So, to make up for having been away for so long without even coming on, I sorta did a little story thing in Peeta’s point of view.  Enjoy, I guess c’:  And sorry for the crap ending.  I suck at wrapping things up.


The flashbacks, or episodes as Katniss called them, always came randomly.  It’d first start with a pounding headache and a bad feeling in his gut.  His eyesight would go fuzzy and his head would get light and dizzy.  His heart would start beating faster and he would get really hot.  His hands would start shaking uncontrollably.  But even worse was the wave of emotions that overpowered him.

They never started because of something he did, or else he would have stopped doing it by now.  However, it was always something in his surroundings that triggered it.  He did try to get ride of anything that could trigger an episode, but there wasn’t anything definite.  Anything random could start one up. And he hated it.  He hated it all.  He hated the feelings of hate that filled his heart, the feelings of betrayal, saddness, or of pain that came with them.  He despised how much he would hate his wife, if even for a moment; the hate just surged through his body, the wanting to kill her, the rage.  He knew deep down he loved Katniss, more than anything, yet when an episode came, he despised her more than anything. 

Peeta knew that it wasn’t Katniss’s fault that his family died.  That many innocent people had lost their lives in the bombing of District Twelve.  But he still felt the need to blame her.  If she hadn’t pulled the stupid stunt of wanting to swallow the berries, his family would still be alive.  He didn’t think that it’d be them who would both be dead, or most likely just him.  But he hadn’t been “programmed” that way. 

The Capitol had just wired him to blame her for certain things; the death of his loved ones and only family; the destruction of his home;  having to go back to the arena.  He knew in his heart that she didn’t do anything, but he still blamed her.  He still hated her.  He fought with that side of himself.  He loved the girl on fire, more than anything.  Yes, he was sad his family had died, but it still wasn’t Katniss’s fault.  And it wasn’t her fault that he went back to the arena, he had made his own choice, volunteering to protect her.

His love for her would conquer the feelings of hate that overwhelmed him.  But nothing stopped the visions.  Dead bodies everywhere, of Mags, the Morphling, his family.  The mutts that wanted him dead.  Unimaginable horrors and pains that he felt the only way to get rid of, was to get rid of her.  His hands itched with the urge to strangle her.  So he would grip the back of a chair or the top of a table in order to control himself.  On one occasion, Katniss found him locked in a closet, his head between his legs and hands pulling his hair.   He dug his nails in his palms, trying to stay focused, to not be overpowered by the flashbacks. 

My name is Peeta Mellark.  I don’t hate Katniss.  I love her. I love the girl on fire.  She has done nothing wrong.  She has done nothing wrong.  Nothing wrong. 

He often found himself chanting that, and had many times spoken outloud.  He’d breath in deeply, in and out, evenly and slowly.  All in effort to control himself.  He’d knew he didn’t hate Katniss.  He shouldn’t hate anyone.  But he couldn’t help but hate those people responsible for breaking him.

“Peeta?” her voice broke through his flashbacks.  His nightmares came crashing down, dissappearing completely, leaving only a headache.  Nothing compared to what he had just been feeling.“You okay?"  She sensed something was wrong and that he didn’t want to think about it, so she didn’t press.

"Y-yeah,"  he answered, clearing his throat.  He was greatful for her coming in when she did, saving him like she usually did. 

"Alright,” she answered.  “I just finished skinning the squirrels I caught.  Came by to see if you would like to cook them or if you’d like me to try and maybe burn down the house while I was at it.”

Peeta laughed in response.  “I’ll be there in a sec,” he told her.  “You can go ahead.”

He watched her walk back to the house, her braid somewhat bouncing everytime she took a step.  It was times like this that his love for her just overwhelmed him.  He didn’t know how just minutes ago he had hated her.  But he knew deep down he couldn’t ever hate her.  Because she was always there to save him, to put him back together when he was breaking.