Up In Flames

Chapter 7

All I want is for this to be over, is that two much to ask? I close my door, then crumble down behind it. I hold my knees. I don't know why I'm so angry at Peeta, he probably was just giving advice.

I hear footsteps nearing and I freeze, not letting out a breath. A hand knocks at the door.

"Katniss?" it's Peeta "I'm sorry..." I wait, without answering. "Well, I'll see you later, I love you" he walks steadily away. I listen intently, until all traces of him are gone.

Peeta's always saying that he loves me, but I don't know about me? Do I love Peeta? I think of my parents, of how my mother looks at my father when she walks into the room. He looks sickly, too weak to stand, her eyes are so filled with love and pain. Because I know she would do anything for him, except there's nothing she can do. But him, he just looks at her like she's a superhero, as if merely her presence makes him feel a hundred percent better.

If Peeta was sick like my father, I would probably want to do anything in my power to help him... When my father first got sick, I know my mother would have traded places with him in a heartbeat, to spare him the pain of living like that. But it seems, that the odds never are in our favour, especially when it comes to life.

I'm always seeing, how much I don't deserve Peeta. He grants me unconditional love, and I give him almost nothing in return. He's much too good to live in a world like this. He's always doing so much for everyone, slipping extra cookies in for kids that come to the bakery. He never does stop feeding people who need it. Not even me.

The first time I met Peeta officially was when I was eleven years old. A month after my dad got sick. He'd just collapsed, right at home. We spent what little money we had for medicine for him. And he hardly got better, we couldn't afford to buy what he needed, and he couldn't work. My mother didn't get a job either, she was sick with worry, her eyes stared emptily at my father's  thin form. things only got worse, we had no food, and poor Prim. Only seven at the time... I can still see visions of her hollow cheeks, my mother's empty eyes, my father's sickly face. We had nothing, and we're slowly starving to death, so I went out in the cold and the rain, trying to sell some of Prim's old baby clothes. When I got to the bakery, the baker's wife answered the door, yelling insults at my face. She pushed me out into the cold, then screamed at the sight of me trying to go through the dumpster. I was faced only with emptiness, as hollow as my stomach. I didn't feel like I could go on anymore, I just wanted to be done with. I selfishly didn't want to see my family's faces at the sight of my empty hands.

And then there was the flash of gold, still bright under the dim light streaming from the bakery. I heard yelling once again, although not directed at me. Then there was the boy, with the golden halo of hair, and clear cerulean eyes. My guardian angel of a sorts. He stumbled out into the rain, his eyes radiating warmth and honesty that didn't match with the growing red welt that spread across his face. Then it was the real magic, he pulled out two loaves of bread from behind his back, slightly burnt along one side.  I could see heat fly off them, it was amazing . The boy shoved them into my hands, and I just stared in awe.

"Ya" he said encouragingly "Theyre for you, and your family."

"I-I " I didn't know what to say.

"You don't have to say anything, just please?" I nodded without speaking. "Stay alive?"

"Thank you" I managed to choke out, then I stuck the bread under my shirt, letting the warm fuzzy feeling wash over me.

Then the next day, Peeta approached me, Announcing that he was going to be my friend. Help me out, because that what friends do. It was the day of the dandelion in the spring, the yellow bud signifying hope.

I finally got the courage to go into the woods, and take over for my father, and then I met gale.

I had tried to push Peeta away, but nothing worked, he never left my side. He walked me home, and slipped cookies to Prim, so I wouldn't be able to refuse them.

He was so persistent, not giving me a choice. He even asked me to teach him how to hunt; followed me right out into the woods. Gale hadn't been happy to have to teach a merchant boy how to hunt, but even he couldn't hate Peeta. We didn't get far, Peeta scared off most of the game, but he could shoot okay. He definitely didn't have the skills of a hunter.

It became the three of us, helping each other out, Peeta would trade us for game, sneaking extras into every trade. Gale and I supported most of the town's meat. Our system worked.

I step up off the floor, willing myself to open the door and apologize. But my body refuses to respond, so I turn around and lie down. Pulling the covers over my head, as if doing so would make my fears disappear.