Chapter Text
I take in the meadow of white and lilac spring flowers that surrounds me, trying to work out exactly where I am. I look to my left to find Rue sitting with her back to me in a patch of particularly beautiful flowers, her pure white dress pooled around her. It's such a calming, peaceful sight that I can't keep from smiling. That is, until she turns to face me and I see the spear in her stomach, blood gushing from the wound.
Her big, round eyes look up at me, brimming with tears, pleading for help. I try to run to her but I'm frozen to the spot. I try to call to her but I can't speak. The flowers around her become drenched in blood, too much blood to have ever fit in her tiny body.
I blink and suddenly Rue is gone leaving someone else in her place. Prim. Dripping with blood from the same spear wound that took Rue from me.
"Why did you let them kill me Katniss?" She asks. "All you had to do was pretend to be in love. Are you really so cold? So emotionless that you couldn't even fake it? To save me?" Her face grows ever paler as yet more blood pours out of her and her eyes scream at me for help. I try desperately to go to her, to speak, anything, but all I can do is watch.
She slowly stands up and I finally manage to reach out my arms to her, relieved that she has the strength to stand. My brief moment of relief is quickly shattered though as claws burst from her fingers and blonde fur begins to grow rapidly from her skin. Her nose elongates until it becomes a snout. Then this mutt, my little sister, comes bounding towards me. Still unable to move or speak, I simply stand there.
As her razor-sharp teeth begin to close on my throat, I finally get out a scream.
Clutching at the sheets around me, I stare into the dark of my room on the train and realise that, unlike the scene that just unfolded before me, my screams are real.
There's a knock on my door, but Peeta comes in before I can even answer. I'm not able to speak, but I'm aware of holding out my arms towards him. He climbs into my bed and presses me to his chest, whispering reassuring words that I don't really hear. He holds me until my screams become sobs and my sobs become whimpers, and eventually, I'm quiet.
Even as my crying quiets I cannot shake my despair. The despair from my nightmare. From spending the day looking at the parents of children who died while I get to live on. From knowing that everyone I hold most dear will be killed if I don't impress Snow. From all the twisted images of death I see every time I close my eyes.
Peeta smooths my hair and kisses my forehead until my crying subsides. I lie back down on my pillow, pulling him with me, looking straight into his eyes which I can just make out in the dark.
"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks. I shake my head. We lie quietly for a few minutes as I try to get the nightmare out of my mind.
"I just want to feel something good again," I whisper to him. I feel so selfish even thinking about my own feelings, but I don't know how much longer I can take this ever-present misery. Before the games, things weren't perfect, but compared with now they were as close to perfect as I could wish for.
I try to remember the last time I was happy, the last time I felt positive and hopeful. The last time I felt something truly good. I think of swimming in the lake with my father. Laughing with Prim as Buttercup plays with our mother's yarn. Walking for hours in my favourite part of the woods with the sun on my face and Gale by my side. I would do anything to experience the contentedness and warmth of those moments again.
"You will feel something good again. When the Victory Tour is over, we'll be able to put this behind us. Well... not put it behind us exactly," he backtracks, "but our lives won't be void of happiness, Katniss. There will be happy moments. There will be moments when we forget."
I know he's right, but those moments will be so few and far between. It will be hard to forget when President Snow is watching our every move. When we are married against our will. When we return to the Capitol as mentors every year to send children to their deaths.
"Maybe," I agree anyway, too tired to argue, "but it's been so long. I don't know how much more of this I can take. I just want to feel something good here. Now." Something to distract me from the horrors that torment my every waking moment and don't even subside when I sleep. Just one moment of distraction, one moment of warm feeling.
Peeta reaches up and strokes my face, seemingly unsure of what to say. I look into his eyes, the eyes of the only other person in the world who knows exactly what I'm going through. The eyes of the boy who loves me so completely he'd be willing to die for me, even though I give him so little in return. The boy who in another time, another place, maybe I could grow to love. If loving him wasn't something forced upon me. If it didn't mean our children being sent to their deaths.
Apparently still unable to think of the words to comfort me, he leans forward and gives me a soft, lingering kiss instead. I let myself appreciate a kiss from him with no cameras around. His lips are soft and cool, so different to the dry, scorching ones I kissed in the arena. They're so soothing and his arms so steady that I still seem frantic in comparison, despite my nightmare being pushed from my mind. For the seconds it lasts, I feel a small amount of relief from the constant grief and sorrow I'm overcome with lately. It's a distraction, it's… something good.
I want to do it again. I reach around the back of his neck and pull him back towards me. As I deepen the kiss my body finally stops shaking and becomes almost as steady as Peeta's. I try to focus only on Peeta's lips and the feeling they cause inside me, to push everything else aside and allow this to overtake my mind.
A feeling I've had once before, in the cave, steadily rises within me. It is so welcome over the constant pain that has overwhelmed me lately, I cling desperately to it. Ignoring the fact that there will be consequences to my actions, I pull Peeta even closer and let my body lead rather than my mind. Before I can even think about it my hands are beneath his shirt. Closer. I want to be closer to the one person on earth who understands. I feel his hands on the back of my top but it's not enough, I want them on my skin. Our kissing becomes rough and I take his hand myself and slip it under my top where he grips my waist. I reach for the hem of his shirt to remove it but he grabs my hand.
"Katniss. We can't- you're upset. I'd be taking advantage," he whispers breathlessly.
No no no, I think, the good feeling starting to slip away as I watch him force himself to pull back. It's obvious he wants it too, but he won't do it. I need to convince him that it's ok. I don't want to go back to the suffering, I need this distraction.
"You wouldn't be, you wouldn't be. I want this, Peeta, I do," I say slightly frantically.
He narrows his eyes as he considers me for a few seconds. I try my best to smile at him even though every second he's not touching me I get closer and closer to falling back into despair. Trying to mask my desperation as confidence, I lean up and kiss him gently. "Be my something good."
He stares at me for a few seconds, checking to see if I mean it or if he just wants me to mean it. I see my own hunger reflected in his eyes and his lips come crashing down onto mine, his hands all over my body. I lose myself, my mind empty of everything apart from this newfound bliss.
-
Guilt. That's the first thing I feel afterwards, when the pleasure fades and I come back to my senses. There was hardly any pain; I've heard of girls bleeding and crying during their first time but for me it was quite easy, I guess because I wanted it so badly. Peeta has fallen asleep beside me, a small, satisfied smile on his face even now.
I sit up and try to find my night clothes and underwear in the dark, feeling self-conscious even though Peeta isn't awake to see me.
How could I? How could I use Peeta when he loves me so? More importantly, how could I put my family out of my mind when it's my fault that they're in danger? Prim, my mother, Gale? They should be consuming my thoughts as it's my fault that they could be killed at any time. I deserve my constant state of despair. I deserve the nightmares. I don't deserve something good.