviour

The boy with the bread.

My Peeta Mellark.