In The Blowing Ashes

Chapter 1

Peeta

I walk off the platform of the train station to see Haymitch waiting for me, but that's the only familiar face.

"You look better boy," he comments. "You lucid now?"

"They aren't violent anymore and they are a lot less frequent if I take my meds," I say. Haymitch pulls me into a hug and pats my shoulder.

"It's nice to have you back home boy," he says.

"It's nice to be home," I say pulling away. I look around but still don't see the face I was hoping to. The face that has answers I really need. "Where's Katniss?" Haymitch frowns slightly.

"She wasn't told you were coming home," he says. "Not that I really think she would hear anything anyone says to her."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"I'll tell you on the way home," he says and we start walking home.

"So tell me honestly, how bad is she?" I ask.

"She's barely moved in the two months she's been home. Sae goes to her house to make meals, but we're lucky if we get her to take a few bites of food once a day. Most of the time she just sits by the fire in that old rocking chair, staring at the fire. I didn't think she could get worse than she was after they first took you out of the Quell, but I was wrong. Gale got some fancy job in District Two and hasn't even made an attempt to contact her and her mother moved to Four. She lost that little girl and had no one to fall back on. She's just a shell of a person. I don't even think she hears when anyone talks to her."

"How are her nightmares?" I ask, remembering comforting her from them once or twice, though I don't even really remember why.

"I hear her screaming sometimes at night. I hear it because she sleeps with the window open, though I don't understand that because its barely the beginning of March and it gets near freezing at night," he says. "To put it simply Peeta, that girl needs help. A lot of help. Help she will probably only let you give her."

"But I'm just so confused about how I feel about her," I say. "It's still all so hazy when it comes to her."

"I know boy," he says. "But I thought it was only fair you knew what you'd be walking in to should you try to talk to her."

"If she won't talk to you, what makes you think she'll talk to me?" I ask and he laughs.

"Because no matter how bad she'll try to deny it, she loves you," he says. "Probably more than she'll ever know." He walks into his house, leaving me standing there in the coal dust. I look to Katniss' house to see that it's nearly as rundown as Haymitch's. I walk over and look into her living room window to see a sight I never thought I'd see.

Katniss is literally a living skeleton. She's practically skin and bones and if her clothes weren't so baggy, I know I could easily count her ribs. Her once beautiful dark hair is matted in clumps. Her eyes that once shown so brightly now look dull and cold.

I back away and look down at the ground. I still don't really know how I feel about her, but I know I can't leave her like that. I go home and set down my suitcase. I look around and realize how impersonal it is. Nothing in this house even shows that it's mine. I sigh and sit down by the kitchen table. I open my bag and pull out the sketchbook I was given at the mental hospital. I pull out a pencil and just start drawing, not really paying attention to what is forming on the paper. When I'm done, I realize I've drawn Katniss as she is now. I hold up the picture and study it.

"I don't know how I feel about you anymore," I say out loud. "The memories with you are all still so hazy. But I know I do care about you, and that I can't let you stay this way. I just wish I knew how." I set the sketchbook back down and go outside, deciding to take a walk in the woods. Maybe try to clear my head.

I come to the fence and notice how even with no power to it, it's extremely intimidating. If I remember correctly, Katniss began venturing here alone when she was eleven. Which makes me wonder what kind of coward I am when it frightens me at eighteen. I notice something along the edge. Scraggly bushes with small bunches of colorful flowers. Primroses. Watching them rustling slightly in the doing breeze, I get an idea.

I walk home and open the toolshed behind my house. I pull out a shovel and a wheelbarrow and take them back to the fence. I dig up about five of the bushes and take them to Katniss' house. I look into her window to see she's no longer sitting by the fire. In stead she's asleep on the couch, wrapped in her father's hunting jacket that she clutches tightly to. In sleep, even with the scars on her face, she looks no more than thirteen. I start digging out the dirt under her window and I hear a scream from inside her house. She must have had another nightmare. I think about going in and then remember that she is not yet aware I'm home. I hear running footsteps across the floor and the front door open. The footsteps come closer and look up to see her stop short. Her face shows complete shock at my presence.

"You're back," she says.

"Dr. Aurelius wouldn't let me leave the Capitol until yesterday," I tell her. "By the way, he said to tell you he can't keep pretending he's treating you forever. You have to pick up the phone."

Her eyes rake over me, studying me with her intense silver gaze. Seeing her, i start to remember more clearly. The shiny memories start to become more distorted as the memories of our time together becomes less hazy. I'm starting to understand why I feel I need to help her.

She looks even thinner than I had thought when I saw her earlier now that she's standing in front of me. Her cheeks are bony and her usually olive complexion is pale and sickly. She makes a half hearted attempt to push her hair out of her eyes when she seems to notice how matted it is for the first time. She suddenly looks at me defensively.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

"I went to the woods this morning and dug these up. For her," I say. "I thought we could plant them along the side of the house." She looks to the wheelbarrow and is see anger cross her face before it suddenly drops into a look that I can't really describe. A mixture of sorrow and thought. She nods to me before turning and going back into the house.

And I hear her lock the door behind her.