Peeta's Story- The Hunger Games

Chapter 24

Hello lovies! Just letting you know that I won't be able to write any more of this story until I get my book back, so hang tight if I don't upload for a few days. Also, this chapter confused me, and I'm the writer so... eh... we'll see. Let me know if something doesn't make sense and I'll try to explain it.

Because I don't have any other parts to this story written and probably won't write another part for at least a few days, now is the perfect time to give me feedback and let me know what I should change

Lots of love,

Amanda

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I climb into my bed after taking a warm shower. It is my last day here and I savor every moment because tomorrow, the comfort of my room will be gone. I sink into the fluffy bed, the special gel memory foam automatically matching the contours of my body, but instead of soothing me, it only increases my agitation. I feel like I'm sinking into a deep pit that I will never be able to crawl out of. The bed is too hot, too stifling, so I flip to the other side, but soon that becomes too uncomfortable. I flop around in bed, the springs creaking, mirroring my restlessness. I know I should try and get some sleep before I am sent out into the arena, but I am wide awake. I stare at the ceiling for a few minutes before I tiptoe out of my room.

In the hallways, the lights are dimmed so I can hardly make out the door I am looking for. It is partly concealed by a tapestry, but I push it open and slip in quietly. Inside, it is cold and empty, adorned only by a set of concrete stairs. I have only been up here twice- once alone and once with Katniss. My footsteps echo loudly as I climb up the stairs. I push open another door, this one heavier than the last, and step out onto the roof.

The air is cold and bites at my cheeks, but I don't mind. It helps me clear my drowsy brain and I sit down near the edge of the building. There is a slight breeze that nips at my exposed skin and whispers in my ears as I look out upon the Capitol.

I could sit here forever, thinking and dreaming, with the bright lights surrounding me. It's like a picture from my history book of that place from the past called Disneyland, with the flashing lights and smiling citizens. I feel so tall right now, staring down at the ground so many meters below. Even at this late hour, people are still strolling around, laughing and talking. The neon shop lights flash on and off. I see streets lined with cars below me, but they so far away that their insistent honking is just background noise, just another part of the painted picture of the Capitol.

I focus on this scene, with me sitting on the roof overlooking the whole city, and I try to memorize every last bit of it. The smell of cinnamon sticks wafting up from a food stand, the music of the wind chimes in the distrance, these are all pleasant things I want to remember during the Games.

The Games. I have almost forgotten about them until now. Once I'm started, my head won't stop spinning. I take a large breath of fresh air, but it doesn't seem to help me calm down. What will the arena be like? And how will I stay by Katniss? Should I stay by her, or would that endanger her? I probably should stay away because I will be a cumbersome burden; she is so lithe and agile, and all I can do is trudge through the forest like a blind bear. No, it is best to leave her alone, but always stick near her and make sure she isn't in danger every few hours. Maybe it would be better to team up with some of the stronger tributes to make sure they don't get to her.

And then there's the worry of how I'll die. I've watched the Games for 15 years, and I know that they can be brutal. People will stop at nothing to stay alive. I've watched trembling children be slashed into pieces by merciless tributes, so all I can hope for is a quick and easy death.

I am so immersed in my thoughts that I don't register the soft padding of feet across the floor. "Can't sleep?" Katniss asks from behind me.

I am startled and jump a little. I shake my head. "Sort of. I just wanted to see the city lights. Look, they're having a party." I point towards the ground and she peers over the edge of the building curiously. The citizens have formed a long line, dancing through the streets, like some strange, multicolored snake.

She shakes her head at them sadly. "We're off to our deaths tomorrow, and all they can worry about is the next party. I guess I'll never learn what life here is truly like." She sighs and I want to put my arms around her and comfort her. However, I fight the urge off, knowing that it is neither what she needs nor wants.

We sit in an comfortable silence, looking upon the scenery before us before I turn to her. "Why are you up here so late?"

She sighs. "Couldn't stop thinking."

About what? "Worrying about your family? They'll be okay because you'll survive and win the Games."

She looks slightly uncomfortable, looking down at her feet. She is clutching her knees to her chest, curled up in a tight ball. She blushes a bit and looks embarrassed as she says, "No, I wasn't thinking about them. I was worrying about tomorrow. Does that seem selfish?" she beseeches me with a pained look in her eyes. I open my mouth to say something, but her eyes dart to my bandaged hands. She looks down yet again as she mumbles, "Sorry about your hands."

"Don't worry about it," I say, "It's not like they're that useful anyway. I won't survive regardless."

"Well you're just a pot of joy," she grumbles sarcastically.

"Look who's talking!" I tease. "And anyway," I continue in a more serious tone. I want her to know that I'm not just taking this lightly, throwing away who I am for no reason. Because there is a reason I'm not fighting for my life, and that reason is her. "It's true. My best hope is to-" I hesitate. If I tell her that I mean to help her, she'll either get paranoid or won't allow it. I scramble for an excuse.

"What?" Katniss says, interested.

"I-I want to stay true to myself," I say, though it sounds more like a question, like I'm grasping for straws. She looks confused so I clarify. "I want to die like the person I always was. I don't want this to rip all the humanity from me." I feel guilty for lying to her, but push the feeling away as I remind myself that I'm telling her the partial truth.

She looks surprised and brushes a strand of hair away from her face. "You mean you won't kill anyone?" she half whispers after a moment of silence. She is still looking down and I wonder what is running through her mind.

She has a good point. It is against my morals to kill, but then again, this is a life and death situation. "I think," I say, choosing my words carefully, "that I eventually will end up killing someone, but I'd rather just-" I can't think of what to say and I wave my hands in the air to express my feelings. "I just, you know, want to show the Capitol they can't control me."

She nods quietly. "But why, Peeta?" she asks, suddenly fixing me in her intense gaze. "Why does it matter anymore if you kill someone or don't? Don't you want to make it back alive? Because sitting here, plotting an honorable death will do you no good, you know that, right?"

"But it matters to me, Katniss," I say fervently. "I would rather die a noble death than live with the regrets of my past."

"Fine," she spits at me. "Obviously you'd rather die in an arena, stabbed to death, surrounded by unknown people. I, myself, would rather die back home in District 12."

"Go ahead. You were born to win," I say bitterly. "Oh, and tell my mother hello from me." I can't keep the sarcasm from dripping out of my voice.

She glares at me. "Sure thing."

With one swift movement, she sweeps herself off the floor and strides to the door, slamming it behind her. I hear her angry footsteps run down the staircase until they fade away, muted by the carpet.

Slowly, I pick myself up. I haven't realized that I've sat up here for hours. My fingers are stiff and my leg is numb. I hobble downstairs and slowly feel myself come back to life as the coldness fades away.

I crawl into bed, tired, pondering what Katniss has just said. I slip into a deep sleep. Tomorrow, the Hunger Games will begin.