I laid in the unfamiliar bed, tossing and turning for what felt like hours. Sleep did not come. I couldn't get past the fact that I was surrounded by his smell. The sheets, the comforter, the pillow. Everything in the room reminded me of Gale. Being in his bed was more than I could handle, but I had no means of escape. Leaving the bedroom would mean facing him in the living room, and I wasn't so sure that would be any better. Being with him that afternoon had left me a mess of mixed feelings. Being around him was uncomfortable, yet familiar. I was so angry at him for what he'd said about Peeta, but I couldn't bring myself to tell him that.

There had been a time when we hadn't had any secrets between us. Now, it seemed that was all that remained. That sentiment kept me up until almost sunrise, when I finally faded off from sheer exhaustion.

Sleep didn't come easy, and it didn't last long. It was difficult to gauge how long I'd drifted off for, but the sun had barely moved in its track in the sky. I woke up screaming from my normal Gale nightmare, no doubt attributed to my current location. I could still feel his calloused hands as he pulled me in and told me it was too late. I'd woken up before he'd morphed into Peeta.

As I detangled myself from the sheets, I knew I needed to leave. There was nothing here for me, not anymore. With the image of Prim being blown to bits still fresh in my mind, the last thing I wanted to do was spend another day around Gale. Just thinking of him sent my temper flaring.

His knock came on the door as I came to the conclusion. "Come in," I replied, busying myself with stuffing the few items I'd removed the previous night back into my bag.

Entering the room, he took one look at the bag, and whatever expression had been forming changed. "Running away already?" he asked. His tone was anything but amused.

"It was a mistake to come." Shoving my shirt from the previous day into the bag, I zipped it up and flung it over my shoulder. If only Effie could have seen me. I think it would have caused her to have a stroke, all my items from the trip stuffed into such a small bag. I could practically hear her protest that there wasn't even room for a cocktail dress in it, let alone a ball gown or two.

"Stay," he said. It was a request, but he said it with such a sense of urgency. As if leaving meant I would never return. And maybe it did. I wasn't sure. The only thing I was sure of was that I needed to get out of his home, out of his district, before the memories consumed me.

"I can't." I hoped he heard the conflict in my words. I wanted to, I did. I yearned for a way to sort things out with him. I missed having my best friend. Everything in District Twelve had changed since the war, and losing him only made things ten times worse.

But Prim. Skies above, Prim. One look at his face, and all I could see was her. I felt that annoying prick in the corners of my eyes again, and I willed away the tears. I'd cried enough in the past few months to last a lifetime, and I would rather catch fire again than cry in front of Gale now.

"I don't want to leave things this way between us, Katniss. Especially since I'm afraid I'll never see you again."

How did he know? But of course he knew. Gale knew me better than I knew myself sometimes. He probably took one look at me and knew I was going to scurry out like the coward I was.

"I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't. It's too soon. Everything is still so..." I lifted my hands to either side of my head, my fingers angled towards my cheeks. As if that explained anything at all. But I couldn't put the words together. The thoughts refused to be coherent in my head. I was focusing my whole attention on not looking directly at him, knowing I would fall to pieces if I did.

I moved past him, making my escape through the doorway. Unfamiliar with his home, I got turned around in the hallway and had to backtrack in the opposite direction. As I went back the way I came he stood in my way, and he didn't budge as I approached.

"Please," I said, but it made no difference.

"You think this is any easier for me?" he asked, agitated. "I still love you." His head dropped slightly as he confessed the words. "A part of me always will. That kills me, Katniss, because I know that I'll never be able to make up for the decisions I made. And I know that you're likely never going to let me. But I hope that, one day, you will at least be able to understand why I made them. For the greater good and for the freedom we all now have."

"Dammit, Gale," I snapped. It took all my strength not to push forward and shove him. "That's not good enough! Your good intentions, your regrets - which you don't even seen to have - won't bring Prim back. Nothing is going to bring Prim back. And nothing you're going to say will make it better."

I found myself not only mad at Gale, but furious with Peeta. Why had he even brought up this absurd idea? How in the world could he have possibly thought it would be wise for me to see Gale? A dark corner of my mind whispered that he'd done it intentionally, knowing it would drive the wedge between me and Gale deeper. But Peeta didn't have thoughts like that. Peeta didn't play those kinds of mind games. So why had he thought I was strong enough to deal with this?

"I know you're angry. You have every right to be, to hate me right now. But can you honestly say that you don't feel anything towards me at all?"

"It doesn't matter," I emphasized.

"It's all that matters," he argued. And though I should have seen it coming, though I ought to have been able to predict it, I was shocked when he closed the distance between us. His hands felt just as I remembered, just the way I dreamt, but it was a far cry from comforting. His kiss was similar to the first one we'd shared. Not at all doubtful or hesitant, but with an edge to it. The fact that I couldn't hold back the tears that trickled down my checks didn't deter him in the slightest.

I tried to push him away, but it only strengthened his hold and his resolve. He knew once he let me go, that would be it. I wouldn't forgive him for this assault. And I could tell, he wanted to prolong this small moment, this little delusion of his, as long as he possibly could.

I hated my body then, as it resigned to his grip. I forego pushing him away. My lips seemed to melt under his. The kiss was far from electric, but I was powerless to push him away, knowing it would only hurt him more. What had he said to me once? That I only ever kissed him when he was upset? Perhaps that's why, in that moment, I didn't push back harder. He was hurting, clear as day. It didn't seem to matter to him, however, that this was hurting me too.

When he pulled away, it took a moment to catch my breath. Releasing me, he took a step back and I almost doubled over, my eyes still clenched shut as I tried to hide the tears that had managed to escape. Then I straightened, and before either one of us knew it, I slapped him. Hard across his cheek, my hand vibrated and stung from the impact. Only as my hand dropped back to my side did I realize my entire body was shaking with rage.

Is this feeling what Peeta felt when he thought back on all the kisses we had shared during our first Games? Did he see them now as a personal affront, a tool used for the other person's whims? I didn't like being used like that. And though I had done it before to both of them to a certain extent, it gave Gale no right to return the favor now.

Then I said the one thing I knew would cut the deepest. The only thing I could think of that would ensure that Gale would let me pass without further protest. It hurt to say the words, but mixed with the anger I felt at his kiss, they almost felt justified. "Peeta is twice the man you'll ever be."

I didn't expect a response, but as I shoved pass him, he replied, "You're probably right. But you're no angel yourself."

I had to give him credit for finding his own deadly retort, the only one that cut through me like a sharpened knife as well. Because as I stormed off, hoping against all hopes that the train had a soon pending departure back home, I had to admit to myself that he was right.