Chapter 13 - Never Forget

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[Short chapter, but it seemed important ;) ]

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Throughout the long passing hours, things seem to get more and more complicated.

I had more trouble earlier on, when I didn't know where I was or who I was, then the world's existence came jumbling back to me all at once. Then I wonder, how could I forget something so important? Whatever I was thinking through about before these weird constant memory lapses seems like a much simpler time. Over and over, my head spins with confusion along with pounding pain that doesn't seem to go away at all. It doesn't help that once again I am a caged animal, whose hope fades away more as the hours pass.

Maybe there is something I can hang onto through all this, but what? Thinking back just makes it worse. Memories glimpse by before my eyes, they seem distant and strange, but familiar.

"What are we going to do with BURNT bread? What a waste! Do you want us to go broke? Do you want to live in the worst parts of the Seam because that's where you're headed! Can you do anything right? You worthless piece of-"

"I'm s-sorry Mom! I won't do it again I s-swear!"

"You sure as hell won't!"

A woman with an angry stare swung a small rolling pin high in the air and whacked the little blonde-haired boy with it hard across the face. The boy tried not to cry at the aching pain that sprouted on the left side of his face, surely this will result in an ugly black eye and bruise down his cheek. His mother shoved the two steaming burnt loaves of bread into his hands, then pushed him outside into the heavy rain, screaming,

"Feed it to the pig, you stupid creature! Why not? No one decent will buy burned bread!"

The boy began tearing off chunks of the burned parts and tossed them into the trough, then the bakery bell rung and the mother scurried off to help a customer. Once she was out of sight, the boy glanced behind him just to make sure she was gone, then threw one of the loaves at a soggy creature that lay out in the mud. It was a girl, starving and helpless.

That's why I did it, it was because of her.

Earlier that evening, that same girl was searching into our trash cans, my mother was livid, she screamed at the girl, even threatened to call the peacekeepers, but I didn't see the point, she only wanted food. So what if she stole from our trash? She was just a poor girl from the Seam, but that wasn't the reason I'd purposely dropped the bread into the fire, it was because I have an unbelievable crush on this girl. We lived on two different sides of the District, we never talked, I always talked to the kids from town, usually she only talked to Gale Hawthorne, a tall boy that caught the eye of almost every girl in District 12.

I can feel my insides twist with jealousy, for years I watched her walk through the Seam with Gale, even after I threw the loaves of bread to her, she never spoke to me or even acknowledged my existence. She never said thank you.

More images swim before my eyes, images of trees, my family, the bakery, a handful of berries, a bow and arrow, and the same pair of menacing grey eyes full of anger, watching me. Suddenly her mouth starts to move,

"You had no right! No right to go saying those things about me!" Her voices shouts at me.

A strong feeling of hurt looms over me. A different scene unravels, my own voice drowns out the abrupt silence,

"So I thought if I stopped being so, you know, wounded, we could take a shot at just being friends."

Another voice replies, it's Katniss, I see her eyes squinting at me with crude humor,

"Us? Friends? Ha!" She snorts.

Embarrassment adds on to the recent hurt I feel inside, without another thought, another scene ensues, I can hear my voice once more,

"I want to die as myself. Does that make any sense?" I ask,

Instead of a snicker, a hiss responses to me, she glares at me with hatred, with a certain hunger for death,

"You are hopeless, weak."

More images flash before me, even faster than before, different voices join in, but no image is clear to me anymore,

"It was all for the Games, how you acted,"

"Of course."

"She's a survivor, that one."

"So Peeta, is there a special girl back home?"

"Ha! Why would I need you?"

"Hey Lover Boy, you better be sure."

Finally I can feel my own hands cover my face, my own mouth moving and my real voice pleading over the massive strikes of pain,

"Stop it! Please!"

Even through all the pain and confusion, I cannot describe the strange amount of fear that overflows. Tears spill down my face, my breath is interrupted by a sequence of whimpers and uneven panting, my body shivers as I hug myself tight. I don't remember realizing that I am back in my cell, I must have already known. I'm in the corner, rocking myself back and forth, as if to comfort myself from this horrible nightmare. But was it just a nightmare? Was it real? How stupid of me to forget what is real and what the Capitol is lying to me about.

For some reason, I feel an odd sense of safeness sitting in my cell, sure the peacekeepers can come in a beat me against the walls all they want like usual, but at least I am perfectly safe from her.

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