The Nightmares Hidden in Dreams - A Hunger Games Fan Fiction

Prologue

 When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold.

My fingers reach out, seeking Prim's warmth, but all I find is an empty bed.

My heart beats hard, but I wish it would stop.

I'm cold, coated in sweat from that awful nightmare that can't be true.

I look around the empty room searching for my sister, searching for some sign that that's all it was. An awful dream.

But then I remember the blazing heat of that fire, the explosions that continued to ring in my ears for weeks.

I remember the pain of those burns, the phantom pain I feel even now.

But worse than that pain was the pain of learning that my sister, the one person I've constantly, unconditionally loved, is gone.

It wasn't a nightmare. Just a memory.

My eyes prickle, tears gathering, threatening to spill.

I miss her.

Gosh, I miss her.

Her and her smile. The way she'd hug me. The wise words she'd whisper to me when I was so far gone.

That little duck tail.

And that look in her eyes, of disbelief, before she was blown into ashes.

I close my eyes, the tears falling over my cheeks, onto the pillow beneath my head.

And all I can think of is how badly I wish Peeta were here to hold me, to keep those nightmares away like he used to.

But that's not fair to him, or to me. We're both healing, and I don't know if what I felt for him was true. I don't even know what I feel for him now. And he's lost in that awful world of his mind, not knowing if anything is real or not real.

I settle back into the cold bed, but I can't throw off that longing for warmth, Peeta's warmth.

Every time I close my eyes, I revisit the scene of my sister's death.

I can't sleep. Haven't truly been able to sleep for a long time.

The cat on my bed hisses when I throw the covers off of myself, standing from the mattress.

"Oh, shut up," I tell Buttercup, but it's not with my usual loathing. The cat and I have something in common now, missing the one person we allowed ourselves to care for.

I can't believe I'm comparing myself to a cat.

The door opens with a creak, and I'm outside in the late spring air. A light wind keeps it from being fully comfortable. The hair on my arms rises, and I run my hands over the goosebumps as I begin to walk around the perimeter of Victor's Village. I need to clear my head. Then maybe I can finally sleep.

I'm on my second lap when I notice the soft glow coming inside one of the houses.

I slow, seeing the illuminated windows of Peeta's house.

It turns out I'm not the only one who can't find sleep.

The urge to stride up to his house is irresistible, but still, I hesitate. I doubt I'm welcome there. In fact, I'm probably the reason he can't sleep.

I should turn around, keep walking until I finally collapse from exhaustion.

But my legs move of their own volition, bringing me to Peeta's front door.

I listen for any sign of life, but the house is silent.

Maybe he is asleep. Maybe he just forgot to turn off the lights.