Maybe It Can Be Real

Chapter 32

ALL RIGHTS GO TO SUZANNE COLLINS. I OWN NOTHING.

ENDING OF LAST CHAPTER:

"I'll be right back," I say right before I dash up the stairs with the box clutched tightly in my hands.

I set the box on the dresser then I walk over to the bed in search of the pearl. I think I dropped it on the bed right before we started kissing earlier. I move the blankets around and I eventually find it. I walk back over to my dresser and out the pearl safely inside the box.

I pat the top of the box gently. It holds a lot of sentimental value to me even though I just got it. A content smile is present in my face. I turn around and go back downstairs, a small skip in my step.

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It's a time lapse of like a weekish from where the last chapter ended. Idk if it's clear... Probably not since I suck at writing xD ANYWAY MOVING ON

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I bolt upright in bed, shaking, my hair plastered to my face with sweat and tears. My throat is raw from screaming while sleeping. Well, I wouldn't call it sleeping. More like stuck in my worst memories. Sleeping is supposed to be peaceful, where you wake up refreshed and ready to tackle whatever the day throws at you. Unfortunately, I usually wake up sobbing and afraid of my own shadow for the time being.

Peeta puts his hand on my back, rubbing large circles. I'm still halfway in my nightmare, so I jump what seems to be a foot in the air, my head snapping to the side, ready to get away from my attacker. I close my eyes and breathe out a sigh of relief when I see it's just Peeta.

"Shhh," he coos, "You're okay. It was just a dream."

I drop my head onto his shoulder. "It felt so real, just like it always does," I whisper. I pull my head off his shoulder and look at him. "When w-will they stop? What's wrong with me?", I say as a warm waterfall of tears falls from my eyes.

His face falls. "Don't say that. Nothing's wrong with you," he whispers. It looks like he's holding back tears of his own. He puts his hands on my cheeks, his calloused thumbs softly rubbing away my tears. "Plenty of people have nightmares-," Peeta begins.

"But do they happen every night? Are they as vivid as mine?," I say icily, cutting him off.

Peeta stays calm with me. "I don't know, maybe, maybe not. But that's their problem, not yours. Don't worry about them. Just focus on trying to get rid of yours," he consoles.

I pry his hands off my face and slap mine onto my face instead. "But why me? What did I do to deserve this? I never asked for this," I make a motion with my hands, "I never asked for any of this!"

"For what?", Peeta asks softly. I'm sure he knows, he's probably just asking in hopes it'll help calm me down.

"My whole life! My father and sister dying, going into the Games, the rebellion, my own mother aban-," I stop abruptly.

I start sobbing harder. I didn't realize until now that my mom didn't call or visit or send anything for my birthday. She completely abandoned me - again.

I understand why she didn't want to live in 12, but I thought she would at least remember my birthday. She has for the past years, but as the years went by, the things she did/sent got smaller and smaller, eventually being reduced to a thirty second phone call a couple days late. It's been about two weeks since my birthday, and I've gotten nothing from her. She really forgot. Anger joins in with the fear, creating an emotion that I haven't felt in ages. I only felt it during the rebellion and now.