Last night, my dreams were filled with awful images of my son skewered, poisoned, stabbed, and beheaded. Truly, is there anything worse than your child's life ending before your eyes and there's nothing you can do about it? As a parent, it's my job to keep him safe. If I can't do that, then what am I really? And I can't. Not when he's in the arena.
The Games start at ten, enough time for the Capitol residents to rise and have a leisurely morning. But for us in the districts, we're expected to get on with our day. Go to work. Make breakfast. Everything sets my teeth on edge today.
My boys suggest we watch the Games in the square, but I tell them I can't handle the crowds. People pressing in on all sides will make the whole nightmare that much more ghastly. So we sit in the living room, nails digging into our skin, teeth gritted together in anticipation, as the clock counts down.
Sixty seconds. The amount of time Peeta has to live without being hunted. Fifty-nine. Fifty-eight. Fifty-seven.
"There's plenty of items scattered around the ground this year. Maybe he'll pick up something useful," my son says, without much enthusiasm. The reality of it all has finally set in. All these tributes circling each other will turn into murderers in forty seconds. Thirty-nine.
My son flashes onto the screen and everyone tenses. By now he'll have taken everything in, hopefully formed a plan to get some of the precious items and escape to the woods. But Peeta isn't looking at the Cornucopia. He's not even looking towards the woods. He's glancing down the line, his eyes searching for ... for Katniss.
"The fool," my wife mutters. "Doesn't know he can't save her, too? Unless -" She stops and I realize what she's implying.
"You think he's going to sacrifice himself for her? To protect her?" my other son says, the shock registering on his face.
"The bloody fool."
There's no point in pretending. I know that's what Peeta's plan is. The gong rings out and my son is thrown into hell.
The morning is splattered with blood. For the next few hours, the cameras switch between shots of the tributes who made it into the woods - including Katniss - and the battle raging at the Cornucopia. Already a dozen tributes are down. Peeta hardly collects anything before sprinting for the shelter of the trees. That's what you get for getting caught up in staring at your crush. In fact, the only thing he leaves the Cornucopia with is a knife. He makes good progress in the trees, though. The branches nick his face neck, leaving him with painful looking slices. Still, he's about as safe as you can get in an arena full of people trying to kill you.
I eat my words after another half hour when the Careers find him. He outruns them for a bit until his ankle catches on a dip and he stumbles. Trapped on the ground, the pack circles him like wolves. My wife lets out a little moan as she throws her hands up.
"Hey, Lover Boy," a small girl holding several knifes croons. "Thought you'd be with Katniss." She throws a knife that makes a nice deep gash in his arm.
"I - I was going to meet up with her," Peeta says. It's not his most convincing lie, but it comes out fast enough to be taken for truth.
"Well that's just too bad because I think the Games end for you right -"
"Wait!" Peeta holds up his free hand - the other is trying to stem the flow of blood gushing from the knife wound. "Maybe we can make a deal." He's talking quickly now. "I'll - I'll help you find Katniss if you let me join your pack. Look, I'm strong and I can hold my own with this knife. Besides, Katniss is the one who got the eleven in training. Isn't she the one you want?"
The angle switches to Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith, the commentators for the Games.
"Claudius, this is a risky gamble," Caesar is saying. "Could he and Katniss possibly have arranged this? Or is Peeta Mellark showing his true colors - using his lover as leverage? I wonder what's going on his head?"
It's a very good question. Even I can usually guess what's running through Peeta's mind, him being so much like myself, but my mind is blank. Peeta's not a backstabber. And yet… it would be an excellent plan. To use Katniss to get sponsors, keep himself on the screens, and then join the Careers which would insure his survival at least for a little bit. Yes, it would be an excellent plan, but also a despicable one. And that's one thing Peeta isn't.
They cut to the arena again. Peeta's still on the ground, but the Careers have lowered their weapons slightly.
"Look, you don't know Katniss like I do. I'll be able to track her down and then we'll ambush her," Peeta is saying.
The girl from One raises an eyebrow. "Are you implying that we wouldn't be clever enough to find her on our own?"
"No, but it would be more efficient if you have someone who might have inside information on the girl you're tracking down."
"Do you know how she got that eleven in training?" one of the boys asks.
"Maybe," Peeta answers elusively. "I might have a guess or two. But I won't tell you unless we agree to be allies."
"Watch it, Twelve. If we let you join us, you have to abide by our rules and stick by your promise. At the first sign you might be doing something behind our back, we'll kill you," the girl with the knives growls. She puts a knife to his throat. "Swear it."
"I swear, I swear! I'll help you find Katniss! I'll hold up my end of the bargain."
The girl pulls her knife away and grabs the blonde boy by the arm. One of the beasts. "Come on, Cato. Lover Boy, you stick close. Wouldn't want you wandering off."
"What's he thinking?" my son asks, squinting at the screen as if to recognize his brother. "Teaming up with the Careers? Even if he does come home the district's not going to be happy with him. Sure, it'll keep him alive for a bit, but at what cost?"
My wife snorts. "Who gives a damn about what the district thinks? The boy finally had the sense to leave the girl and try to save himself."
But I'm not so sure those are his motives. Whatever the case, my son's far from safe. It's clear the Careers are waiting for the perfect excuse to strike him down. If he's still with them when the field is narrowed down, I'm sure killing him is the first move they'll make.
I hope you have a plan, Peeta, I think. This could be a deadly move.