“How was school my princess?” my mother asked as she pulled me into a hug.

“We got to watch a movie from the old word today mum.” She held my hand as we began the walk back to our house.

“I bet that was exciting.” She gave my hand a gentle squeeze.

Of course it was, but in my six year old mind much more important things were spinning round and round.

“Mummy,”

“Yes my darling?”

“All the other children have daddies. Why do I only have a mummy?” I felt her stiffen up and tighten her grip even more on my hand.

“Your daddy… he isn’t with us anymore. He isn’t here.” There was sadness in her voice that even a little girl could understand.

“Where is he mummy?”

“He’s gone.” Her voice was morose; she was missing him so very much.

“Is daddy an angel mummy?”

“He is as close to an angel as you could possibly find.” She stopped and knelt down to face me, her eyes teary. “I promise you that where ever he is right now he is thinking about you and loving you.”

She always did make it seem like my father had died, and for all those years I really did believe it. The more I think about it now I realise that she never actually said the words. I had a bundle of my mother’s early letters in my pack for Haymitch along with a few slabs of meat that I took before I gave them to Peeta. I even had a fresh loaf of bread.

It was three nights ago that he first stayed in my house. He took the spare bedroom; it was an awfully big house, especially when you were alone like Peeta and me. His family were welcome to his house of course, but they chose to stay with the bakery, it was easier. Peeta didn’t have a choice.

I would still wake up screaming, a few times with Peeta by my side, hushing me. Once he left I would lie awake in fear of falling back to sleep. I heard soft banging noises from the other room; it must have been Peeta dealing with the darkness in his mind.

Last night there was less nightmares. Only three. After the last one Peeta went to sleep in the armchair by my bookcase. When I woke up he was gone and there was fresh bread on my kitchen table.

I took a loaf for Haymitch and packed the rest of my bag to take to him. I didn’t see him yesterday. I actually spent the day exploring the outskirts of the district. There was probably much more beyond the fence but I had better start close to home.

The old log and trap-door was beginning to become familiar and I smiled to myself as I headed underground to meet Haymitch.

“There you are! You know that spending a day alone is basically like a week?” I handed him my backpack and he started pulling items out like it was a normal routine. “Someone gets the good stuff.” He held up the red meat.

“Well just be thankful that they keep giving it to me.”

“I see there is bread, but no Peeta?” He raised an eyebrow and I sighed.

He had been asking me about Peeta since the second day I visited him. “I told you, not yet.”

“Well why not?”

“I told you, I want him to trust me first.”

“Tell him you saved me instead of killing me, that’ll do it.”

“I want him to trust me, not trust me for what I did.” I sat down on the couch and pulled my feet up.

“I see…” He walked over slowly to sit on the couch with half of the loaf of bread in his hand. “So why is it that you need him to trust you before you tell him.”

“I need people on my team who trust me before my actions; I need people to have my back because they are on my team, because they believe that what I’m doing is right. I don’t want to have to explain myself even if I do make rational decisions. Can you understand?”

“Yeah, I know what you’re saying. You can’t have any chance of someone going against you if they can’t see exactly where you're going. I do understand but I know Peeta and I’m pretty sure you do too. I’m pretty sure I know what you’re doing here as well. And by the way, watching those repeats of the games after finding out that you’re my daughter; I’ve got to say, I was a little grossed out.” I laughed and he shoved me a little. “Do you mind if I ask what you were planning to do if you got out?”

“What do you mean?” I knew exactly what he meant; I was just avoiding the question.

“I mean, what were you doing with him in there when you knew that it was possible for both of you to get out? Was it all just acting?” We had a long period of silence and eye contact before I answered.

“I do mind that you ask, and I don’t know. I don’t.” My eyes were glassy as I looked over, a curious look on his face.

“You don’t have to be scared…”

“I’m not.”

“Well, you’re either scared or unsure of yourself. I know that look.” So did I, my mother used to pull the same face whenever the games came around.

“That reminds me, there is a bundle of letters in my bag.”

“Letters to me?”

“Yes, I’ll bring them to you day by day. I have hundreds of them. I can bring you the ones she wrote for me when you finish all the others. They have a count on them.”

“A count? What does that mean?”

“Read the lowest numbered ones first, they’re indicative of the number of days you were apart.”

His eyes dropped but his hand reached out to mine and he pulled me into his side. We shared an embrace for quite some time. I let his scent linger in my nostrils and I felt my heartbeat align with his as it pounded in my ears. When I would cry as a child my mother would hold me like this and so many times I would wish that I had a father who would do the same. Back then I thought it was something special that she did for me, now I realise that it was the way that he comforted her. I nuzzled his chest with my cheek and he rested his head on mine, still holding me tightly.

We didn’t need to say anything more; I was so content to just be held in his arms. This was what I dreamt about when I was a child. Everything else would always come second.

I left him with the letters and I heard him ripping into them as soon as my back was turned. When I emerged from the old log the sun was beginning to set and my throat became constricted. I couldn’t be out in the forest after dark. The panic set in as I ran back to the fence and climbed through, it only gave me a little bit of comfort. I wasn’t moderately comfortable until I was passing the lights of the town centre.

I must have been running since the boundary because I had to stop to catch my breath.

“Olivia!” I searched for the voice all around me.

Then I saw Peeta walking towards me holding a wooden crate.

“Hi!” I was a little flustered and he gave a little smile, probably because he thought that my cheeks were flushed from seeing him.

“I uh, I have some things for dinner.” He signalled to the box.

“Okay.”

“I mean, I have things for us for dinner, if you still want me to stay at yours.”

“Maybe we could just stay at your place tonight; I don’t mean to take you away from your house.”

“No, no, I… I’m glad to be out of there. It’s so…”

“Cold?”

“Yeah.” We smiled at one another, as victors we share an understanding that no one else could hope to come close to.

                One thing I’ve noticed since the games is that I spend a lot of time in silence. It’s like there is so much to be said, but most of it doesn’t need words. We walked back to my house and Peeta began taking different breads and sweet buns out of his crate.

                “Did you make all of these?” I asked as I admired his handiwork.

There were little cupcakes with intricate iced patterns, there were buns with soft fluffy icing, they could have been from a pastry store in the Capitol.

“Yeah, my mother was ill today so my father let me use up some extra ingredients. He thinks you’re fiery. He says he actually quite liked you in the games.” I gave him a little smile.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“I should tell you though; he’s a sucker for the underdog.”

He was so sweet, he started out hating me and now he’s being so accommodating. I guess he just didn’t want them to win. He wanted to be himself despite the way they’re trying to shape him. I watched him take a bite out of one of the sweet buns and I took one myself.

“These are amazing. I really hope you don’t have any more of these because otherwise I’ll probably eat them all.” He laughed as I took another big bite.

“You have icing on your cheeks.” He reached out and brushed it away and we laughed, the night seeming like less of a threat to me now.