Peeta gives a slight shake of his head and I soon lead him out of the woods. He and I walk awkwardly apart and I can tell that he is upset that I didn't wake him in the night. We crawl under the fence and walk the dirt road back to the Victor's Village. When we have reached the fountain that is in the middle, he leaves me alone and slams the door to his house. I kick the dirt that rests under my feet until I am tired and want to rest. I turn the brass knob that opens my house and hang my game bag and hunting jacket back on the hangers that I dare use. I find myself collapsing on the couch and falling into a deep sleep.
I wake up cold and still exhausted, and stroke the velvet couch. This couch is the only furniture in my empty home that gives me comfort. I'm tracing the couch for hours until I decide to make some tea. I allow myself to slip into my thoughts, always full of emptiness. I am thinking about Peeta, as I usually am. I mix herbs together creating some form of tea. I sip it and let its flavor flood my mouth. This was the only savory thing I had tasted in months.
My hair has become dirty since the last time I washed it. I decide on a quick bath. I slowly pull myself up the stairs and into the bathroom. I turn the silver knob and water fills the tub. I step in and scrub my body. My hair, and every inch of my skin. I finish and pull on a green shirt and black pants. I remove my hair from the braid that I braided days ago and just leave my hair alone. I'm am just fumbling through my drawers when I find it.
The Pearl. The only thing that gave me hope when I had nothing left. It was the only thing I had left of Peeta when he was far out of my grasp. He was always so distant, since they ruined him, turned him into something he's not. He never confesses his feelings anymore, which I wish he did. I stumble down the stairs and make my way to the couch, but this time covering myself with a blanket.
I roll the Pearl in between my finger and remember Peeta's lips pressed against mine on the beach. I step out into daylight and find myself knocking on Peeta's door. There is no response for the next three knocks. I almost leave until I hear a desperate cry coming from the inside. I burst the door open and find Peeta with a knife on the floor. I look up and see his shoulder bleeding, the cut reaching from his skin all the way to the bone. The cut looks terrifying, but if I don't help him, he will die.
