Chapter 3- Burns

I don't sleep very well throughout the night, so instead I spend my evening tossing a ball of yarn at Buttercup's head. The mangy cat squalls angrily when I succeed in nailing him on the flank, but other than an angry hiss and a twitching tail, he just glares at me as expected.

I get up from the couch when Buttercup starts meowing for his supper and make my way to the kitchen with the tangled fur ball twining between my legs. The hardwood floor is cold and I don't bother turning the lights on as I tug the fridge open and pull out some leftover stew I hadn't finished eating yesterday.

The sky outside is a pale lavender as I set the food down in front of Buttercup, dawn just beginning to break. I sigh to myself. Another night without sleep. The weariness sets in just as the sun breaks the horizon as I watch Buttercup pick and choose among the bits of meat Sae had thrown into the mixture. And it is only when the sun reaches the middle of the sky that I get up and move upstairs to get dressed for the day.

I splash some cold water on my face after I dress in a dark green tank top and dark gray pants, staring at the reflection in the mirror. The girl, I note, looks nothing like Katniss Everdeen had. She is gaunt. Lifeless. The bags under her eyes speak plainly of sleepless nights and stressful memories. Her skin is pale, a ghostly shade that is such a drastic transition from my rich olive skin from roaming in the sun while hunting. There's no trace of emotion on the girl's face, and I uncomfortably turn away from the reflection. Is that what Haymitch and Sae see every day? Shame burns deep in my gut, scalding hot. They have been so kind yet I pay them back with unresponsiveness.

This fact alone sparks deep resentment for myself. But I push it away roughly, reminding myself that Prim is dead, Peeta is gone, and that I started a rebellion that killed so many.

"Its not your fault, you know."

I spin around to see Haymitch leaning against my doorframe, sipping from a glass of water he must have helped himself to in my kitchen. "I would tell you to make yourself at home, but it seems you already have," I bite back, ignoring his previous comment.

"Did you hear me, sweetheart? I know you think all that bad stuff happened because of you, but why can't you think about how many people you've saved?" He approaches slowly as if I'm going to flee from him until he's close enough to murmur quietly, "You recreated Panem. You stopped the Games. Imagine how many children would've gotten Reaped if you didn't do this."

"And you're sober," I snort in response, noting there's no alcohol on his breath.

"Nice observation, sweetheart. Now let's get going. My booze shipment is the only thing keeping me here."

We walk through Victor's Village without a problem. Nothing was touched during the war in this part of town. I feel guilt rise up as I think about everyone else's destroyed homes that were burned down to cinders, but Haymitch seems to sense this. He starts this game with me where we have to kick some bright white stone he found all the way to the train station, taking turns.

Kicking the stone turns out to be incredibly distracting and I hardly notice when we walk into town. Haymitch is humming to himself and I find myself almost enjoying accompanying him to the station. Haymitch doesn't bother me often, but he makes sure I'm alright. And because of that, I am grateful for his presence.

He stops the stone with his foot, making me look up instinctively. All around me, there are people milling about. Not just dark haired, gray-eyed Seam people. Not just blond, blue-eyes Merchants. But others. Strangers. Not from District 12.

"They're trying to mix the people of the Districts," Haymitch explains gruffly. "Part of reconstruction." I nod, but spot an empty, untouched plot of land amidst the piles of wood boards, cement, and work tools. "What's that?"

Haymitch blinks before muttering something unintelligible. I shrug. Perhaps they haven't gotten the land rights from the Capitol to build there.

We start the kicking game again, pausing every once in a while when someone happens to stop by and say hello, brave enough to ignore Haymitch's dirty looks. "Thanks," I mutter quietly after Haymitch chases off a particularly excited woman who wanted to see 'the Mockingjay'.

He doesn't respond, but after a bit of walking, he says, "They love you, you know."

We keep kicking the rock until we reach the station and there is already a bunch of railroad staff unloading large crates and barrels of supplies not too far from the loading dock. Haymitch excuses himself to speak to the manager of the train station while I sit on a bench to observe. I spot the rail car filled with the triangular trees that Sae had spoken to me about earlier and consider buying one for her later when they are shipped to the Hob.

Haymitch is in an intense conversation with the train manager, but soon he waves the man away and approaches me. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's get our stuff and get out of here." I couldn't have put it better myself.

However, he leads me away from the stack of packages that are piled in a pyramid by the station walls. Puzzled, I follow. I'm almost cautious as we approach the passenger section of the platform.

"Haymitch?"

He doesn't answer, sending a chill down my back. "Haymitch! What's going on?" We stop at a passenger car after pushing through a crowd of people coming off of the train. He waits impatiently, his gaze locked on the car hungrily.

I grab his arm and spin him around, irritated. "Haymitch-"

But I don't get a chance to continue because the passenger car door slides open with a hiss. I look up, embarrassed to be caught harassing Haymitch. Instead, I stop dead in my tracks. Blond locks of hair lie ruffled from travel. Piercingly gently blue eyes meet mine. But what causes the breath to catch in my throat is the glint of sunlight off the polished brass of a Mockingjay pin, attached firmly to the collar of the simple black t-shirt he wears.

Staring back at me is the boy I never thought I'd see again. The boy who promised me he'd come back to me. The boy who saved my life years ago. Peeta Mellark has returned to District 12.

I release Haymitch unconsciously, shock forcing me to take a step back.

"Katniss." My name coming from his lips doesn't seem real. Peeta takes a step forward and reaches out to me slowly. I don't move. My mind screams at me to get away, that I'm not right for him. But my body craves his touch. His hand caresses mine and I inhale sharply.

But his touch doesn't calm me. No. Instead, it burns. And all I can think about is how much I need to get away from the sensation.

And that's exactly what I do when I turn on my heel and leave without looking back.