Chapter Two

That night, I toss and turn on the hard mattress that I share with Prim. Too many things occupy my mind - Gale, his family, my family, being pregnant.

It won't sink in.

I'm pregnant, carrying a baby, something I never wanted.

A baby. Another mouth to feed. That's what I think of this thing inside of me. A problem. An accident. A mistake.

Babies are supposed to be made out of love. I didn't feel love when I was with him. I felt hunger and desperation. I wanted for someone to comfort me, to look after me. I didn't know this would happen. I didn't think of the consequences when I did it. I completely forgot that pregnancy was even a possibility.

I remember all the times that I have seen young girls pregnant, the look of disgust I would give them. How could they be so stupid? Why would they want to bring an innocent child into this cruel world?

I was wrong to judge. I know how they feel now... Now that I am in the same situation.

The night of the reaping, the night we did it, repeats in my mind over and over, haunting me, not letting me forget.

(Flashback)

I silently creep out of the house, not wanting to wake my mother or Prim. It had taken three hours to get Prim to stop crying over the results of the reaping. My mother had gone into her silent, depressive self as soon as we arrived back home after saying our goodbyes to Gale in the Justice Building. Since we returned she has sat on her bed and stared at the wall, forcing me to be strong for Prim.

After tossing and turning in bed for an eternity, I cannot stay in the house any longer. I make my way towards the meadow in the dark night, where I plan to slide under the fence to get to the woods. If I want to grieve over Gale, I need to do it in peace.

As I come closer to the overgrown meadow I notice in an instant that someone else is here, the light from the moon making the body visible in the dark night. The person sits on the damp grass a few yards away with their back to me. I clear my throat loudly so they know they are not alone, as I continue making my way forward.

The further I walk the more I pick up on. The person is male. He is strong. It's when I am walking past him and I sneak a quick glance his way do I stop as I realise who it is.

Peeta Mellark.

He looks up at me from his spot between the long strands of grass, and our eyes meet. I can tell in the moonlight that he has been crying, the skin around his eyes all red and puffy. His eyes, which are normally brighter than the sky on a hot summer day, are now a dark, heavy blue. His curly, blond hair is an unruly mess and it makes me wonder if he had been tossing and turning in bed also.

His closest friend, Delly Cartwright, is the female tribute, chosen by Effie Trinket's hand to fight in the arena against twenty-three other tributes.

I open my mouth to say something - I don't know what - maybe an apology, but then I think better of it and keep my lips in a firm line. We have never spoke a word to each other despite being in the same year at school. The only time that we have ever interacted is when he threw me the bread that saved my life. The next day, he came to school with a large bruise on his face. I still haven't thanked him for what he did.

Unsurprisingly, he is the first to speak.

"Gale," he starts, his voice weak and quiet. "He was - I mean - is... your boyfriend?"

It's not what I thought his first words to me would be.

I never expected him to want to talk to me at all after he saved my life. He must think badly of me because I didn't thank him. Still, I can't just stand here like an idiot. I can either answer him and sit down or escape to the woods.

I suddenly realise that he knows what I am going through.

With a sigh, I lower myself onto the ground beside him, making sure to leave a gap between us, before copying his position by pulling my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. I don't look at him; just stare at the fence a few yards in front of me.

"No. We're only friends."

"Oh," Peeta whispers. "Still, I'm sorry."

"Me too," is all I say. There's a short silence. "Was Delly your-"

He cuts me off. "No. She's like a sister to me."

I swallow hard as I think of Prim, what I would do if she ever got reaped.

"He'll come home," Peeta says. I turn my head so I can look at him. His eyes are still on the fence. "He hunts, right? If he can use a weapon then he'll have a chance. He's strong. He'll be able to go without food for a few days. Delly, well, she couldn't hurt a fly."

I see the tears well up in his eyes and I start to feel guilty. We both know that Delly isn't coming home. Peeta's right. Gale is strong and can use a bow and arrow and can hunt food down with his snares, but Delly can't do anything.

"I hate this," I whisper, tears filling my own eyes once I have turned to look at the fence again. "I hate the Games and Snow and how he makes us live like this."

"You can't say those things here, Katniss," Peeta whispers and, again, he is right. Saying this could get me in big trouble if a Peacekeeper was around to hear me, but I don't care anymore. The Capitol took my best friend away from me and he might not come home.

"I don't care," I hiss, though I'm not angry with the boy next to me. "Snow took him like he took Delly. I have to feed Gale's family along with mine. I have to be strong for everyone. I can only grieve when I'm alone. What if he doesn't come back? You have so many friends. I have just Gale."

I feel a strong arm wrap around my shoulders and I tense up at the action before relaxing and instinctively leaning into his touch. It's been so long since I've been comforted, since I've been held. "He'll come home, I promise," Peeta whispers, and he buries his head in my hair.

This is wrong, I know. I'm getting comfort from a boy that is going to lose his best friend. I should be comforting him. Still, I can't seem to pull away. If anything, I want to lean in more.

"If he comes home... Delly won't," I tell him, though I'm sure he already knows this.

"I know, but everyone knows, as much as I hate to admit it, that Delly doesn't stand a chance. She'll last a few days, maybe a week if she escapes the Bloodbath and hides, but Gale has a much better chance. We could get a winner this year."

One of Peeta's hands rub my arm, causing goose bumps to crawl up my skin. I turn my head and lift it until we're looking at each other again. Peeta is staring at me so intently that I'm sure he can see right through me. He knows that I feel vulnerable.

His hands come up to wipe the tears from my cheeks and I press one of my cheeks into the palm of his hand, craving his warmth on this cold and wet night.

I close my eyes, enjoying the warmth I feel as Peeta strokes my cheeks with his thumbs. Keeping my eyes closed, I subconsciously lean in until my lips press against his.

I pull away, as quick as lightning, my cheeks heating up. I scold myself for doing such an idiotic thing.

Not meeting his eyes, I go to stand up, when he catches my arm and tugs me back down so I'm looking him in the eye. We stare at each other for what seems like forever before he lowers his head towards mine, giving me time to push him. My eyes flicker to his lips, watching as they come closer and closer. I close my eyes just as his presses his lips to mine.

Unlike my kiss, which was quick and soft, this is slow and sensual. My arms reach up and around his neck, pulling him even closer as his hands come to rest on my waist.

I let my fingers tangle in his curly, blond hair. He leans backwards, falling onto the wet grass, and pulls me on top of him, letting my unexperienced self guide us.

I have never done anything like this before, never wanted to. But, now I have started, I don't want to stop. I don't want Peeta's kind hands to stop comforting and caring for me.

I don't even feel embarrassed. I feel like a completely different person, like someone or something has taken over my body. This doesn't feel like me. I never do things like this. I never have time to. Peeta pulls his lips from mine and smiles up at me, though the smile doesn't reach his eyes. I just look at him, like I am looking at a stranger.

What now?

What comes next?

He flips us so my small frame is underneath his large and muscular one. He presses a quick kiss to my lips before he stops and looks me in the eyes.

"We should stop," he says, his voice soft and gentle, like his hands that run up and down my sides.

"I don't want to," I whisper, my voice vulnerable. "Please... I just want to feel something. I just want to forget."

He narrows his eyes at me, realises I am using him, just like I thought he was using me as a way to forget today. I swallow, wonder if he is going to pull away from, before he nods slowly and, once again, lowers his lips to mine, continuing what we started.

It is awkward and rushed. Our uncertain hands go to foreign places. I tell myself that, by doing this, I am not like one of the girls at the slag heap. I wonder how many times Peeta has done this before. Then, when he quietly tells me that he doesn't know what he is doing, I realise he is as new to this as I am.

After, it slowly dawns on me what had just happened. What we did. I almost choke on the air that surrounds us as I bolt upright, my wide and alert eyes looking for my clothing that had been thrown across the grass a short while before.

I scramble to my feet, throw my clothes onto my trembling frame.

Peeta jumps to his feet and scrambles for his own clothing. "I'm sorry. I am really, really sorry. What... I... No. What did we just do?"

I look at him, my face not expressing the emotion I feel. "Do not say a word of this to anyone," I order, forcing myself to blink back the tears that come to my eyes.

Peeta abruptly nods his head, opening and closing his mouth as if he is trying to say something. Once I am fully dressed, I glance at him one last time, before I turn my back on him and run to the woods, out of his sight.

(End)

Just thinking about that night makes my heart beat faster and faster in my chest. I have spent so many years caring for other people, looking after other people... I just wanted to feel something. I wanted someone to do something for me. But now, that something, has caused this. My life is ruined.

I should probably tell Peeta but, if this is going to ruin my life, then it is going to ruin his even more. I can only imagine what his cruel, abusive mother would do to him; probably hit him like she did after he burnt the bread, on purpose, to save my life all those years ago.

His mother hates anyone who isn't from Town. His friends will probably stop talking to him for getting a 'Seam slut' knocked up. It would be better for him and maybe even myself if I keep this from him. But, if I don't tell him, he won't know that he has a child and, the child growing inside of me, will grow up without knowing who their father is.

I take a few minutes to ponder over what I should do, thinking carefully over the positives and the negatives of telling him, before I come to a final decision.

I am not going to tell Peeta Mellark that I am carrying his child.