***WARNINGS and DISCLAIMER***
I do not own the hunger games. If I did than there would be Peeto yaoi goodness every few minutes. Yaoi, Mentions Abuse, Some Katniss bashing, M for language and maybe some sexual content later,possible Mpreg if I make a sequel (so not in this one), and Neko!Peeta because I have only found one so far and we need some more of that stuff...and that's about it! Enjoy!
Chapter 1:
***Peeta's POV***
Violent banging on the door woke me from my sleep. I whimpered pathetically as I tried to cling to the sweet dream I had been having. This was the first night in years that I was actually able to sleep nightmare free. The dream was fuzzy in my mind, but I could remember a few things. Light blonde hair, a cocky smile, tanned skin stretched taunt over mounds of hard muscle, but the thing that struck me most were the eyes. I had stared into those eyes and for the first time in my life, I felt safe and warm. Protected from all of the bad things in my short and horrible life. But sadly, I had to wake up. It was just a dream after all. No one would ever save me. Another loud set of bangs pounding on my door drew my attention back to the present.
"PEETA," my mother's shrill voice screamed from the other side of the splintering piece of wood, "Get your lazy ass up and downstairs now or so help me I will make you regret it! We are leaving with our without you in 30 minutes."
Ah yes, today was the reaping for the Hunger games. A name would be drawn out of a bowl that contained the name of every kid between the ages of 12 and 18. If you were picked, you were entered into a televised event where tributes from every other district fought to the death until only one victor remained. I heard my mother mutter angrily under her breath, no doubt cursing me, and stomp her way back down the hall from where she came. I sat up from my sad attempt at a bed and stretched, bones cracking back into place. A pathetic groan slipped past my lips as I tried to get up and move around my room, if it could even be called that. My mother had given it to me because she said she wanted me to stop contaminating the bakery by sleeping on the floor of the shop.
The room was actually nothing more than an old storage closet that had been emptied out years before when it became unusable for storing anything without damaging it with dripping water or falling of a rotting wood shelf. All of the wood walls were splintered and cracked, letting in the heat in the summer and a cool draft in the winter. The floor board had rotted long ago, making most of the floor nothing more than the dirt under the house. The only thing in the pantry was a small trunk that took up most of the 6x7ft space and a metal dish on top of it, caked in old candle drippings.
I got only one candle every month, and I had to make it last. Light shone partially through the cracks in the leaky roof during the day so the only time I ever really needed it was at night. Most months I would end up just saving the candle to trade for bandages and scraps of food in town as opposed to actually using it. That was the only thing that had kept me alive over the years. I folded the small, thread bare blanket that an old woman had been kind enough to give me when I was younger, and stumbled blindly for my trunk in the darkness of the room. It was morning, but the sun would not be up for another half-hour, leaving me in a full on blackout.
After tucking the cloth away safely, I ventured towards the door and opened it ever so carefully. I had to shield my eyes as the lights in the house burned them as they tried to adjust. When I was able to once again see, I carefully made my way down the hall towards the kitchen where voices and the clatter of dishes could be heard. When I entered the room, all of the small talk seized as everyone turned to glare at me. My mother tossed a set of clean clothes at me, followed by a pair of shoes that managed to clip my poor nose before landing on the rest of the pile in my arms. My two older brothers snorted loudly at my misfortune. They hated me just as much as mother did.
You see, my mother had once been married and had both Rye and Wheaton. They were all one big happy family until her husband suffered a fatal heart attack and left them all to watch after the bakery. A year later when the boys had both been two, my mother was horrified to discover that on one of her many drunken hook ups, she had managed to conceive. Being pregnant out of wedlock was a sin and word spread quickly around our small district. When my mother gave birth, she immediately found the new outlet to vent all her problems on. In her head it was all that babies fault for their problems, it was all my fault. That is why I have been abused, beaten, blamed, and neglected by all three of them since day one of my life.
"Go wash up in the tubs out back, then change into those. You will not embarrass me, understand?" My mother's voice was just as cold as always.
I nodded," Yes ma'am." I tried to keep my mind away from the smell of the food at the table, but to my horror, a loud growl rumbled from my stomach. The evil woman's lips curled into a hateful smile.
"Aren't you such a good little freak. Hurry and maybe there will be something left on this table for you when you return." That horrible woman. She had better leave something. It was her fault that I hadn't eaten in days. Ironic isn't it? starving in a bakery. But I didn't dare touch any of the product. Last time I had tried that when I was six, I ended up having to wear a cast on my arm for six months.
I mumbled a thanks of sorts and ran out of the room as fast as I possibly could. I didn't want to spend a moment more than I had to in their presence. I dunked my head into the ice cold water in the rain bins to clear not only the dirt from my face, but the thoughts funning through his sleep fogged mind. Scrubbing off as much of the filth from the rest of my body, I cringed at the water that poured over my skin. I hate getting wet in any way. The clothing next to me was quickly dawned when I noticed the now rising sun. I had to get inside quickly. I had forgotten to grab a hat to cover the evidence of my shameful past. Mother never let me out of the house without doing so. She was afraid of what people would think when they saw the youngest Mellark waltzing around with a pair of furry cat ears twitching on his head and a fluffy cat tail swaying from behind. Yes, I was a freak, and it was all my mother's fault.
A few years ago, peace keepers flooded the district square and offered up a deal that was too great for many of the struggling families. The offer, a small sack of coins in exchange for a guinea pig for the Capital's experiments. My mother was one of twenty who offered up their children. Six boys and fourteen girls were loaded up onto the hangar craft. Even at that age, I knew what was going on. My mother was hoping that I never came back.
The experiments were pure torture. Every day we were stabbed with sharp instruments and injected with new chemicals and substances. The pain rendered most of us unconscious for the majority of the six months that we were there. In the end only eight of us survived. Those who did were deformed or mutated. I was the only boy still alive. The look on my mother's face when I was brought back home, was all I needed to see to know that it would have probably been better for everyone if I had died on that steel table. The survivors who could hid their deformities from the public eyes. Those who couldn't hid from the eyes of the people in tunnels beneath the city. The experience had been brief, but the evidence mocks us every day, reminding them of thir shame for all of eternity.
When I made my way back into the kitchen, I was greeted with an empty table and a note tapped to the door. I patted my growling stomach apologetically. It would have to wait. Snatching the note, I had to try to hold back a scoff. It read, "Dear Freak, We got tired of waiting and left for the reaping. If you know what's good for you then you will meet us there as quickly as possible. Don't forget to wear a hat. It's chilly! Regretfully, Mother." I could feel the sick smile that must have lit up her face as she wrote this. Trust her to find amusement in my suffering. I wrapped my tail around my waist under my shirt, pulled a hat over my ears, and headed out the door.
****Time skip****
What had I just done? When the event began, the girl tribute had been picked first as always. Katniss Everdeen had been chosen to the horror of her sister and mother. I had only met her once before when she was out begging for food for her family. Feeling pity for the girl, I had snuck a few burned rolls of bread that were supposed to be my dinner out in the rain and tossed them to her. She had the audacity to get mad that I had merely thrown them and has despised me ever since. What she didn't know was how much hell I had caught from my mother when she found out I was giving handouts, even if I was only stealing food from my own mouth.
Next up were the boys. Chase Michael was called from over the mic. The rows parted and a small boy who looked like he was about to pass out was being pulled out from the crowd. This was obviously his first year here and he looked absolutely terrified, his family screaming and clawing after him from behind the guards. I was about to shift my eyes away from the sad scene when the boys eyes met mine. Blue, just like his. My arm was in the air and before I could even think of stopping myself I blurted out the words that would change my life.
"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute."
The crowd stared at me as if I was insane as I made my way through them. Then again, maybe I was. The boy and his mother cried loudly as he was released and leapt into her waiting arms. The woman thanked me feverishly as I passed by in my trek towards the stage. the boy tugged on my sleeve. I turned my head to see what he wanted.
"Are you not scared?" he asked still shaking in his previous terror. I smiled sadly at him and ruffled his hair lightly.
"Of course not kid," I replied," I know that I'm not coming back."
I quickly made my way onto stage. The rest of the ceremony was a blur as we were swept away onto a train and off towards the Capital. I was not looking forward to returning back to my own personal hell. The whole ride consisted of the bum of a mentor drinking himself under the table and Katniss glaring holes in my head whenever we happened to be in the same room. When we finally reached the Capital, I was shocked with what I saw.
The city was nothing like I remembered. Tall colorful buildings lined the streets and their outrageous looks were only matched by that of the people who lived there. How could people think that looking like that was the least bit attractive? Not willing to dwell on it, I shifted my focus to keeping my hat in place and my tail tightly coiled around my waist. Once we hopped off the train, we were quickly shoved into rooms to be hosed down. Two men and a young woman greeted me and introduced themselves as my stylists Envy, Triste, and Glomer. Their outfits and personalities ironically matched ther names.
Envy reaching for my hat drew me from my musings. I slapped the green haired woman's hand away and pulled my hat on my head as tightly as I could.
"Don't touch me!" I cried as I backed myself into the corner. Triste rolled his eyes.
"Hun, we have to get you cleaned for the games. We can do this the hard way, or the easy way."
Sighing pitifully, I knew that they were right. I clutched my hat shakely and dropped my eyes to the floor. "Just don't hate me for what you see." Pulling off the hat, I heard the the shocked gasps of my stylists as my ears revealed themselves from under my messy blonde hair. A loud squeal caused me to snap my eyes back up to see a completely unexpected reaction from my stylist. All three of them were practically bouncing in place.
"Oh my god, those are so adorable!" Envy ran over and tried to touch them, not even attempting to control her joy. "Are they real?" I yelped when she tugged on the sensitive appendage. "We are going to have so much fun with these!" I looked up at her confused.
"You don't think that I'm a freak?" Envy squeezed my shoulder comfortingly and gave me a sad smile.
"Of course not baby. The sponsors will eat it up. You look absolutely adorable. Anyone who says otherwise is either blind or jealous." I offered her a small smile in return as the woman dragged me into a large tub. Here squeals were just as loud when she discovered my tail. I was actually feeling really good for the first time in a while. The woman's attitude was infectuous. That is, until she removed my shirt. Her chipper singing was cut short when she spotted the marks that litered my thin body. I looked away, ashamed at the reaction. She ordered Glomer to get a first aid kit and began to wash out the most prominent of the wounds, three large gashes from a whipping that were angry and inflammed.
"Where did you get these?" My gaze stayed trained on the floor. "Who did this to you?" Envy cried, more forceful this time.
"My mother," I finally mumbled, shame radiating from every pore in my being. I let out a breath that I hadn't even realized I was holding when Envy tugged me into her arms and shushed me lightly. I finally let all of my pent up emotions pour out. The kind woman simply petted my hair and let me sob on her shoulder. After a few minutes, I managed to compose myself. Envy wiped a stray tear from my cheek and patted my head once more.
"It's ok baby, your safe now. Nobody here will hurt you." I smiled at the kind woman as she pulled some sort of deviice from the bag that Glomer had returned with and turned me to face the other way.
"These are a temporary bind for these wounds. Kind of like stitches. We have something to fix them, but there isn't enough time before the parade for it to take effect. Just be careful. They don't hold very well if you move too much." She squeezed the trigger on the gun and a sticky cool substance filled my wounds. A knock on the door warned us that our time was soon to be over. A dark skinned woman walked in with what I could only assume was my outfit. She set it down and reached out a had for me to shake. I held out the hand that wasn't holding up my towel to reciprocate the gesture.
"Hello, My name is Portia. I will be the one to dress you for the games."
"Nice to meet you Portia. I'm Peeta." Portia smiled mischeviously, eyes glowing with amusement.
"Well Peeta, I only got one question for ya. How do you feel about fire?"