Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games
Janelle POV
A knife. Blood. My blood. In Mr. Mellark's hand. His eyes are black holes. He's yelling at me. I can't hear right. He lunges. I scream. Pain rips through my torso. He yells again. His voice if fuzzy and his image is blurring. The room is spinning.
"Johanna!" He yells. Why is he yelling mom's name? Does he think I'm mom? If he's having a flash back he might. Everyone says I look just like she did when she was my age.
"I'm not Johanna." I plead. I taste blood in my mouth. I'm shaking all over.
"Liar." Then he reaches to stab me again. I duck. But something catches my attention across the room for a split second. A blonde haired boy with silver eyes stares at me. Then I feel something hard connect with my head and everything goes black.
I can't hear. I can't see. I don't even know if I'm breathing. I can't feel my body. Am I dead?
Suddenly the blackness changes and I'm watching a scene play before me in the woods I so dearly love. A small burnt honey haired girl with big brown eyes is running through the woods. Bare-foot. She's silent. Are her feet even touching the ground? Or am I still deaf? Then I hear her giggle. Definitely not deaf. She runs so silently the birds don't even notice her. She's happy. Just then dad runs up the trail hot on her heels. He's laughing too. He's younger. 13 years at least. The girl dodges his outreaching hands by running and jumping through the woods. She moves like a ghost. The girl is not very big, smaller than Maggie and dad has a hard time keeping up with her.
The girl turns her head slightly and trips on a branch. She stumbles down the hill, but picks herself up and keeps running as though her life depended on it. Still she smiles. The bits of sun peeking through the trees plays tricks on her face and hair.
She pulls away from dad now. Her long hair is a train behind her flowing in the summer breeze. The girl emerges at the edge of a cliff overlooking a pool of water. The lake. More noises come from the family of four across the lake. They are having a picnic of sorts at the old cabin. The parents are talking to each other. The older girl sings dreamily to herself. And the boy wanders the sand bank.
The girl pauses to watch him. She seems transfixed by his figure. He has curly bleached blonde hair and even from across the lake she could make out his doe like gray eyes. She knows who he is. He looks lonely. Not like his sister who thinks the company of a few flowers and a song is enough. He's looking for something. The girl tilts her head at him and slips. She catches herself but sends a rock off a 50 foot drop or so down to the water. It makes a splash, but no one seems to notice.
"Janey!" Dad calls to her. To me. I remember this is when dad and I were going on a hunting trip but during our break I decided to run. He chased after me, I found myself here. I know what comes next. Dad comes into view and sees little me at the edge.
"Don't!" My dad and whatever I am yell. But I know too well that even when I was little I didn't listen.
The younger me jumps. She lets out a small shriek of excitement. This is when the family of four looks up. Just in time to see me plunge into the water below.
I don't remember what happened next. But getting to see it in a different point of view is weird. My body, too small to uphold a jump like that (now it's no problem) is knocked out. I float a bit, but mostly sink. Suddenly, a mess of blonde hair is next to my body and pulls me to shore with incredible strength. Then, I feel warmth touching me where younger me is being touched by this boy. What is this? My weird ghost-spirit can feel his touch?
"Peyton." I breathe. When Uncle Finnick found out about this, he just laughed and so did Annie. I wasn't sure why. But then I overheard him talking to the other adults that he met Annie by pulling her body out of the water when they were young.
Then the scene changes and I see the girl, little me again, but I'm older. About 10 or so. I'm still in the woods. It's winter now. I'm not barefoot anymore. My hair lays down my back in gentle waves, and is a bit darker than when I was younger. I'm still silent as ever. This was around the time I decided I didn't like hunting all that much, though I was very good with a knife. I was just here to admire the weather. I wore the fur coat dad got me from District 2 when he was on a business trip though it was extremely puffy. When I got deep enough into the woods I shrug off the coat leaving me in in just my black pants, gray long sleeve shirt and boots. That's when I started running. It snowed about 6 inches last night, and it was lightly snowing now. I love the snow most of all, especially in the woods. The snow was already penetrating my feet soaking my socks, but I liked it. The thrill of all of the cold around me. The ways my blood gets pumping heating up my body with the cold surrounding me. It was still early morning.
The young me slowed down when she came to my tree. She quickly scaled it despite the cold and ice and watched the sun come up through the clouds. Though it was snowing, when the sun came up, it got a bit brighter. It shown a brilliant gray color. A very familiar gray. Similar to dad and Grayson's eyes. But a little different. The snow falling from the sky is soaking through the rest of her clothing now. Her cheeks are flushed with color and her brown eyes light up.
A twig breaks in the distance. I remember what happens here. But I will probably still be forced to watch it replay by whatever force is keeping me in this weird dream stage, though I don't really remember what happened in the end, similar to the first flash back.
Then it starts. Young me jumps down from the tree. "No get back up!" I yell at myself. But I don't listen. Instead I investigate where it came from. Typical me.
She walks around a bit. Then she finally gives up and turns to head back to the tree to watch the winter wonderland come to life under the gray sun. The three claw marks now scars down my back feel more alive like they did on this day. She reaches the tree and is about to head up, when she hears the growl. It still sends chills down my neck. My ghost, or whatever I am watches the young me from the tree. She turns and sees the wild dog standing in front of her. The dog is thin, because all of the prey is gone for the winter, and this dog obviously didn't follow its pack south. It was big and black with teeth bared at me, the same shape that haunted my dreams for a little over a year. Or so I told people. I still replay what I know of this memory on occasion in my subconscious. Each time I wake up sweating.
The dog has backed young me into the back of the tree. It's my height and has vicious yellow eyes. It sniffs me but I don't show fear just as I was taught. I stare straight back at it. It crouches challenging me. I've never taken on a full grown wild dog with nothing to defend myself. I keep staring at it. Its paw reaches to swipe at me, but it misses. Then my moment comes, an arrow lodges itself into the beast's side. It stumbles and whimpers. "RUN!" I yell at myself. I listen. But I'm not the only one who yelled run. 10 year old Peyton had a bow loaded with another arrow aimed at the beast. But young me didn't hear him. I had always wondered where the arrow came from. No one told me Peyton was the one watching over me.
Young me ran into the woods towards civilization. I was almost to the gate, when I heard a growl and felt something tearing into my back. I screamed out in pain and surprise. Then fell down to the ground. Before I blacked out I remember the wild dog staggering a bit then something brought it down. I now know that was Peyton. He kills it.
Then he picks me up and brings to my house. I can feel his arms on my ghost form where he touches younger me like before. I like it. He himself bandaged me up while I'm unconscious. The cuts weren't deep. Then he puts me back in my bed and goes back to the woods for my coat. He hangs it in my closet. Then turns out the light and leaves me to sleep.
Why is he doing this?
"Peyton." His name escapes my lips again. It's like I have no control over my voice, but I don't mind saying his name. It's comforting, in a way I only really felt in the woods.
The scene changes again and we're 13. We're at school. I immediately know what will happen here. This is not a memory that is fuzzy or interrupted by blacking out. Pre-teen me passes a classroom after school's out and hear voices coming from the closed room. It's our history room. I glance in through the window. Peyton is backed into a corner by the school bitch Isis. He's taller than her by a good head, but he still cowers from her. Grow a back bone Peyton.
She's rubbing her hands on his chest and messing up his hair. My fists are clenched. Not just mine, pre-teen me has her knuckles turning white too. My eyes are lit up and I have a death glare on my face. If I was someone else in our school, I might have been scared of me a bit. Then young Isis reaches up and is about to kiss Peyton. No. I will not allow this to happen!
Pre-teen me and my ghost burst through the door, and my young self marches over to Isis.
"What's your problem Isis?" I watch myself yell.
"What do you care Hawthorne?" Young Isis puts her hands on her hips.
"Your problem I don't give a fuck about. What I do however give a fuck about is you harassing Peyton. He did nothing to you. He's never hurt anyone." My voice trails a bit.
"I'm not hurting your buddy Peyton. I was just letting him know what he has coming." She says smiling.
"And that would be?" Younger me crosses her arms across her body (well, my body) but don't back down.
"You should know Jane. Peyton's an attractive guy. I'm just showing him what to expect in the future. You see, I'm going back to District 2 with my parents in a week and wanted to give Peyton a proper goodbye." She strokes his shoulder and he cringes. "But no need to fear. I'll be back before you know it." I feel suddenly very angry inside. She's touched him before, without his permission. I know he's never told anyone, he's just too nice to tell on her. Well I'm not.
"Isis get this through you thick skull. Peyton is not a guy you can just go around touching for your own pleasure. Because if you truly cared for him at all, you would recognize that when you're near him, he looks as though you're stabbing him with a needle."
She touches his chest again. "And you do know him?" I should shouldn't I? I grew up with him living next door to me. Then I catch on.
"If you mean do I care for him. Then your answer is yes I do care for him." Peyton's face lights up a bit. Something I didn't notice before.
Isis smiles snake-like. "Prove it Hawthorne." God I want to smack her so fucking badly!
"You want proof?" I ask. My pre-teen form is shaking. Swiftly and noiselessly younger me walks over to Peyton. He's taller than me. Pre-teen me looks into his eyes and suddenly I recognize his eyes. They're like the sun coming up on a winter clouded morning. The gray light that shines so brilliantly even in the snow. I shiver at the thought uncontrollably. Then something weird happens. My ghost form is thrust into pre-teen me just as I bring my lips to his. His lips are soft and warm. He smells like cinnamon and sugar from the bakery. I close my eyes and enjoy this moment that I was so carless to block out of my memory just a few hours ago. Why aren't my arms around his neck? Did it feel this good? Then my ghost form is thrown out back to watch. Pre-teen me pulls away from Peyton. His eyes are shining so bright that I want to melt. Pre-teen me clears her throat a bit obviously not wanting it to end, and I catch myself blushing a bit. Peyton looks frozen, and his face is red. I watch myself turn back to Isis who looks pissed. "Proof enough?" I ask mimicking her hands on hips look.
She huffs, and leaves the room. I haven't seen her since. Pre-teen me turns back to Peyton. "Sorry." I hear myself say. Then pick up my bag.
"What are you doing!" My ghost yells at younger me. "Get back there! You want more! GET YOUR ASS IN HIS ARMS!" But younger me continues to walk down the hall. "Oh Peyton." Ghost me says.
I turn to see Peyton's reaction but the scene changes one last time. I'm in a dark room. I'm not sure how much later in time we are. But judging on the past, it's going in chronological order. I must be closer to my actual age now. A bit of light is shown in the room and I move closer to get a better look. I gasp at what I see. It's me. On a table. Unconscious. I've been stitched up. This is from today's events.
Mr. Mellark. Knife. Blood. Blackout.
Someone is sitting next to my body crying. When my eyes finish adjusting, I see who sits at my side holding my hand. The boy who my visions have been about. The boy who's saved my life. And in a way, I guess I saved him. They boy who I've found my ghost unexplainably repeating his name. With shaggy blonde hair and bloodshot clouded winter morning eyes.
"Peyton." Wait what? Ghost me did not say that! That was me! Peyton picks his head up.
"Jane?" He asks voice cracking. "Jane are you awake?" My body shivers in reaction to his voice. He rubs my hand more. I can feel that in my ghost form. A warm feeling floods my being and I don't wish for it to ever end. But what does this mean? Sure I like him, but I couldn't… I mean I've known him my whole life… and he's always been there for me… plus he likes me… Could I?
I swallow. Peyton sniffles a bit. "I guess this isn't the best time for conversation." He starts talking. "But, I haven't talked to you in a while, and I've wanted to for a long time. I just never had the guts I guess. Ever since the kiss, my mind has kind of been everywhere. I remember the look on your face when you confronted Isis for me. You were so powerful and in control. You also looked like you wanted to yank her ribbons out of her hair." He laughs. "Do you remember the ribbon I gave you when we were younger? I didn't have any other present to give you that Christmas, but I wanted to get you something, so I went down to the store. Little toddler me, and asked the man for a ribbon to give to my girlfriend. He knew me and went into the back and brought out the one piece of shiny silver ribbon. So I gave it to you. I don't know if you really liked it or not. I was too scared to ask." He laughs again, but grows more serious. I know what ribbon he's talking about. It's one of my most precious items. I keep it I my journal. I always run my fingers over it when I have a nightmare. I need to hear more.
Ghost me moves closer to him. I want to hear him talk. His voice is captivating. Like a light at the end of a tunnel. Leading me home.
"I don't want to be too forward, but there's something I've always wanted you to know." He starts. "Jane, I've always been interested in you. You're the only person that I've ever met who makes me nervous and stumble over my words. When you're next to me, I feel like the most powerful person alive. When you walk into the room, my heart skips a beat and my palms begin to sweat. Now, I don't want to seem creepy, buy I can't get our kiss out of my head." He laughs to himself. "I know it sounds weird, but ever since then, I've known my true feelings. And I-"
"Peyton. Your mom wants you back home." Dad interrupts. NO WAY!
"Dad get out of here!" Ghost me yells. But they don't hear me. "Peyton." I turn to him. "What were you going to say? Peyton don't go!" But he can't hear me. He gets up and leaves the room. Ghost me starts feeling weak. What's happening? Then I feel the tugging. I'm being sucked back into my body. Will I remember any of this? Of course I will. I have to. I will find Peyton, and listen to what he has to say to me. Then, I will tell him how my heart beats fast whenever he's near, and that it makes me jealous when he's with other girls and that when I catch his sent or even the smell of cinnamon I feel dizzy in the head and warm all over.
I am back in my body fully now. I can feel the effects of the drugs on my body keeping me under, and I can feel the pain shooting through me. But it will pass.
When I wake, I will tell him how I love the feel of his lips on mine. I will thank him for all of the things he has done for me in the past. I will tell him how his voice can win me over. And how his eyes remind me of home.
I will tell Peyton Mellark that I love him.