The Hunger Games - Peeta Mellark (1)

}4{ - Target Practice

When Livia got back to her room, the train was pausing at a platform to refuel.

For a while she stood staring out the train window, wishing she could open it.

In the distance, she saw the lights of another district.

She thought about the people in their houses, settling in for bed.

Livia imagined her own home, with its shutters drawn tight.

What were they doing now, her brothers?

Were they able to eat supper? The fish stew and the strawberries? Or did it lay untouched on their plates?

Did they watch the recap of the day's events on the battered old TV that sat on the table against the wall?

Imagining her home made her ache with loneliness.

The day had been endless.

Could she have been eating blackberries in the woods only this morning?

It seemed like a lifetime ago.

Like a long dream that deteriorated into a nightmare.

Maybe, if she went to sleep, she would wake up back in District 2, where she belonged.

The drawers probably held any number of nightgowns, but she just stripped off her shirt and pants and climbed into bed in her underwear.

The sheets were made of a soft, silky fabric.

A thick fluffy comforter gave immediate warmth.

If she were to cry, now was the time to do it.

By morning, she would be able to wash the damage done by the tears from her face.

But no tears came.

She was too tired or too numb to cry.

The only thing she felt was a desire to be somewhere else.

So she let the train rock her into oblivion.

Gray light was leaking through the curtains when the rapping roused her.

She could hear Pluto's voice, calling her to rise, "Up, up, up! It's going to be a big, big, big day!"

She tried and imagined, for a moment, what it must be like inside that man's head.

What thoughts filled his waking hours?

What dreams came to him at night?

She had no idea.

She put the green outfit back on since it was not really dirty, just slightly crumpled from spending the night on the floor.

She threw her hair into a messy bun, to avoid dealing with it.

It didn't matter what she looked like anyways.

They couldn't be far from the Capitol and once they reached the city, her stylist would dictate her look for the opening ceremonies that night anyway.