Work Text:
I stare out the window, watching the scenery going by in a blur as we return to Twelve. It suits my mood, everything lately is a blur. This Victory Tour, a unique form of torture. Each stop is worse than the previous, forced deeper into this farce of a relationship with Peeta.
Peeta. I don’t know what to think anymore. This whole situation is such a mess. I played the game to survive, he played it for love. Which one of us was the bigger fool? He keeps me sane, I know that much. The nightmares retreat when I’m held tightly in his arms, the steady thump of his heart beneath my ear.
Being in his arms, whirling around the dance floors of the parties we were forced to attend, finding solace in each other in the dark of night. His face haunts my dreams, that kiss we shared in the cave, the one that made me realize what those whispers and giggles of the girls back home had been about when they’d discussed boys. My body sings at his touch, heat building between my thighs, a restlessness that can only be calmed by his hands.
He won’t even look at me now, my bed is cold and empty, the nightmares coming with alacrity the second I close my eyes. I wake screaming, covered in sweat, fear coating my tongue like acid. I wish sometimes that I had died in the Arena. Then I wouldn’t be a tool in Snow’s vicious hands. My family would have been safe, not pawns in a dangerous game that they know nothing about.
We’re nearly to Twelve, the trees becoming denser. High pines, thick foliage, rolling mountains. It should ease my troubled soul, yet all it does is make me nauseous.
I hear him before warm fingers curl into mine, the space between us crackling with intensity. My gaze darts to his face and the sad smile I see on it guts me.
The whistle blows and we pull into the station. His fingers squeeze mine lightly and I choke back a sob as he lifts our hands, the sad smile morphing instantly into a wide grin as the train stops in front of the madly waving crowd. I paste what I hope is a decent smile on my face and fight back the churning in my stomach as my eyes find Prim’s. This is my life now, hiding behind a mask not of my choosing.