Catching Fire - Peeta's POV

Chapter One - Paintings

I wonder if I am in a dream. A dream so real that if someone pinches me I still won't wake up. I wonder if I am asleep somewhere else, somewhere where The Hunger Games never existed. That is what a lot of us would call a dreamland.

Waking up at night is a blessing. The nightmares that haunt me are diminished when awake, so it's what I try to do. I wander the house at night, empty. I refuse to use the electricity, refuse to let the Capitol control any part of me that isn't mandatory. Only the candles light the hallways.

Going back to bed is alright, as long as that is all it is. Lying underneath the covers, absorbing the warmth, watching the sun rise through the window. I barely do that, though, as sleep comes all too easily.

Since the Games, life doesn't seem so necessary. Before being reaped, I was focussed and fearful, which drove me to work hard. Now, with the threat of being chosen again gone, I have nothing to do. Except paint.

The Capitol has shipped several canvases since I arrived. It's thrilling but calming, being able to do something right. Being able to do something the way I want. It reminds me of the cookies I decorated on Sundays at the bakery. The swirls of the pipe bag, the descendants that so few could actually afford. But now, with paint trays, and brushes of different sizes, it is easier to draw exactly what I want.

The study is where I put the paintings, finished or ongoing. Most of them are about the Games, how I saw them. One of the first ones was simply a landscape of the arena. The lake, the golden hornet, the neverending forest, and the cornfields. Then, they started becoming more abstract. One had solely tracker jackers, sort of like a pattern. Another was the drip that leaked through the cave ceiling, the night where it wouldn't stop raining. I focussed on the pattern of the puddle, adding light and shadow, until finally I got what I wanted.

In the corner of the office, is the painting that I work on the most. A very detailed replica of Maryars' face. Her face in the woods, by the campfire. Her expression when she didn't know the Careers and I were creeping up on her, about to slaughter.

Delly is my main visitor. I barely see my parents, only when I am walking on that side of town. Coryl is always lost in the mines, so I haven't seen his face since the reaping. I can't even remember what Bip looked like. And I don't plan on seeing him.

I know Katniss has her mother and Prim to look after her, so that's why I don't visit her. I realised soon after the train ride home that she didn't really love me. But I can't blame her, we were both doing what we had to do to survive. That's why Delly is who I see most, to talk to about things. She was the one who gave me the idea to paint.

One could only describe her as a counselor, I guess. I told her everything about the Games, even though she already saw it on the screens. She listened carefully, and told me a bit about what happened at home. Coryl left for the mines when he turned 18, which was a few days after the reaping. She's seen Bip around, but has never said hello. The most anyone sees of him is when he walks home from the mines, where he stays in his room the rest of the day. Ma and Pa are, of course, angry that I won't share my riches with them. But when I was away, Delly and a lot of other people gave mine and Katniss' families extra food. Delly claims she saw them laugh once they got inside, and started feasting on their food. Not once did they shed a tear.

A few people from school went to the mines, or their mother opened a shop. I barely remember them. But Delly does mention our other friend, Jersta, died from starvation. I make a mental note to visit his family.

We usually make tea, watch the fireplace, or play games from when we were young. Hide and seek was always our favourite, cramming into tiny spaces, the scream of laughter when one of us is found. We played a few rounds, but it reminded me all too much of the Hunger Games, so Delly was quick to stop. Since then, we just talk and eat.