I'm Not Your Mockingjay

Two

Chapter Two

My name is Peeta Mellark. I am seventeen years old. My home is District Twelve. I was in The Hunger Games. I escaped. The Capitol hates me. Katniss was taken prisoner. She is thought to be dead. Most likely she is dead. It is probably best if she is dead. . .

"Peeta?" Delly asks, her hand resting on my shoulder. Her eyes show concern, an emotion I see on a daily basis. Everywhere I go in this underground prison, their sorrowful eyes follow me. Waiting to see if I'll break down. Waiting to see the hero they crown me as.

"I'm fine." I brush off, my eyes darting to look at my food. The meals here are all calculated out based on height, weight, the number of calories you're supposed to burn in a day, the amount you retained from the earlier day. Everything here is down to a T.

Honestly, it makes me sick how perfect everything is.

"Are you going to come to class with me today? We're going to visit the gardens here." Delly says, pushing her yellow hair behind her ear.

I don't want to go anywhere I want to tell her. But, she's all I have left. The only one I can truly trust anymore.

Haymitch is somewhere deep in this cave, drying off from his alcohol. It's best that I'm not anywhere near him right now. There were a few times back in Twelve when we ran out of liquor and he went through withdrawal. Considering how aggressive he gets off of his lifeline and how our last interaction went, I'm sure distance is the best option.

I've considered talking to Beetee, but as soon as he could sit up on his own, they wheeled him off to help with this rebellion. I mean, they literally took his bed and wheeled down to their top secret army bases. This all happened while I was still trying to process everything that had happened in my welcoming hospital bed.

There's also Johanna, but I hardly see her. I know she's not taking any of the classes like me. I've seen her exploring this dark and damp place and shouting at anyone who tells her that she has to follow her schedule. They've learned to just deal with her as long as she doesn't cause any harm. It's best not to mess with Johanna.

"Sure. I'll try." I say to Delly's offer. She smiles and nods her head.

So, Delly and I return our trays and follow the schedules inked onto our wrists. When we arrive at the classroom, everyone's eyes land on the sight of me. I'm sure I look just like a symbol should. Dark bags under my eyes, tangled curls, and a mentally unstable bracelet on my right wrist. Definitely someone to put their trust in.

But, Delly happily takes my hand in hers and leads me to a desk beside her. The teacher drones on and on about the rules in the garden and I feel a headache begin to pound in my left temple. The lights are brighter than before. So I close my eyes and place my head on my desk and hide myself with my arms.

I like the darkness I've created for myself. It's safe and protective from the eyes that are surely staring at me now. But, the teacher doesn't stop speaking, her voice carrying on and on.

"Peeta," Delly says, softly shaking my shoulders. I peek out, seeing her friendly smile. I return it and stand up. She holds my hand, acting like a guard from the other students' eyes in this class. I'm thankful for her.

As we tour their small patches of beets, I spot a patch of pink-and-white buds off in the corner. I walk away from the group, feeling like I was in a trace. My heart began racing in my chest. I stare at them, trying to remember why they were burned into my memory. "What are these?" I ask, cutting off the teacher, unable to come up with the name of these flowers.