Can't Pretend: Peeta Mellark

REAPING

In the waiting room, Alaric squeezed this old rosary a Haymitch gave her the day she got back from hunger games.

Alaric was still in a daze on a gurney and she still had sand in her hair. Some of it remained, no matter how many showers she took.

Sand from arena lingered, she was told,
until you go bald, and then you are able to concentrate on other things. What might they be, she wondered.

But today, in this waiting room, she squeezed the rosary tighter when she heard, louder than the gunshots crackling in her dreams, the real screams of August Allard right over there, the one who's
scrapped his elbow off the radiator.

Each week he came with his mother for her follow-up appointment. He sounded like the jet that took Alaric back at night to that little arena in the capital where the sand puffed up in mushroom clouds above the bullets as the tributes screamed
in their hovels louder

than that little boy screaming over there.
Maybe everyone in that waiting room listening to him scream could come with her now to that arena in Capital.

Sitting there, Alaric knew that boy's pain so well that in her fist this rosary no longer knew her prayers.

"Alaric." A voice announced taking the Barlow woman out of her thoughts. "Sorry." The woman apologized walking into the room.

"State your full name for the record, district, what game you won, age, and birthday." Dr. Alexander Mixter demanded not looking up from his paper.

"Alaric Snow Barlow, I am from district 11 and I won the 70th annual hunger games, I am 16 and my birthday is August 10." Alaric answered no emotion in her voice as her leg bounced up and down.

"All right so you know with the terms of wining the hunger games you are to be a mentor to the next Tributes of district 11." Dr. Mixter stated staring at the file.

"You are required to be present at the reaping next week. Sign here."

Alaric only rolled her eyes, it was dumb that the paper said she could refuse to be a mentor but President Snow said other wise.

The woman grabbed the pen letting out a small sigh as she signed her signature. "We'll see you next week at the reaping." Dr. Mixter smirked closing the file finally looking up at the woman. 

Alaric said nothing and stood up, "another thing Ms Barlow." Dr. Mixter announced causing the girl turn back. "Happy Hunger Games." Dr. Mixter smiled

Alaric had a cold stare on her face, only nodding as she walked out of the office.

After she had won the hunger games everything was semi back to normal but of course good things can never last forever.

Two years after the games Alaric's father had fallen in then a year after that her mother caught the same illness

Losing someone you care about so deeply is like the loss of a part of us. We feel so dry we won't be moved

We cry so loud, we won't be heard, But all of this won't bring them back. We try so much to cope with it We bottle them up, till we crack.

They eat us up like ulcer We feel so cold as though we are numb. But all of this won't bring them back.

We can hide behind this and feel terrible
We hurt all those that come so close. We cry and yell and feel unloved.

We try in vain to forget our world. But all of this won't bring them back.

In the midst of this we will lose something
That one we lost can cause us more But if we free our mind and hold ourselves A great lesson we will learn