Catching Fire: The New Story

the Old Man Makes a Surprise Visit

Katniss's POV

My thoughts push around in my mind from Haymitch being an ass because I woke him up incorrectly to seeing Peeta after so long without giving him a word but giving him my mind, until I am at the front door to my house. I stomp my shoes on the concrete to take the snow and mud off before heading inside. I push it open and kick my new Capitol boots off. My mother has been cleaning the house for weeks and making it perfect just for the cameras, which are coming in an hour or two. I am not excited for this Victory Tour. Just go along with it, finish it, I tell myself. Let's get it over with.

I don't want to be a perfect girl for the Capitol. I don't care, but at the same moment I do. I care so deeply to be perfect, to make the people smile and believe how happy I am to have won the Games and live a better life. Because I am still with Peeta and not a heartbroken little girl, or a dead one.

Whatever I need to do to keep Prim alive, healthy. Safe, I would do. Anything, just for Prim.

I barley start to strip my big fluffy coat off and hang it up on it's rack when my mother shows. Her and Prim walk through the kitchen door frame. My mother was as pale as paper, what's wrong? Prim is calm as could be, she has learned to be strong over the time we've been at the new house. She's taken over my cover personality but much better.

"Katniss," my mother says shaky. Her hand grips onto my arm as I remove my empty game bag. I suck in a breath when I saw two Peacekeepers standing by the door frame of the hallway. Their black uniforms male the whole house seem gloomy, even with most lights on. They aren't regular Peacekeepers, they're from the Capitol. Why in the hell would Capitol Peacekeepers be doing in my house? What do they want? What do they know?

"Yes?" I ask. I try hard to keep the fear from my voice, be as strong as Prim looks, yet I doubt she knows what's going on either. My mothers face seemed even paler than the clean walls beside us.

"You like your walk?" I give her a confused look but nod normally, understanding what she meant by walk. It has always been our code word for going to the woods. It's much safer than saying "Did you like your hunting day?"  "There's someone here to see you."

"Come with me, Miss Everdeen," the male guard says. His voice very deep and very calm. The height difference isn't horrible, but the woman is taller than all of us. He pulls me behind him and we start walking down the hall to the office. It is different to be escorted in your own home, but my mind wonders off to who could possibly here to see me on such an important day. And with guards? What did I do? Who's here to see me?

I remember my mothers face. Pale, as white as the snow laid outside. Why was she so pale? And so frightened? What is awaiting for me down these halls?

As we approach the door, my eyes fall onto where I would be able to see inside the office. The dark brown painting streaks have never chipped from its place on the door, it's perfect. I have never seen it closed is the thing about the door. I have never truly seen it. The office is filled with books, books and books and books. Books lined up on ever wall, around the window and door frames. Many that I haven't had time to read. Really, I have just been to lazy to pick one up and get interested in. I have all the time in the world, and I haven't even read maybe ten books.

My mother does the budgeting in the office, or whatever paperwork comes to us. Prim does her homework. I usually help her, but she's smart enough to know everything she needs to know. I just sit by the open fire place and watch Prim concentrate, curling my feet under my thighs and letting Buttercup sit on my lap and scratch at my pants. The man stands by the door and opens it a crack. He asks the person inside if they were ready. They respond with a yes, the door is open wider for me to enter through. I slip in and look at the mystery man on a black, leather chair; the one I usually sit on when the Everdeen's are busy with whatever we have to do that evening. A book covers his face, letting me see only the top of his white haired head.

"One minute," he says, his bony finger is held in front of the book. The door closes behind me by the Peacekeeper and the man puts the book down. I gasp. I stare at President Snow. His eyes practically bore into my own, his a dull blue.

A smirk flosses onto his lips and he stands up. "Good afternoon, Miss Everdeen," says Snow. My nose wrinkles at the smell of roses. Stronger than any other regular rose, much stronger than Peeta's light rose scent from his soap. I take notice a few on the desk. All red, and one white. But something else comes to mind. The smell of, maybe, iron? I'm not sure.

"Good afternoon," I whisper. He motions to sit down on the chair opposite of his and I do. The chair is covered in a flowery pattern, it's higher up, made for a taller person. Me being extremely short, my toes only brush the floor. I sniff, and the food I ate yesterday almost comes back up. The smell is stronger. Only a few feet away I can now smell roses and blood. Blood? Where did that come from? Is it coming from him? What is he doing? Wearing it as perfume? Drinking it? Eating it? I shiver at the thought of him dipping a cookie into a cup, it coming out covered with red, dripping blood. I gag.

"How is your home?" he asks, starting a casual conversation as if we have talked our whole lives. Yet, I hate him and have never directly taken time to speak a full conversation with him.

"Fine," I say. Keeping my answers as short as possible to cover up my shaky voice. He is obviously one of the people who know I am lying when I say I am fine.

"Your family?"

"Great."

"Peeta?"

No response comes from my mouth. I leave it hanging open wide as I think of a response. I don't even know how Peeta is. I haven't spoken to him at least ten times between now and after the cameras fled home to leave us be. He's probably sad without me. Guilt builds up in my whole body, I never feel guilt. But now I do. I regret not at least bringing conversation up when I pass him around Twelve. Or at least ask him to come over and talk. I hit myself mentally for not realizing that my absence would come back around to me. "He's okay," I whisper. He nods. That answer wasn't good enough. Damn.

"He is merely okay? Do you not know how the love of your life is doing?" His voice holds all the secrets I've held since the games. I can hear it in his voice that he knows Peeta is, well, I don't know. I can't explain it, not my, uh, boyfriend? He is my mine, there. Peeta isn't mine, and I don't think he ever will be. I gulp down all my fright and confusion and sit up straighter.

"I'm not sure," I whisper, shivering as goosebumps run up and down my body. "I haven't seen him in a while."

"Oh, where is he?" asks Snow. His voice is filled with sarcasm. His smile shows his white, straight teeth. I want just to run out and back to the woods. Before I can even think about answering, my mind feels dizzy by the scent of the blood. I can't comprehend for a second. But my mouth brings up something at least smart enough to convince Snow I've been with Peeta before this conversation.

"He's working. In the bakery. That's what he told me earlier." He actually told me just because I bumped into him on the way to the woods. But it was too early, I mean, too early for him to be out and baking? Why was he out before dawn? What was he doing? I don't think he would want to go to the bakery that early, get a punishment from his mother that early. That wouldn't go well.

"That's nice."

*

Author's Note:

Oh gosh, what was I thinking. I don't even want to live anymore rereading my old work sometimes. Ugh.

Keep reading guys!

~Jez xo