Chapter Two

My name is Peeta Mellark. I am seventeen years old. My home is District Twelve. I was in The Hunger Games. I escaped. The Capitol hates me. Katniss was taken prisoner. She is thought to be dead. Most likely she is dead. It is probably best if she is dead. . .

"Peeta?" Delly asks, her hand resting on my shoulder. Her eyes show concern, an emotion I see on a daily basis. Everywhere I go in this underground prison, their sorrowful eyes follow me. Waiting to see if I'll break down. Waiting to see the hero they crown me as.

"I'm fine." I brush off, my eyes darting to look at my food. The meals here are all calculated out based on height, weight, the number of calories you're supposed to burn in a day, the amount you retained from the earlier day. Everything here is down to a T.

Honestly, it makes me sick how perfect everything is.

"Are you going to come to class with me today? We're going to visit the gardens here." Delly says, pushing her yellow hair behind her ear.

I don't want to go anywhere I want to tell her. But, she's all I have left. The only one I can truly trust anymore.

Haymitch is somewhere deep in this cave, drying off from his alcohol. It's best that I'm not anywhere near him right now. There were a few times back in Twelve when we ran out of liquor and he went through withdrawal. Considering how aggressive he gets off of his lifeline and how our last interaction went, I'm sure distance is the best option.

I've considered talking to Beetee, but as soon as he could sit up on his own, they wheeled him off to help with this rebellion. I mean, they literally took his bed and wheeled down to their top secret army bases. This all happened while I was still trying to process everything that had happened in my welcoming hospital bed.

There's also Johanna, but I hardly see her. I know she's not taking any of the classes like me. I've seen her exploring this dark and damp place and shouting at anyone who tells her that she has to follow her schedule. They've learned to just deal with her as long as she doesn't cause any harm. It's best not to mess with Johanna.

"Sure. I'll try." I say to Delly's offer. She smiles and nods her head.

So, Delly and I return our trays and follow the schedules inked onto our wrists. When we arrive at the classroom, everyone's eyes land on the sight of me. I'm sure I look just like a symbol should. Dark bags under my eyes, tangled curls, and a mentally unstable bracelet on my right wrist. Definitely someone to put their trust in.

But, Delly happily takes my hand in hers and leads me to a desk beside her. The teacher drones on and on about the rules in the garden and I feel a headache begin to pound in my left temple. The lights are brighter than before. So I close my eyes and place my head on my desk and hide myself with my arms.

I like the darkness I've created for myself. It's safe and protective from the eyes that are surely staring at me now. But, the teacher doesn't stop speaking, her voice carrying on and on.

"Peeta," Delly says, softly shaking my shoulders. I peek out, seeing her friendly smile. I return it and stand up. She holds my hand, acting like a guard from the other students' eyes in this class. I'm thankful for her.

As we tour their small patches of beets, I spot a patch of pink-and-white buds off in the corner. I walk away from the group, feeling like I was in a trace. My heart began racing in my chest. I stare at them, trying to remember why they were burned into my memory. "What are these?" I ask, cutting off the teacher, unable to come up with the name of these flowers.

She pauses, trying to comprehend what to do. She was just droning on and on about the importance of dedication to the plants here. "Um, those are onions." She slightly stutters. I nod my head and look back at them.

I reach out, gently touching the plant. Feeling them reminds me of their part in my past.

"For you," I say, handing Katniss the flowers found by the side of the tracks. We were coming back from the Games when we had stopped and gone for a walk. She painfully smiles, taking the gift.

Quickly, I rip the tops off and stuff them into the pockets of my gray pants. They remind me of her, even though that interaction later leads the truth of how she acted in the Games. But I don't care. It wasn't fair for me to hold her to what she did in the Games. Even if we aren't really lovers, at the least, we're friends, right?

The group begins to leave and I follow after them. Only, I was foolish to think they'd let me leave with those tops. Alarms began to blare as I step out of the garden. Guards quickly rush to me as Delly begins to shout for my innocence.

"What did you take?" A guard asks, holding out his hand to me.

"Just the tops of these onions," I say, pulling them out of my pocket.

"He didn't mean anything by it," Delly says, pushing through them to get to me.

"Everything grown here is used in the food to feed all of us. You need to return it." He continues, ignoring Delly. I tightly grip the tops in my hand, not wanting to them go. That would be like letting her go.

"I can't," I respond, looking down at the pink-and-white buds in my hand.

"You can't use them anymore, anyways. Just let him keep these and I'll make sure he doesn't take anymore." Delly says, protectively standing in front of me. The guards glance back and forth between each other.

"This one time. Next time, we'll bring this up with President Coin." They threaten. "Are we clear?"

"Crystal." Delly nods. The guards walk off, informing the teacher what happened as Delly flips around, her eyebrows furrowed over her blue eyes.

"Peeta, what were you thinking?" She demands.

"I was thinking of Katniss," I say, looking at the flowers. Delly looks down as well, studying the onion tops in my hand. "I gave these to her after the first Games. I just. . . I need something to help me think of her."

She closes my hand over them and nods her head. "Just don't do it again, okay?"

I nod my head as she takes my open hand and leads me back to the group. After all of the drama, I'm suddenly very tired. I beg Delly to take me back to my room, but she's stubborn. She tells me I have to finish the tour, even though I don't feel well. She tells me I have to learn how to adjust to this new life and sleeping won't help. Yet again, she's right.

Once the tour is finished, we are allowed to go back to our rooms for reflection. I scoff at the word. What am I supposed to be reflecting on? My boring day in this bunker? My dead loved ones? What the Capitol is possibly doing to Katniss?

I sit down on my bed, pulling out the buds again. I take a deep breath, smelling them. What are they doing to Katniss anyways? Beating her for answers to the rebellion that she doesn't have? Is she coming up with lies so they will lessen the blows?

Suddenly, I'm sick at the thought. I rush to the bathroom, throwing up my lunch earlier today. If the aftertaste stayed in your mouth then, it surely sticks now. I gargle some water and spit that out as well.

Cautiously, I fill a cup of water and place the buds in it. There. Now they should live longer in the fresh water than in my pocket. Carefully, I set the glass on my bedside table, admiring how much life has now been added to my room. I smile.

A knock grabs my attention and I call out that they can enter. Slowly, the door opens and Prim enters. Just her presence makes my stomach do flips. Not only have I let everyone else down, but I've let down Katniss's family.

Behind Prim comes her mother. "Hi, Peeta." Prim greets as they shut the door behind them.

I stand still, studying them. Soft smiles are on their faces as they look around the room. "Those are some beautiful flowers," Mrs. Everdeen says, pointing to my bedside table. "I wish we could have such pretty things everywhere here."

I fidget, unsure what to really say. "I gave a bunch like this to Katniss after our first Games," I explain, biting on my lower lip. They freeze at her name, clearly holding in their emotions for me. "I'm sorry that I couldn't save her," I say.

"Peeta, you had no control in that." Mrs. Everdeen says.

"But I feel responsible," I argue. "I should be the one in the Capitol. Not Katniss. I'm just. . . I'm sorry."

"Peeta, what's important right now is that you're safe," Prim says, walking towards me. Her arms wrap around me, pulling me into a hug.

At first, I'm not sure what to do. Over the past couple of months, I have spent more time at their house in District Twelve than my own. I learned more about their family and helped out around the house, but I never really interacted with them like this. Not on this personal of a level.

"I'm sorry to hear about your family." Mrs. Everdeen says, slightly bowing her head.

I nod my head, unsure how I'm supposed to respond. That doesn't seem like something you're supposed to thank. Besides, I don't really want people pitying me here, too. "Do you guys have a room around here?" I ask, changing the subject.

"Yes, we're just a few rooms down. We wanted to welcome you into your new home." Mrs. Everdeen softly smiles. Strange to think I was only released from the hospital a few days ago. It feels like I've been here for years.

"It's nice to see friendly faces here. Delly's really the only one I've talked to so far." I say.

"Gale's here, too. I'm sure you can find him in one of your classes." Prim offers. For some reason, I don't want to be anywhere near him right now. Maybe because I feel like I've let him down, too. I was supposed to bring Katniss back safely.

"That's good. I'm glad he's safe." I smile. Which, really, I am glad he's safe. I'm glad that his family is protected here in Thirteen.

"Well, I guess we should leave you alone now. We wanted to make sure you were settled in," says Mrs. Everdeen.

"Thanks." I nod as they open the door. Mrs. Everdeen leaves first and Prim pauses in the doorway. She holds onto the handle as if she's debating about what she wants to say to me.

"If you ever need someone to talk to, I'll always listen," Prim begins. "We're in Compartment C45." She adds before she softly shuts the door.

I lay down on my bed, staring at the buds in the cup. Slowly, small drops of water cut trails down the sides. They remind me of the tears that have been shed the past few days. The tears for loved ones being lost to this rebellion. The tears for those who have died in the Games. The ones for our loved ones who were killed in the bombing of Twelve. The ones shed for Katniss.

I can't even stop the ones currently trailing down my own cheeks. I close my eyes, thinking of everyone who has died because of me. I'm not a symbol of this rebellion. I'm the cause of this rebellion.

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Hello! Hello! I know I'm back sooner than you probably figured, but I'm very excited about this book and I didn't have school today so I got to spend the day writing!! Thanks for supporting this book! See you soon!