I can still do this

chapter 14

This day sets a precedent for the next several weeks. My days go back a pleasant rhythm, lots of hunting and roaming the woods with Gale as the days warm up. I don't see Haymitch much; he's barricaded himself in his house, leaving only to get more booze. There is one change - my mother recruits me to help deliver all the things I brought back.

This isn't a one-time thing; I brought back so much that she wisely decided to divide up everything so all our friends get a small but steady stream of food. I try to argue with her, making a passionate case for Prim or somebody - anybody - else to make the deliveries, but she refuses. She won't give me an explanation, but she also won't give in. So, after a few days, I do it without complaint.

My nights start to take on an element of ritual, too. About a week after I get home, I wake up screaming yet another time. I've learned by now to give up on sleep after I jerk awake; the images from my dreams are waiting just behind my eyelids to torment me again, and I'm not prepared to face them again. I've also learned that sitting in my bed in the silent house isn't that terrible. I turn my TV on, mute it, and stare at the colorful screen. After a couple nights, I've learned that for some reason, watching something, even old footage of the games, helps me drift into this weird half-awake state, where I think about nothing and everything, and it never hurts.

But this night, things are different. The house isn't silent; something creaks downstairs.

I turn the television completely off and listen intently - yep, something's definitely downstairs. Quietly, I sneak down the steps, pausing after each movement to check that the noise hasn't moved or changed.

I pinpoint it as coming from the kitchen and make my very stealthy way there, stopping completely to assess the situation. I can feel my heartbeat in my temples, feel myself holding my breath, and for a second, it's almost like I'm back in the arena.

Then, I dart into the room, my hands in fists. Before I can think, I've located exactly where the sound is coming from, determined it's a person, and put that person in a headlock, forcing them to their knees on the floor. And then my brain catches up with me, and I realize I'm nearly choking Peeta's brother.

"Sorry," I whisper, letting go of him immediately. "What are you doing here? Nope," I immediately correct myself. I told him he could stop by if he wants, and when he finally does, I almost choke him. "My bad. Are you okay?"

I rummage through drawers until I find matches and candles, then light one and turn back to him so I can see his face. He doesn't look hurt, just surprised and kind of scared. "Yeah, I'm fine," he says. "Actually, I was just leaving." He's backing towards the door.

"No, don't. I said you can come over whenever you needed to, and I meant it. That's why the door's unlocked." I stick the candle to the table with some of the melted wax, and I sit in a chair at the kitchen table. "What's going on?"

"Really, it's okay. I didn't mean to wake you up. Sorry."

"You didn't. I was already awake."

"Really?" he asks, hesitating by the door, looking at me askance. I guess I can understand why, though - I must look something terrible, with my father's oversized jacket over a tank-top and soft leggings.

"Yeah, really. I'm up every night about now. Really," I repeat when he still looks unsure.

"Why's that?" he asks, tentatively taking a seat. The candle flickers a little, casting long shadows on his face, making his ashy blond hair shine like Peeta's did in that damn cave. I can't lie to either of them. I'll never be able to.

"Nightmares," I say shortly, and for a second, a few of the hellish images from my dreams almost come to life in the shadowy corners of the room.

"Is it too nosy to ask what about?" he says. He's ready to play it off as a joke if I take this wrong, I can see it in his eyes and posture. I'm good at seeing these types of things, especially since the games.