Chapter Text
Authors note: Trigger warning for forced prostitution and rape, proceed with caution.
Its a bitter cold November day, I stumble along a path Gale and I have worn into the golden, knee high grass that leads toward the woods and I can't help but wrap my spindly arms around my middle in a vain attempt to keep my warmth in. My fathers hunting jacket does little to keep the biting wind from creeping into my bones and making them cold and brittle, I feel like I will shatter at the slightest touch.
Its been a lean few weeks, with the rare warm winter we had last year accompanied by a hot, dry summer has left our woods barren as animals search out food and water elsewhere. I pause once I enter the safety of the old pines to catch my breath, taking in deep lungfuls of clean, sweet fall air. The fresh breeze catches in my lungs, forcing out a hacking cough that has been plaguing me for weeks. I double over as I sputter and struggle for air. I hear an annoyed groan as Gale steps out into eyesight from behind a tree.
“You okay Catnip?” he asks in a concerned voice. I'm still fighting to get a deep breath, but I wave him off. Once I catch my breath I remove a flask from my hip and take a small sip of the whiskey, honey and lemon concoction my mother had made me last night.
“I'll be fine, just a lingering cold.” I assure him with a lopsided smile.
“Better be, you're scaring off all the game.” he quips, but I can tell he has the weight of worry in his gray eyes.
“Like there's any left to scare away.” I comment, leaning to examine the mud at my feet for tracks. After a moment of prodding I stand, straightening my quiver onto my shoulder. I let out a deep sigh before meeting his eyes.
“Should we try the western edge of the woods today?” he asks examining the horizon with hooded eyes. I want to tell him that while he was deep in the mines yesterday, I was scouring the western woods with no luck. The day before I brought home one scraggly pheasant from the eastern edge.
“I guess it couldn't hurt to try.” I get out lamely, rubbing my hands together in a vain attempt to keep them warm. Gale steps forward and rubs his hands down the length of my arms, I immediately stiffen at his touch, if he notices he says nothing. He drops his arms back down and tightens his hold on his bow. After a moment of warring with himself he starts to speak
“We're wasting daylight.” I cut him off quickly, taking a few shaky steps ahead of him and moving through the bracken and mud, my socks already soaked through with cold. He lets out a huff but follows behind me, his boots scarcely making a sound on the long dead pine needles beneath our feet.
After three hours we retreat back towards the meadow, my empty game bag weighing heavy against my hip. I shove a fistful of pine in my mouth to chew and wonder in an offhand way if I will make it to see my twentieth birthday.
Just as we enter the meadow I catch a blur of blue-gray fur, in an instant my arrow is stuck in the eye of a scraggly squirrel.
“Hot damn Catnip, that was quite the shot.” Gale says clapping his hand against my back, but deep in my gut all I feel is cold dread. This squirrel is thin and its coat is lackluster and bald in patches, despite the biting wind.
“Its going to be a long winter.” I whisper, lifting the animal by the tail for him to examine. His lips purse together in a tight line, he runs his hand through his shaggy, dark hair that falls straight back into his eyes.
“I imagine it will.” he whispers back in a deadpan voice.
We make our way through town, Gale slipping past me toward the hob, I don't follow him, it isn't like I have anything to trade anyway. People seem to move out of my way on their own accord. I stand with a ramrod posture my head held high as I move down the wooden walkway that lines the storefronts. Cringe like a dog, my father would say to me People will treat you like one. It was so long ago I can barely remember his voice, it was long before he was blown to bits in the mines.
I make my way down the alley that shoots between the bakery and Shoe shop, coming out near the apple tree in the bakers back yard. The air is heavy with the smell of rain and I have to bite back bile as I remember a day not so unlike this one when I was rooting through garbage bins. I try not to remember the feeling of hot, charred bread against the flesh of my stomach.
The backdoor is wide open and through the screen door I can see the Baker's wife isn't around, just the boys and their father, kneading dough, their laughter echoing through the empty street.
The smell of baking bread is almost enough to gag me and my stomach gnaws unhappily as I step onto the porch. “Good afternoon Katniss.” a voice startles me and I jump nearly out of my skin. Its the youngest, his eyes regarding me steadily, his hands have a book stuck between them as he rocks back and forth on an old porch swing that looks like it wouldn't hold my weight let alone his. I focus on the peeling, white paint on the floorboards, anything but those cornflower blue eyes.
“How do you know my name?” I ask between short breaths. Cursing myself for such a rude greeting. Really Katniss? I think to myself How hard is a simple hello?
If he thinks its rude he doesn't show it, he gives a short chuckle. Shutting the book and setting it aside on his knee. “I've overheard it in passing, I suppose.” He runs a hand through his ash blonde curls. “I'm Peeta.” he offers, holding out a hand to shake.
“I know.” I say, startling myself with such a declaration. It seems to please him, because he smiles and my breath seems to catch in my chest. I think it might be because his teeth are so white and straight or because his cheeks have this rosy glow but before I can get out another breath I am doubled over coughing into my elbow.
“Are you alright?” he asks, his voice laced with concern and I wave him off, just like I did Gale early this morning. He moves the book and stands with his arms out in front of him awkwardly. I finally catch my breath and see that Mr Mellark has come to stand in the doorway, his face echoing the same concerned look that his son wears now.
“That's quite a cough, Miss Everdeen.” His eyebrows are furrowed together and he rubs a hand over his nearly bald head.
“Its been going around.” I shrug and pull the squirrel from my bag, feeling embarrassed at its appearance.
“It isn't enough for a whole loaf, but I thought maybe a few rolls?” I try to hide the desperation in my voice. Its been days since we've eaten proper and Prim needs something more than katniss tubers and pine to chew.
He is looking past the squirrel at me with a hard expression on his face. I begin to tuck the squirrel back into my bag, cursing myself for offending him with this sad sack of fur. “You eating enough, girl?” I can feel Peeta's eyes on me as well as his fathers. I feel like an exposed nerve, open and raw.
“I eat fine.” I snap and turn to leave.
“Now hold on, you going to take my squirrel with you?” The baker asks with a small smile. “Peeta, why don't you bring her inside, I believe Bannock made some tea-”
“No.” I almost shout, taking a step back down the porch steps. “I can wait here.” I say in a more polite tone.
“Well, Peeta why don't you keep her company out here then?” I swear the Baker winks at his son as he moves back towards the kitchen.
After Mr Mellark is out of earshot Peeta turns toward me, his cheeks rosy from the cold. “Sorry about my dad.” he says in a small voice. I take a step away from the bakery and the smell of fresh bread that is choking me . I think he thinks its him, because he stays quiet, his hands shoved into his pocket.
I eye the book he discarded on the swing, admiring the gold lettering in the leather binding, I wonder how much it would fetch for in the Hob?
“Do you like that author?” Peeta asks, picking up the book and holding it out to me.
I shake my head “Can't say I do.” He smiles at me and I can't help admiring the dimple that forms near his chin.
“Would you like to borrow it?”
I shake my head again, tugging on my braid nervously. “No, I uh, I-” I swallow the lump forming in my throat. “I can't really read, I mean I can read, but I'm not so good at it.” I finally manage to spit out. I wonder what he must think of me, Seam dirt, not only poor but uneducated too, destined to die in the mud of an alleyway.
I had left school when my father died, needing food for Prim more than anything that school could teach me. While I could read, it often made my head ache, the words mixing up in my brain in a weird way. Often by the time I had finished a paragraph I didn't understand what it was about anymore.
If it suprises Peeta he doesn't say anything, just tucks the book back next to his side and smiles. “Well, maybe sometime, I can help you with that, I hear I am a good teacher.” I don't like the tightness that is forming in my chest.
“Maybe.” I say lamely, as the Baker returns holding a small bag. I thank him and move to leave.
“Have a nice evening, Katniss.” Peeta smiles, giving a small wave as I pass by him.
“Uh, you too, I guess.” I am walking across the yard as I peek into the bag. Twelve cheese buns, still warm, and two cookies freshly frosted in a bright pink. I turn on my heel, immediately feeling hot anger coursing through me.
“Its too much!” I shout from the yard as the baker returns to the doorway. “for one measly, scraggly squirrel!” I shout, I take out all but 6 of the rolls and the cookies, holding them out to him. He just looks at me for a long time.
“Please take them, for the little one.” Its quite possibly the only thing he could have said to make me step back, the anger going out of me in a rush. I don't think that Prim has ever had a whole cookie to herself.
I look down, my pride warring with the idea of being able to give Prim a proper dinner. “I'll get you more.” I sneer, turning on my heel and stalking back down the alleyway, feeling the heat of their stares as I turn the corner.
“I swear, that baker is going to go out of business if he insisted on giving out perfectly good food for trade.” I snap as I slam my bag down next to him and perch myself on an old barrel that Gale is leaning against. I hand him a roll and he hands me a flask of tea.
“I doubt it Catnip,” He says shoving half the roll in his mouth. “He's the only baker in town, besides it isn't your problem if he doesn't know how to trade.”
“It is my problem Gale, I'm not a cheat!” I shout and he lets out a long, world weary sigh.
“He's Probably just thinking of Prim, everyone loves that little sister of yours.” He offers lamely, shoving the rest of the roll in his mouth, wiping away the crumbs with the back of his hand. I snort as he smiles, wrapping his arm around me playfully. I feel the weight of it like chains around my neck. I unwind myself from him carefully “Catnip, I need to talk to you.” he says and my heart sinks at his tone. “I've been thinking that you should rethink your answer to my proposal.”
“No.” I snap immediately and he looks incredulous for a moment.
“That's it, I don't warrant even a moment of thought.” he's pulling his hair in frustration.
“I'm sorry, I can't accept.” I bite out, grinding my teeth together.
“Can't or won't?” he asks in a weary voice, pressing his eyes shut like he's warding off a headache.
“Both. Let's go get the kids.” I force out between gritted teeth.
“Fine.” he snaps back, stalking ahead of me. His tall frame turning dark against the backdrop of a setting sun. he slams his fist into the side of a warehouse as we pass it.
Rory and Prim are standing near the edge of the schoolyard, beneath a tree. She has her nose in a school book and Rory has his eyes glued to her. I see her eyes slide over to him slyly and her cheeks blush when she catches him. It makes me smile, though Gale is angry at me.
“Come on!” he snarls at a confused looking Rory. When Rory doesn't jump straight up Gale grabs him by the collar of his coat and heaves him up. “Say goodbye to Prim, Rory.” Rory wretches out of his grasp.
“Goodnight Prim.” Rory says with a smile and Prim smiles back. I wait at a respectful distance while Gale stalks off muttering to himself angrily.
“What was that all about?” Prim asks as she gathers up her books in her arms and falls into step with me.
“Oh you know Gale, full of piss and vinegar.” She eyes me quizzically for a moment.
“What happened?” she presses, poking me in the ribs.
“He wants to marry me, Prim.” her whole face lights up and she lets out a squeal, grasping me in her spindly arms. “Hold your horses, Prim, I didn't say yes.”
“Why not?” she asks “I mean he's handsome, more well off than most miners in twelve, and he's crazy about you.” She has a point, my mother has been prodding me about what I want to do, That she won't be around forever and I will need more security and structure in my life, more than hunting can provide. I let out a sigh and tug on my braid.
“Its complicated Prim!” I shout “For one, I've never thought about Gale that way. And for two, I don't want to get married! Ever!”
“But would it be so bad to be married to him? If you had to get married?” she runs ahead of me to catch up to Rory and I have to wonder, would it? I should just say yes to him, it would make life a lot easier for me and for him. Still I have this nagging worry in my chest that is eating away at me. I feel like he isn't what I am heading for, and I can't shake it.
By the time I reach home Prim is already there, digging through cupboards trying to find food that isn't there. I throw my game bag to the floor by the door with a huff and stomp toward the small bedroom that Prim and I share.
“Come on, Katniss!” I hear her huff as I try to slam the door that I had made out of the top of a desk.
I say nothing while tears pour silently down my face. They don't know, they don't know how bad the winter is going to be. I cough into my hand and when I bring it back my palm is spattered with red. I let out a sigh and wipe my hand on my pants, I do my best to straighten my face and step back out into the candle light of the kitchen.
“What do you have in your bag of tricks big sister?” Prim asks pulling spices out of the cupboard.
“5 rolls and two cookies.” I say sheepishly and she nods.
“Not much out there?” she asks and I stare at her a long time before forcing a smile that must look more like a grimace on my face.
“It'll be okay.” I say biting my thumbnail nervously, I'm saying it more for me than her. Prim always finds hope in everything.
Its her turn to smile at me. “Of course it will.” she chirps and I look at her with empty eyes. “Do you want me to toast you up a roll and cheese?” she asks but I shake my head.
“I ate earlier at the hob.” I lie easily “I think I'll just make some tea and go to bed.” I kiss her forehead as I reach for the kettle.
I crawl into bed and snuggle my pillow against my stomach hoping it will help with the gnawing ache that is growing every moment. I am almost asleep when I remember the cookies, I grab one out of my bag and hurry back to our room, placing the perfectly iced cookie on Prim's pillow, a peace offering of sorts. I only now noticed that etched out in the frosting are the perfect, white petals of a katniss flower.
I awaken far later than I meant to. Prim's side in our bed has long gone cold and I curse to myself, angry that she didn't wake me. When I stand the world spins for a moment. I ignore the flip flopping of my stomach as I struggle to find my boots.
I am in the living room when my mother comes out from the kitchen. “What do you think you're doing?” she snaps at me
“Going to get us dinner! Where are my boots!” I shout, pushing past her.
“It can wait! You need rest!” she argues, grabbing my arm so hard I spin around. If I had more energy I probably would have hit her. “You're burning up.” she says pressing her fingers into my clammy forehead.
“I need to go.” I say, doing my best to remain calm.
“You need to eat!” she counters, only now I have noticed that she holds a bowl of porridge in her hands.
“They'll be no food if I don't go out and get it.” I say in a low, cold voice. My mother steps away from me as if I slapped her. Her face crumples for a split second and I think she might cry, but it is only a moment and she steels herself again.
“You won't do your sister any good dead.” She snaps back shoving the bowl into my hands, turning on her heel and stalking away, muttering to herself about how stubborn I am. I stare down at my fingers that are shaking so bad the spoon rattles. I let out a long sigh and sit next to the cold hearth, shoving the lukewarm food into my mouth, not tasting it.
After I have scraped the bowl my mother comes into the room, watching me with guarded eyes. “Happy now?” I say in a thick voice, shoving the bowl in her hands. “Can I go?”
“Nothing I'm going to say is going to stop you.” she sighs handing me my worn boots. “Make sure you put on another pair of socks, its cold.” She says in a softer voice. I roll my eyes at her and she lets out the weariest sound I've ever heard.
“You look just like James when you do that.” She comments and I freeze at my fathers name.
“Don't talk about him.” I say in a voice that I hope sounds brave, but comes out more defeated.
Snow crunches beneath my boots as I do math in my head. We have a little bit of meat salted and stored away, a little but not enough to last us the entire winter. I have a few coins I was putting away for Prim's birthday, I had been saving to buy her a new coat and it broke my heart that it all was going towards food now. Food that won't last long at all.
I venture farther than I have in a long time and my feet scream at me to stop. What little energy that meager breakfast gave me is long gone and I am dizzy. I slurp on some snow to keep my mouth busy, but I am dizzy, if its from my fever or hunger, I can't tell anymore.
I past the lake almost two hours ago and I have yet to see so much as a track, its as if all the animals have disappeared with out a trace. I am about to turn around when I see her, a small doe step out from behind a bush.
My arrow is already nocked by the time she takes another step. I aim but my hands are shaking so violently that the arrow veers to the left, burying itself in a tree a few yards away. I can only stare as she startles and races away off into the forest from wince she came.
I hear the scream of frustration escape my lungs before I realize its me. All of the bitterness and anger that has been bubbling inside of me radiates out into it. I can't stand the thought of seeing my sisters hollow cheeks and fragile little body. I begin to sob, hot tears running silently down my cheeks and freezing there. I fall to my knees, feeling like I could never stand again.
I'm not sure how long I stay like that, my fingers scraping the cold mud. Tears freezing to my skin but I finally stand and head home, defeated.
By the time I reach the fence exhaustion takes over, and I fall against it, if it had been on, I'd have been dead for sure. My father used to tell me as he carried me on his shoulders while he traded. “Sweet girl, if you have another step in you, take it.” I think of this as I crawl under the fence. I make it all the way home before I fall against the door trying not to cry.
My mother finds me there, curled against door, staring off into space.
“Katniss?”
“I almost got a deer today, but I missed... what are we going to do?”
“Katniss, even if you did manage to kill it, how would you have gotten it home?” she asks in a sensible voice. I start to cough and she pushes a tendril of hair that has fallen from my braid out of my face. I stiffen at her touch and she recoils slightly. “I drew you a bath.” She says in a soft voice helping me stand.
I undress slowly, my body feeling stiff and sore. I try to take stock of myself. Bruises litter my olive skin, on my arms and back, both my knees and on my ribs. I have a few shallow cuts and scrapes. My hipbone jut sharply, pulling my skin taunt, I look away quickly, disgusted at myself.
I wince when my icy skin hits the hot water. I pull on my braid methodically as I unravel. I let myself feel for just a moment, hidden behind a partition from my mother, hidden by the steam of a boiled bath I let myself cave in.
I tally what we have and what we don't, and there doesn't seem to be a way to escape this winter. Tears come hot and fast as I cry as quiet as I can. I know what I have to do, and it won't be easy, like most things in my life. If my mother hears me cry, she doesn't come to comfort me and I don't blame her at all.
I wait until the water turns cold before I step out and towel off. I wait until my mother and Prim are asleep before I find the blue dress I used to wear for the reaping, and slip it over my head. I brush my hair and re-braid it in a loose, almost romantic plait. I pinch my cheeks to give them a small amount of color and dab some of my mothers rosewater behind my ears. I stare at myself for a long time before I shove my boots on over my tights and grab a shawl of my mothers from the hall closet.
The seam is quiet tonight, snow falling in soft, fat flakes and catching in my hair. The shawl is threadbare and does little to keep me warm. I step onto the wooden walkway that links the storefronts. I am passing the bakery when I look into the store idly and catch the eye of Peeta as he walks by, his eyebrows furrow in confusion as I speed up, cursing under my breath as he steps out the door and calls my name.
“Katniss what are you doing?” he asks
“Just seemed like a good night for a walk.” I state, irritation lacing my voice.
“Its after curfew.” he says, taking in my dress and boots. “And freezing.” he adds as an afterthought.
“And?” I sneer angrily
“Boy you're a friendly thing.” he says sarcastically
“I have somewhere to be.” I say turning on my heel.
“Fine.” he huffs scrubbing his face with his hand, wrapping his ratty robe around himself tighter, I only notice now that he's barefoot. “Wait!” he shouts “I'm sorry! Come inside, I made tea.” I turn around, my expression softening somewhat.
“I really can't, maybe some other time.” I try to smile, fearing it looks more like a grimace.
“I'll hold you to that.” he jokes softly and turn and walk away, feeling the heat of his stare as I cross the square. I am almost to Cray's when I dare to turn around. His eyes are wide with understanding and it fills me with Shame I have to look away. I don't look back as I knock on the door but I feel his gaze on me. I'm sure this will be all over town tomorrow, the one that hunts beyond the fence, nothing more than a Seam whore.
Cray seems surprised to see me. “Got any game for me girl?” I force myself to straighten my shoulders.
“No, I was hoping-” I choke, swallowing the lump that's forming in my throat. “I was hoping that you needed a little company this evening?” I croak out, my voice sounding small, like a child.
He regards me for a moment, sizing me up with his eyes. “You a virgin, girl?” he asks and I nod, not trusting my voice. He opens the door wider to allow me in. I step into the soft light and when the door slams I jump.
He offers me a shot of white liquor to calm my nerves and I accept, liking the way it burns my throat. His kindness stops there.
He shows me to his room and demands that I undress. I remove the shawl and fold it neatly next I unbutton my dress, kicking it away from me and crossing my arms over my bare breasts. I can smell the stench of liquor on his breath and it gags me as he leans into my ear.
“This is going to hurt.” I nod in understanding, it really will.
He shoves me onto the bed and rips my underwear away. I let out a small gasp and it only serves to excite him, he bites my shoulder and I let out a whimper. He wasn't kidding.
I don't cry out again, I won't give him the satisfaction. As he moves ontop of me I pretend I am hovering above myself, I think of Prim's hollow cheeks and my mother's lifeless gaze. He says something to me, I'm not listening.
Thats when he hits me, cuffing me on the side of my head and I call out in pain. This sends him into a frenzy, pulling my braid but I grit my teeth. Don't cry, Don't cry, Don't cry. I demand of myself, gritting my teeth and steeling myself, balling the sheets in my fists.
He is done soon after, chest heaving as I lay still as a stone beneath him. After what feels like an eternity he rolls his white body off me and demands I get up.
“Get dressed.” he demands and I do as I am told, forgetting the torn panties on the bed. I shove them in my pocket with shaking fingers. He counts out some coins and puts them in a small sack, throwing them on the bed.
“I took out five coins for the stain on the bedsheet.” Only now have I noticed I left a red streak. I nod stoically, trying my best not to cry. “You were good.” he adds cheerfully, “I'll remember that next time.” my face crumples, but I catch myself.
“Now go straight home girl, its past curfew.” he dismisses me and I turn, practically running out the door.
I make it to the butchers before I dissolve in tears, I take stock of myself in the window. My hair is rumpled and there is a bruise blooming on my temple, I unravel my braid quickly to hide it beneath my raven hair. I have a small cut on my lip that would be hard to explain. I am unbelievably sore and I fear I might not be able to walk all the way home. My eyes are swollen and bloodshot from crying.
I give myself one minute to grieve for myself, just one minute of self pity. I let out a small noise from the back of my throat, shoving my hand over my mouth before it becomes a wail that wakes the whole district.
I turn back towards the end of the walkway to see Peeta standing there, leaning against a lamp post. I am inexplicably angry with him.
“What!” I half whisper half shout at him and he flinches at me.
“Are you okay?” he asks and it throws me off guard, the concern in his voice.
I shake my head slowly and begin to walk past him, he grabs my shoulder and I snap back as if I have been burned, causing the coins in my hand to tumble from my fingers and I scramble to pick them up. He watches me with eyes heavy with what? Pity? Grief?
“Katniss?” his voice is soft
“I don't need your pity!” I all but shout, grabbing the last coin from the dirt and straightening the shawl around my shoulders. He holds his hands out as if doesn't know what else to do. I shove past him, stepping off the walkway and towards the darkness of the Seam.
“At least let me walk you home.” he says following me. “You're shaking like a leaf.”
“Don't be ridiculous.” I snap, willing my feet to go faster, I'm almost running though I am so sore I feel like I may collapse. He stops following soon after and watches me as I disappear from view. The rest of my walk home is quiet, I mostly listen to my heartbeat and marvel at the fact that this thing happened and I am still alive, I must have more steps, so I take them.