ghosts that we knew: A mockingjay fanfiction

25

peeta pov

•••••••FLASHBACK•••••••••

Katniss sparkles.

The Cornucopia glints in the sunlight, and I squint to get a good view of her. She looks as stunned as I feel. We remain planted in the same spots we were in, just moments ago. Back when we still thought we could both come out alive.

But the rules have shifted.

Finally, as if breaking from a trance, the bewildered girl before me steps forward, the slightest traces of a smile toying with her lips.

"One of us has to go home. They have to have their Victor," I tell her.

"You're right, Peeta," she replies, eyes bright and alert. The shimmering aura around her is all too dazzling of a sight, and it distracts me from what dauntingly lies ahead. "There can only be one Victor."

What she means to say is, "One of us has to die".

She takes my hand, gently at first, but it all suddenly changes when her fingers have snaked their way around to grip my wrist. Her nails dig impossibly deep into my skin, and I yelp from the shock of it all. I try to wriggle away from her, but I am trapped under her ironclad grasp.

With her other hand, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a handful of lethal black pellets, dripping red from the juice that stains her palm with the color of blood.

"And it's going to be me," Katniss finishes, breaking out into a full grin as the words tumble from her sneering lips.

In one swift motion, the nightlock is now in my hand, which dangles inches from my lips.

"Trust me," she urges with a tone that is almost mocking as we shuffle about the field in a struggle for power. I continue to turn my head each time she shoves the deadly mound of berries toward me, refusing to submit to her just yet.

Her words are all too ironic, for I've blindly trusted her all along.

"Katniss," I struggle to speak, breathe. I keep my gaze tentatively trained on the berries, should she try to pull anything over on me while my lips are parted. "No..."

"Silly, silly Peeta. You're nothing but a lovesick little school boy... so naive, so easy to manipulate. You didn't think you could actually win this, or that you could actually convince me to love you, did you?" The accusation causes her to belly laugh at the mere thought of it.

Realization alone weakens me. She never loved me. She used me in the exact way I told her I would not let the Capitol use me. I am her pawn, a piece in her game.

"I'm the Girl on Fire, remember? And you know what happens when you play with fire, right, Peeta?"

"You get burned," I answer, my features hardening in an attempt to toss her one last look of contempt-although it's meager to read past my hurt. She simply scoffs once more, not an ounce of sympathy left within her to spare for my sake.

While my guard is let down, she pounces on the opportunity. She begins shoving the berries down my throat, the sheer force of her brutality prematurely squashing them and causing the poisonous juice to begin souring on my taste buds without my agreement to bite down into them. She will not allow me to bring about my death on my own terms.

I am slipping away. My vision blurs and the thumping in my heart has been reduced to a soft pulsation.

The future Victor of the Seventy-Fourth Annual Hunger Games, however, never loses her sparkle. She continues to shine as she menacingly does the honor of staring down at me, directly into my listless eyes, as she starts counting down my demise for me.