The Nightmares Hidden in Dreams - A Hunger Games Fan Fiction

Real

The embellished porcelain teacup trembles in my grasp as I lift it to my lips with shaky fingers. I rest it against the saucer with a clatter and watch the transparent brown liquid ripple slightly from the abrupt contact. Annie Cresta sits at one side, distracted by Finn, who is messing around on the floor, and my mother sits at my other side. I glimpse at her quickly and see that she is looking at me with concern. I don't entirely understand what has her looking so preoccupied.

Okay, to be fair, I was suffering from a bad hangover yesterday, but for good reason. I've been under a lot of stress recently, and you can't plan a wedding in a day.

It also might have something to do with the fear that Peeta will realize what he's getting into and change his mind.

It was all Haymitch's fault; I had gone over to his house to ask about some small details regarding his "giving me away," but I ended up sipping from a bottle of liquor. One sip turned into two and pretty soon the whole bottle and half of another one were gone. My recollections of the night are nebulous at best, but I can remember the day I had after with perfect clarity. The migraine that kept me in bed all day, except for the bouts of puking stomach bile. I could barely open my eyes without the pain multiplying. Overall, the experience wasn't any better than the first time I got drunk. So I suppose it's natural that my mom is concerned, especially since my head is still throbbing painfully.

What isn't natural is the smirk that Johanna Mason won't wipe off of her face.

"What's so funny?" I ask, more than a little bit peeved.

"You should see your face right now," Johanna laughs.

"Oh, shut up, Johanna. Like you'd be any different."

"Why, yes, I would be different. I wouldn't be acting this way over a man." She says the word like it's a disease.

"You know what? I can't wait for the day you find someone who loves you and go crazy for them," I tease.

"No, Katniss. I think I'm better off alone. Besides, who else will check on you to make sure you're still sane. Or better yet, that Peeta is."

I don't verbally respond, though I do give her a gesture that my mother quickly smacks away.

"Right back at you, Brainless," her smirk has only gotten wider through the course of the recurring debate, so I roll my eyes and take another sip of my tea, hoping that it will bestow some sense of calm upon me.

It doesn't.

After trying to eat some form of lunch—and failing miserably—I slowly walk upstairs to where I know the gorgeous gown is waiting. I don't deserve it. But then again, I don't deserve Peeta either.

"Do you need help putting it on?" my mom asks quietly. But apparently not quietly enough.

"Three layers along with the twenty buttons in the back, all paired with the fact that she can't even drink without shaking. Yeah, she's going to need help," Johanna says smugly.

I use the classic comeback, "Shut up, Johanna."

It is a good thing that my mom and Annie—I kicked Johanna out, not trusting her not to rip the thing to shreds—do help because, unfortunately, Johanna was right. The buttons would have been hard to undo on a normal day, but my hands can't stay steady enough to even unbutton them enough for me to slip the dress on. I clumsily slip two of the cream buttons out of the holes holding them in place before giving up and standing awkwardly off to the side while my mother takes care of the rest of them.

My mind is muddled with memories and misgivings. Why has Peeta decided to settle for me, of all people? He's compassionate enough to have his pick, and yet he chose me.