Peeta's Story- The Hunger Games

Chapter 3

I can't help but let the tears fall as District 12 fades into the distance. Stepping into a compartment, I instantly feel suffocated by the dim lights and low ceiling. I have never felt claustrophobic before; I am a people person, but somehow, squashed in the corridor, I feel like the breath is being squeezed out of me,

I am ushered into a room in the middle of the corridor, which is more lavishly decorated than the room in the Justice Building.

It is spacious and roomy and a lot less constricting than the narrow hallway. I even almost feel relaxed in it until I remember that it is my prison. I cautiously walk around, examining the room. It is painted a deep blood red and reeks slightly of wine. On the nightstand, there is a vase of roses, their petals wavering in the breeze coming through the open window. Shivering, I walk over to the window and close it, drawing the gold and red tapestries over it. Just watching the landscape whizzing by makes me want to throw up.

I open a few drawers and find fancy clothes, bright vivid colors, and decorated with lace and embroidery. I see a yellow shirt with sleigh bells sewn into it and can't help but laugh at the Capitol's eccentric sense of style. Opening another drawer, I find clothes more to my taste, their colors muted and less conspicuous. I pick a black shirt and some comfortable jeans and head to the bathroom to take a shower.

As I open the door I stop in surprise. The bathroom is decorated, covered in marble and granite. The sink has two gold taps and I laugh in glee. I turn the one with the red ruby embedded in it. Hot water rushes out, just as I thought it would. In District 12, the only hot water we'd ever had was in the shower, and even then, it was limited to less than an hour a day.

After a refreshing shower, I slip on my clothes and pace around my room. I have nothing to do, so I pull out the gold locket my mom gave me and open it. A piece of tearstained paper falls out, and I recognize the writing of my mother. Cautiously, I open it. Somehow, I don't want to know what this piece of paper says.

"Peeta- I do not know how to begin this because words just can't express my sorrow or grief. I am not a woman of many words or emotions, and I know it will be hard for me to tell you this as I say my last goodbyes. But I want you to know that even if I stand emotionless while I say my last goodbyes, I am secretly dying inside.

My heart broke when your name was called, and I hated the Capitol for ripping you away for me. You brought joy into my life, and you were always there to give me optimistic thoughts. After you were drawn, your father had to rush me home, for I had collapsed on him. Both of us were weeping with grief, as I wrote this letter to you- my last goodbye.

I hope you keep this locket and read this letter before going into the Games. I hope this gives you hope and helps you survive the trials you are about to endure. Battle through it, for if you are the Peeta I know and love, your sunny personality will help get you out of this alive.

I love you.

-Mom"

I stare at this letter, shock registering through me in waves. It is so unlike her to do anything caring and compassionate. Her words spread grief through me like flames, and I instantly regret holding a grudge against her. I feel tired all of a sudden, and fall onto my bed, sitting back up when I hear a crinkling sound. I peel back the covers to find another note in my bed. It is addressed to me, and the writing is in an unfamiliar, heavy hand.

How many other surprises will this day bring?

I unfold the note and see that it is short.

"Take care of Katniss for me." is all it says, and instinctively, I know who wrote it- Gale.

I cannot explain the waves of hate that roll over me. Perhaps it is jealousy, or maybe the events of today have left me mentally unstable. The thought of Gale having been in this room disgusts me, and now everywhere I look, the furniture seems to be tainted. I do not know how he snuck in, perhaps through the window, but all I know is that I cannot stand staying in this room any longer. I crumple the paper and throw it at the door in rage.

It almost hits Effie, who has just opened the door.

"Have you ever heard of knocking?" I scream at her.

She retreats and says "Dinner's ready" in a meek voice.

I instantly feel bad for yelling at her and quietly follow her into a large room with a wooden table in the middle. Set upon the table are porcelain plates with gold on the edges, and my face inexplicably breaks into a smile. Am I bipolar? All I know is that I'm on the verge of insanity.

Effie leaves the room, to go fetch Katniss, I suppose. I look up, surprised at what I see. The ceiling is painted in vivid colors to imitate the sky. The blues all blend together, and for a second, I feel free, like a bird about to fly (as cliché as that sounds...)

The artwork decorating the tops of the walls is also stunning. They are all separate paintings, little squares pieced together to form one large border. I see a painting of a lady holding a child with a halo, of a little girl playing with some flowers, of a mysterious lady, all reminders of a civilization long gone. The pictures all seem to be living, breathing, and I wonder in amazement at how they got their realistic feel. If I ever make it out of this mess, I might just try painting as a hobby.

My musings are interrupted by a loud crash, as a male voice shouts out in pain. Without thinking, I run out of the room.

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Thanks to Izzy for editing!