Fighting on the Outside

The past years have changed us. Made us stronger in one way, yet much weaker in another. It's kind of funny because when you think about it, the best thing that ever happened to me came from the worst. Peeta Mellark. The name sends shivers up my back when I say it in full form, because I'm sent back to the Reaping, the monumental day that secured our futures. And, of course, the nightmares.

Every night I wake up, feeling terrified, sweating, screaming, crying. All from the nightmares, and he knows, because he wakes up every time. And while I sit there, screaming like I'm dying, he holds me, and I can't be more grateful. He tries to fight his, I know, because he seems frustrated whenever I wake up to him thrashing or screaming, but I want him to let it out. I want it to be my turn to comfort him, to provide some kind of solace because he's there for me every single time.

Now, as he's sitting on the couch with his arm around me, staring at the TV but not really watching it, I think of the word 'our'. Truly, it means more than it lets on. Yes, it does certainly mean to be owned by two or more people. But it also means to be connected, linked to one person, their entwined soul to be 'ours' forever. And I can't help but take for granted that I have that.

Overwhelmed with the sudden feeling of hunger, the food kind, I raise my chin, and stare right at Peeta. He tilts his face down to look me in the eye, and his smile is barely contained. It was our unwritten game. Whoever smiled first just... lost. No consequences, but it made us some sort of a normal couple and I knew we needed that.

And then my next words throw us for a loop as I didn't realize that Peeta could be set off at random, bizarre times. Usually, he could ride it out, grip anything around him as the memories arrive. Ones of me being a mutt. Ones of me almost dying at his hands, and especially ones about the arena. Both arenas. But of course, he stays strong and I guessed I was too naive to notice that sometimes he can't be. The venom has very twisted- but effective- ways of working your mind. I've experienced it myself.

"Peeta," I say in a sing-song voice, almost cracking a smile, and he gives in, grinning at me. "Yes, Katniss?" he replies, raising an eyebrow in what could be a teasing manner. I laugh, and lightly slap his arm before falling back into the couch with fake drama. "I'm hungry," I complained, "Can you get me some of the bread from yesterday?"

The smile vanishes. Gone, just like that. And his arm leaves my shoulder, as well, but I'm not left without his touch as his pins my throat to the couch, and in my utter surprise I let out a shriek. I was so confused. This was such an odd thing to get mad about. Was he talking about that time, when we were kids? Or the cave? Was he joking, or was this a repeat of District 13, only now with no injections to save me?

It turns out I'm in no luck today, as Peeta seems to go with número dos. As he holds my throat, his face gets close to mine, a look of utter rage on his face, complete with an awful sneer that scares me because I know it isn't Peeta that's doing this. And he can't control himself.

"That's all you've ever wanted from me, isn't it? Food? I should have known. What have you ever done for me? You mutt!" he spits the last word like it's poison, and I start to feel the pressure on my throat, and even though I fight, he's stronger than me, and I know I have about 10 seconds. Arguing, I know, holds no effect, because it would just offend and anger him more than he is, bringing my death closer.

"I'm going to enjoy watching you die, mutt!" he growls at me and just as flecks of black start to appear in my vision and my breath is completely cut off, I hear the door open, and I could have never been that happy to see Haymitch. He calls out our names a couple of times, and when no answer comes from me or Peeta, he wanders through our house to the living room, and when he sees us, his eyes widen. And then he springs.

He barrels over Peeta, knocking his grip on my throat off as they both tumble to the floor. I inhale a huge gasp of breath, one by one as I distantly hear their tussle. I hear cries and cusses, but all I can concentrate on is the spots. They're getting bigger, and I can't see but I need to, to see if they're alright but I can't, because that's when I fade into the dark.