The Boy In Love // THG Peeta's POV

The Token

The moment the mayor completed his speech, a pair of peacekeepers grabbed Katniss and I by the arms in a grip that said: "I'm not hurting you right now, but I could, and I really want to." I expected this, of course; the peacekeepers had cracked down on tributes ever since Alteco Crow sprinted away during the speech and climbed the justice building. I was only 6 when he fled, but I'll never forget the unnatural way his limbs twisted after his headfirst dive from the roof of the building. His family was punished for his suicide, his parents and three sisters executed a day later.

As the peacekeepers ushered us into separate rooms, I strained for a glimpse of Katniss, but she was gone before I got the chance. Too soon I was stuck in an opulent room, well, opulent for 12, with wood paneled walls and elegant couches. I slumped down on an armchair by the fireplace and rested my head in my hands. A plan. I needed a plan.

What skills did I have? Well for starters, I supposed I was moderately charismatic, though I was nothing next to Katniss. She made me fall in love with only her voice and that rare smile. She was also far more beautiful than I, in a class of her own, really. So she would need no help charming the citizens of the Capitol. Katniss would have sponsors out the wazoo.

Ok never mind that. How can I help her in the arena? I was strong enough, I guess, but how was that supposed to compare to Katniss' hunting?

Suddenly, I was enraged. I stood up in a blur, knocking back the armchair, and spun around to face the fireplace. I shot out a furious punch at the wall above the mantel, cracking the dark oak paneling. Why am I so utterly useless?

And then, as quickly as it came, my rage vanished. The pain from my bleeding knuckles hit me, and I sunk to the floor in a heap, feeling a cold numbness in my heart. I was nothing. Worthless. I couldn't even protect the love of my life.

Even as sadness overcame me like poison fog, the tears refused to come. From the moment Katniss' name was drawn, I had been expecting jarring sobs, but now that I was alone there was nothing. Only a cold, detached numbness. I clutched my bleeding fist to my chest, the ripped skin on my knuckles causing a crimson flush to mar the blue of my shirt like a red cloud on a clear sky. My blonde hair was a disheveled disaster, so different from the clean styling I gave it this morning.

I chuckled humorlessly to myself about the metaphor. In a few moments, I lost my love, my life, my family and my home. Shouldn't that take a lifetime? It seemed like years ago that I had been combining my hair impatiently while waiting for my family to get ready. My eyes snapped up from the ground to the door as I heard the click of the doorknob.

"Peeta?" Came the soft voice of my brother.

I returned my gaze to the floor without a response. It was only Luca. He did not matter. Nothing mattered. My eyes remained downcast as he stepped into the room gingerly, followed by James and my father. Last of all was my mother, her arms crossed and lips pursed. I snorted at her expression. Nothing new.

"Oh you little twerp! I'll-" my mother started towards me with a fist, but my father placed a single large hand on her shoulder.

"Dolores, please. Not now," he pleaded.

"Don't start with me, Tom!" She snapped. "He is utterly insolent."

"Not. Now," he replied with a tone that would allow for no further discussion, which was rare to find in him. His hand remained firm on my mother's shoulder. They stared at each other for a moment, a war waged in silence, before my mother unclenched her fist and let her arm fall limply to her side. She sneered at me.

"Why are you sniveling anyway? Maybe District 12 will have a victor this year. She's a fighter, that one," she drawled, watching to see if I would start crying. Instead, I smiled gleefully right in her face. Yes, she is. My mother's face dissolved into a snarl once more, but a glance from my father gave her pause.