Begin Again

Chapter 1~ Shattered

A/N
(This is an Everthorne fanfiction)
Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games characters, Suzanne Collins does and btw *she is a.m.a.z.i.n.g*
Okay, with that said, begin reading! Hope you enjoy! :) xoxoxo <3
~ Maddy
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Katniss P.O.V

I cover my ears with my trembling hands. However, no matter what I try, I can't chase away the voices and screams and visions that haunt my mind. I'll also never be able to convince myself that these things I'm hearing and seeing aren't real because once in my lifetime, they were. They were as real as my unmerciful terror and the scars that dot my skin everywhere. And still they lay fresh in my crippled mind as if they were real just yesterday. To me, these petrifying memories will never age.

I bring my knees to my chest and drop my head onto them. My fingers then begin to move and my bitten nails dig deeply into my olive skin sliding from my ears down to the bottom of my neck. I feel warm liquid follow their path. The smell and the feel of it is so familiar and I recognize it automatically as blood. My heart begins to race as the memory of those white roses and the man which smelled of this liquid return. I let out a high pitched yelp and crumble to the floor like a pastry. I grip on tightly to my knees which stay glued to my chest as tears descend down my cheek like water cascading down a mountain.

"Katniss?!" My head bolts up to the closet door as the knob begins to rattle, but he finds that I've locked it. Feeling as if this lock isn't enough, my back is against the door again within a second. "Come on Katniss, you can't lock yourself in there forever," he states reasonably.

"Peeta? Is that you?" I ask.

"Yes, honey. It's-"

"No, are you the good Peeta? The real Peeta?" I interrupt in an innocent and hoarse voice. I can hear a sigh which I envision is tied with a frown.

"Yeah. Now come on, come out," he pleads in melancholy.

With a deft movement of my nimble fingers, I reach up and twist the door's lock open and then swiftly slide against the wall. I refuse to come out and he knows this because just then, a broad figure enters the room and flickers on a light. He hastily scans the closet before his bright blue eyes find me sitting in a corner with my chin resting on my knees as I rock back and forth like a mad person. He kneels down to look at me, fresh tears glazed over my grey eyes that have never been darker.

"Why are you in your closet at three in the morning Katniss?" he asks sweetly, though he knows why I'm in here. It isn't the first time he's caught me in this exact kind of stage since the month I was released into my own home.

"The same reason your in my house at three in the morning Peeta," I reply because I've learned that he only comes for one reason.

Nightmares.

We don't even have to say it to cognize. Our eyes sharply connect, saying it all in one concise stare. My eyes stray away from his. Brand new tears slide down my cheeks. My whole body begins to judder as I remember my most recent one. I begin to mumble things that I haven't comprehended myself, but flow out of my mouth without hesitation. It's something about my nightmare, about all the people who've died because of me.

Peeta scoops me up in his arms that feel weaker now than they were when I first encountered him. All the pain and torture of the past have taken a toll on not only our minds, but our appearances as well. We look beaten and weary and broken- exactly how we feel. My body trembles harder and harder the more Peeta progresses to my room. I can see the concern he has for me in his deep blue eyes. The fallen expression and hopelessness on his face lets me know that he realizes what the Capitol has made us. Two broken pieces in their games. Because that's all we've ever been, and that's all we'll ever be.

"Katniss, darling. Shhh, shhh!" he hushes me as I'm released onto my bed.

My feet dangle over the sides of the bed and Peeta stands before me. He leans down to grab my arms in his bold hands and then sweetly orders me to look at him. He finally ends up gently mashing our foreheads and noses together when I refuse. He then begins to say a long line of words to me, repeating them over and over in the same loving tone each time. I recognize it. I would never be able to forget. I remember those times on the train when he'd say the exact same things. But I hadn't heard it since he was hijacked by the Capitol. All I can assume is that therapy has helped Peeta a great deal by getting him to recall memories like this from his past. I close my eyes and let out a deep breath as the mumbling comes to silence and the shaking resolves.

"Told you this is me." Peeta whispers. "It's really me." And to confirm his statement he adds, "Always."

I can't help but let a smile extend across my worn and scarred face. Even the smile, though, is one that's still broken and torn and more faux than real. It reflects pain and suffering from my past and I know Peeta can see it. This whole entire past month he has been there for my nightmares. He'll usually sit on the side of the bed while I lay and stroke my hair till I fall asleep. When I wake up, he'll be gone. But today is the start of something new.

Maybe it's because he's seen the progression of my sullenness. Or maybe it's because of the noticeable progression of his. Possibly even both. But for the first time since, well . . . sometime before the Quarter Quell, he climbs into bed with me. He crumbles the top of the silk blanket in his fingers and pulls it to our chins. My body stiffens, remembering how he choked me and revitalizing the memory of the bruises I had that now occasionally haunt my nightmares.

The touch of two warm fingers of Peeta's against my neck is all it takes. I scream, bolting up into a sitting position until I realize that the touch was only affectionate, but I've had an episode. I was living in the time where he choked me and the caress of those two fingers against my neck played a prank on mind. My breathing is rapid now, dragging me from my brief moment of sanity.

"Katniss? Are you alright?" I hear Peeta ask sweetly.

My head turns sharply to look at him. I can feel the crazed look in my eyes and he already has the answer to his question. And I wish it was a good one. I wish I could easily tell everyone and especially Peeta that things were alright or that they were going to be alright. But I can't. I only could if I were a liar. Someone stole the hope in me and the hope in all who played a part in the rebellion. The Capitol. And Peeta knows this, we all do. So, fisting my hands in the bottom of my shirt to keep myself from using them harmfully to myself or the items in the room, I begin to shake my head in slow motion.

"No, I'm not Peeta. And neither are you or Annie or Haymitch or Johanna. Nothing is ever going to be alright . . . not like it ever was anyway."

"Katniss dear, lay back down, it's okay. You just need some sleep."

I think for a moment and hesitantly let my head gently fall back onto my plush pillow. Peeta cautiously wraps his arms around me, scared to repeat what just happened. Then, he so softly whispers in my ear.

"Trust me."

After that, I feel two of his fingers touch my neck again right where a scar is and possibly even where a very faint bruise lyes. He then slides them across it and down to my arm, sitting himself up on one elbow. Then, he does it. My head is turned the other way while I focus on suppressing a moan because this feels . . . amazing. And then he kisses a spot right where there's a big scar and I can't help it. I let out a long, loud moan and slowly turn my head to face him. He waits till my grey eyes and his blue ones are connected, we're visible by only the faint light of the moon peaking in through the window.

"Your scars are beautiful, Katniss. They remind me of how strong you are. They remind of how your a fighter and how you fought for me. I love them . . ." he pauses, thinking about what he's going to say before he inhales a deep breath and lets it out, "and I love you."

But I can't say the same to him because I think I love someone else . . .