Just a Game {Everlark}

Chapter 9

It isn't long after we receive the letter when we start getting phone calls and letters from reporters. A few new broadcasters have been established in the last year or so, which is a good thing because we get different perspectives from everyone, and a bad thing because now there's more of them to harass us with interview invitations and cameras in our faces.
It has all come rushing back, and suddenly it's just like it was after our first games. Everyone wants to see us, talk to us, know what we're doing, who we're wearing.
The only invitation we have accepted is from one Caesar Flickerman, who wishes to have a 'private, intimate chat' with his favourite crowd-pleasers.
He got off lightly after the war. While he did support the Capitol's tirade and feed propaganda down the people's throats, he recanted and so was forced to lie low, because some citizens were calling for the blood of Panem's Liar.
Somehow, he has crawled back up the ladder and has taken a position on the entertainment show, Panem Tonight, which airs every Sunday night, along with several other hosting gigs during the week.

We felt or appropriate to give our 'exclusive' interview to him because frankly, we feel sorry for him.
While we may be damaged forever, broken, we have each other. Even the torture of the Capitol couldn't break the bond that we have shared. I don't know how I could've gone through the war alone, without my team, my family, and Peeta.
Caesar had nobody. He was a national disgrace after he was on the losing side to a war he didn't start. He has gone straight from under Snow's thumb to under the nations. He begged for forgiveness, all but grovelled on the floor just to live.
We might as well give him an interview.
For old times' sake, I find myself bitterly thinking, distracting me temporarily from my work.

My mother has come to visit, she came as soon as I told her we were wanted in the Capitol. She has me learning to knit, something I almost laughed at when she suggested it, but it's prove harder than I originally thought, and I'm glad she's trying.
I glance over at her in the flickering, dappled light of the fire. She looks older, lines of worry and age etched on her face. However, she looks happy. I know she misses Prim and our father every day, but, just like I do, she remembers the fondness in my fathers eyes and the shine of my sisters hair, not the sadness. We've all dwelled too long on the sadness.
"Katniss, i think you're getting the hang of it." She smiles at me, and m surprised to smile back. Close with her is something I have never been, until recently. The distance does us good.
"Thank you." I look down, and comparing my shoddy work to hers is laughable. I have six lumpy, uneven lines, that have several holes and knots, and she has almost thirty patterned, perfectly done rows after only about an hour.

She notices me staring out the window.
"Peeta has been gone a while." My mother says, looking at me.
"Mmm." I mumble, preoccupied. He had gone out two hours earlier and I have no idea where he is. A niggling pain in my stomach is starting to set in. I'm always worried that he'll have had one of his episodes. One of his attacks, alone. I know how strong he is, and how much damage he could potentially do to himself...
I look down when I feel my mother's warm hand on mine.
"I'm sure he's fine, Katniss. Don't worry." She gives my hand a light squeeze, and I give her a weak smile back.
"Yeah." Is all I can say, giving the window one last long look before shutting the curtains.
If he's not back soon, I'll go out to find him.

***

Two hours later, my mother has retired to bed.
As far as she knows, I have too.
But instead of being in bed, asleep, I am hugging my arms around myself in my leather hunting jacket to keep warm, wondering where Peeta is and sick to my stomach with the oddest feeling of dread.
Having checked the town, I know my only option is the forest.
My breaths puff in front of me like smoke and I wish I'd brought a warmer jacket.
Once I reach the meadow, I have a thought.
I look up and squint at the graveyard, where I can just about make out a figure moving.
It must be Peeta.
He's okay.
As hard as I'm trying to convince myself, I'm not feeling at ease in the slightest.
Despite my better judgement, I trudge toward the graveyard, up the hill, the dewy grass dotting my boots.
As I get closer I notice blonde hair and a body frame very similar to that of Peeta. It's bent over something.
A grave.
This is a ridiculous hour for him to be tending Prim's grave.
Peeta wouldn't do that.
Not unless..

I slip in the gate.
My heart is hammering hard, and my throat seems to have closed up.
"Peeta.." I almost croak, and the figure in front of me slowly turns and straightens up.
I look in to his eyes, which are always a telltale sign of his mental state.
I feel relieved to see that he is not having an episode, but frightened at the tears rolling down his cheeks, the redness in his eyes.
"Katniss I'm so sorry." He whispers, and steps to the side.
I cannot quite contain the strangled gasp I hear myself make as I take in the sight in front of me.
The sight of my sisters destroyed grave.

---

Hiya :)
I'm sorry to end this at an intense part! You guys know how I love my suspense..
What the heck just happened here?
What do you guys think?
Favourite, share and comment- I love hearing from you guys :)x
Love always,
Jocelyn x