I'm Not Your Mockingjay

Four

Chapter Four

I walk towards Delly's room, hoping that maybe she can help with my current nightmares. Unlike usual, it's not Katniss haunting me. I think seeing her healthy and unharmed in the Capitol has helped to calm me somewhat.

Unfortunately, tonight it's my family who's making an appearance.

I knock on Delly's door, hoping she's willing to take me in. Quietly, the door opens and she shows herself with her yellow hair pulled into a messy bun. "Peeta. What are you doing? It's nearly three." She whispers.

"I know. I'm sorry. I just really need someone to talk to right now," I say. "I thought about going to Johanna since I know she doesn't sleep, but this has nothing to do with her. It's a lot more personal."

Delly frowns, taking me in. "Just be quiet. Quincy is sleeping and I don't want to wake him. He sleeps so little as it is." She says, opening the door wider. Quincy is Delly's younger brother who also survived the bombing of Twelve. Like their family, he has blue eyes and yellow hair.

I enter her room, taking a seat on her bed. I look down at my hands, wishing I had grabbed something to distract myself for a while. Delly sits down next to me, grabbing one of my hands. "What's bothering you, Peeta?" She asks.

I let out a small sigh. "It's my family," I answer. "I've started getting these awful nightmares about them. They usually scream in anger at me as I watch them die in some horrible way. Sometimes it's fire or at the hands of the Capitol. Occasionally, it'll be my mother scolding me for dying in some sick way during the Games and not making her proud."

"Both of them sound pretty terrifying," Delly says, biting on her lower lip.

"I wish I knew some way to make them stop." I sigh. "I don't my memories of them to be tainted by these nightmares."

Delly pauses, her eyebrows furrowing in concentration. She glances over at Quincy then back at me. "We could talk about if you want. That's what makes Quincy feel better when he gets homesick."

"I don't know, Delly. I don't really like talking about them." I say, slightly shaking my head. My childhood wasn't exactly glamorous. Sure, I had enough to eat and a roof over my head, but it wasn't very loving. While other families tried to push away the thoughts of the Hunger Games by singing and dancing, my family pushed it away by only focusing on the bakery and school. Entertainment was rare.

"Only the good things, Peeta." She says, knowing what I'm referring to.

I let out a sigh, thinking it though. It couldn't hurt to try, I suppose. "Do you remember when my dad let us make those dough people with the leftover dough?" I ask, glancing over at Delly.

A smile breaks out on her face. "Yes. He even let us decorate them with some gumdrops and he iced clothes on them for us," she says. "I also clearly remember that one time you came to school excited to tell us about your new job in the bakery."

"I was so excited to get to decorate the cakes." I softly chuckle. My father, with his hands scorned from many fires and calloused from years of baking, took both of mine and taught me how to ice. First, he gave me little cakes to decorate and showed me simple swirls. I quickly mastered them and he taught me new expert moves, which came easily to me. I can still remember the pride in his blue eyes when I showed him my finished design on one of the New Year cakes.

"Let's not forget the time you almost beat Ezekiel in the wrestling championship at school," Delly adds, lightly bumping my side.

"It's too bad I spotted Katniss in the crowd. If I wouldn't have been so distracted by her, maybe I could have beat him." I say. Ezekiel is my brother just two years older than me. We could almost be twins with our matching blue eyes and wavy blonde hair. The only difference is his brute strength and ability to woo girls. He was a catch according to most of the girls back in District Twelve.