Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Get out of here, you useless pig! I don’t want to see your face again today! Go annoy someone else with your useless existence!” She screams, waving the rolling pin at me as I am clutching my aching cheek. 

I am not even really sure what I did wrong this time. Usually it is something small and unimportant, but it is never unimportant to her. Somehow the smallest mistake I make always matters somehow. Or at least she always notices. 

She used to do that with Rye too and even Bran used to cower when she grew angry. But neither of them seem to have to deal with the brunt end of her anger anymore now that she has me. In a way I have always been the one she hated the most. The third boy she never wanted, the one that was supposed to be a girl. 

I duck my head to avoid one of her blows before I speed down the hall and up two flights of stairs to the small attic room I share with Rye and Bran. It is small but it is also my safe space. The place where she hardly ever comes, where I can do what I want instead of what she wants. 

Rye is sitting at the little desk we have, working on his homework but looking up when he hears me come in. He lets out a heavy sigh when he sees me holding my cheek. 

“Let me see, Peeta.” He mutters. “What did you do this time?” 

Rye is my older brother. He is seventeen and sandwiched between Bran and me. He is the one that has to help Bran take over the bakery when my parents are no longer able to keep it running. He has no real talent for baking, but he does know how to follow a recipe. He does have a head for numbers though, he has been doing the administration for the bakery for a few months now and he has never made a single mistake. 

“I don’t know.” I mutter. “I was sweeping the back area and she suddenly became angry and charged at me.”

“What was it?” He asks, examining my cheek. 

“Just her hand. Although I ducked the rolling pin.” 

“Put a wet cloth on it for a little while, it might keep the bruise away.” He mutters, before he returns to his work. 

It disappoints me a little to have him react so cold. But it is nothing more that I could have expected. Bruises are a part of our daily life. They are almost normal, we just have to deal with it. 

I silently walk towards the bathroom, pulling out a towel from under the sink before I wet it and press it against the lower part of my cheek. It had been going so well. It had been a few weeks since she last hit me, it had been so long that almost all of the other bruises were gone. But now I was back at square one, back at the beginning. 

I stare in the mirror for a little while when I hear a soft knock on the door. 

“Peeta? Are you in there?”

“Yeah, dad. Just a moment.” I reply, turning around and unlocking the door for him to come in. 

When he does come in, he doesn’t look up from the drawing in his hands. 

“I really like this new design you ma-” He starts before he looks up and stops. His eyes fly over the towel I am holding before he sighs heavily, sounding disappointed. “Oh Peeta.”

“I know. I know.” I mutter. “I shouldn’t anger her. I will be more careful.”

He gives me a sad look but doesn’t say another word before his attention returns to my drawings. 

“I really like this new design for the birthday cake for Cray. You think you can start working on it tomorrow after school?” 

“I’ll try.” I mutter. 

“Good boy.” Dad replies before he turns around and walks away. 

Dad isn’t a bad person, but he is a weak one. Sometimes I think that he is afraid of mom. That he is afraid she will leave him although I think that he might be better off if she would do that. Multiple times I have hoped that he would say something to her when I showed up with another batch of bruises, but he never did. 

I sigh heavily before I put the towel in the laundry bin and sneak back downstairs. I try to avoid the shop and the clients in it by going through the shack and into the backyard. It isn’t really a yard but it is where we keep our pigs. 

They oink happily at me as I walk past, my hands shoved deep into my pockets. Fall is starting to come in and it is starting to get cold. Not so cold I really need my jacket but also on the edge of being bearable without it. I walk past the school towards the junk hill on the opposite side of the square. 

School has just started again now that the games are once again over. A boy from Nine won this year, not that it really mattered for our tributes. The boy, Jett, was only twelve and died about 30 seconds after the countdown ended. The girl, Aloy, lasted about 5 minutes longer. She was seventeen and in Rye’s year in school. They died and the games are gone for another year. 

I walk towards the little hangout spot on the side of the hill. He has been coming here for the last year and he has managed to keep it a secret from Rye and our parents. He isn’t fooling me though. He always tells them he has to help Elory, the pub owner’s daughter, with schoolwork, but he doesn’t. She likes him though so she lies for him in the hopes that he will one day see her as a potential wife. 

Mom likes her because she is from town, so she allows it. 

They aren’t hard to spot from afar even though they have no clue that I am coming. Bran is eighteen and gay. That isn’t public knowledge because our parents would kill him but his friends know that he has a boyfriend. Mom would kill him even more if she found out it is not only a boy, but a boy from the seam. Silt is eighteen and working as a bomber in the mines ever since the games ended. It doesn’t stop them from seeing each other even though it is harder than it was when they were both still in school. 

Silt notices me first as he breaks his kiss, looking at me with a mixture of annoyance and concern. 

“Bran.” He mutters, placing a small peck on my brother's lips. “Your little brother.” 

Bran’s head flips around to look at me as his eyes scan me from head to toe. Looking for any bruises, before his eyes fall on what must be showing on my cheek now. 

“Peet?” He asks. “What happened?” 

“Can we talk?” I mutter, looking at the ground, afraid that he might be angry that I even asked. 

“Yeah, of course, buddy. Give me a moment.” 

I watch silently as they softly talk to each other, my foot kicking a stone that is right in front of me before I hear them kiss and see Silt walk away. Bran sighs heavily before he turns around and smiles at me. 

“Allright.” He mutters, putting his hand on my lower back and pushing me towards the path that leads to the fence. “What happened this time?”

“I am not sure.” I mutter. “I was just wiping the floor and suddenly she got angry.” 

“Did she say anything? Give you any hint of what might have been wrong?” 

“No, I don -” 

“Think about it for a moment, Peet. Really think about it.” 

I try to think really hard about it, going back to the moment that she lashed out at me. I even imagine the broom in my hands. I was sweeping the backroom where we store the flour and the eggs and stuff. I really paid attention to sweeping the corners because she had been mad about that before. But there is nothing. I swiped up the little piles, I even put away all of the stuff in the closet so she wouldn’t be bothered by it. 

“There is nothing -” I tell him. 

“What about before? What did you do before you picked up the broom?” He asks me, as he stops walking to give me room to think. 

I close my eyes for a moment as I walk my way back through time. Reversing my motions of that afternoon. Before I started cleaning the backroom I cleaned the counters where we knead the dough. I made sure to clean them and dry them before I redid both and checked it after to see if they were dry. No mistake there. 

Before that I came home from school. There was a batch of cinnamon buns out on the counter, the oven was unoccupied so I put them in. I put the temperature on 400 degrees and than I set the timer to 20 minu- 

Fuck. That was what was wrong. That is why she had hit me. I put the timer on 20 minutes while it should have been on 18 minutes. I ruined a whole batch of expensive cinnamon buns. 

“Fuck.” I mutter, but this time out loud. 

“First, language.” Bran tells me, acting like my older brother. “Second, what happened?” 

“I ruined the buns.” I mutter. “I put the timer on 20 minutes instead of 18.” 

“That didn’t ruin them, even though they might have been a little darker than normal. They can still be sold though. She shouldn’t have been angry about that.” 

“But she was.” I reply. “She called me useless and told me that she didn’t want to see me anymore.”

“Well, she shouldn’t have been. It was just a mistake and not even one that really hurt anyone.” Bran tells me. “Besides, you are only fifteen, she can’t expect you to know everything.” 

“Tell that to mom.” I mutter. “Preferably before she slaps me.”

Bran sighs heavily. 

“Is that the mark on your cheek?” 

I nod my head. 

“I thought she did better with that. I thought you told me she hadn’t hit you in a while.” 

“She hadn’t.” I sigh. “Until now.” 

We walk down the path together a little while longer. Not saying a word to each other. Bran has been where I was. He saw the brunt end of her hands or even her rolling pin more than once when he was my age. But he learned to avoid it. He learned to stop making mistakes so she wouldn’t get angry anymore. I still can’t seem to fix myself into doing that. 

Rye, for some reason, was even faster with gaining her favor. It was almost like she liked him more from the very beginning. Like he was her perfect son because he was smart and listened and naturally did not make a lot of mistakes. 

I just seem to be unlucky and stupid. Unlucky because I am the last child and there is no younger sibling she can turn to after me and stupid because I keep making the same mistakes over and over. I keep making her mad. 

When we enter the square I can feel the tension rise. Bran is walking towards the bakery but I am not sure if I am ready to face my parents yet. What will happen when I walk through that door? Mom was pretty clear that she did not want to see me. 

I stop in the middle of the square, right in front of the justice building. Bran takes a couple more steps before he realizes I stopped walking and turns around to look at me. 

“Come on, Peet.” Bran tells me. “She probably didn’t mean it when she told you to stay away.” 

“How can you be sure?” 

“She told me the exact same thing so many times, and when I came she always welcomed me back.” Bran tells me. “I will convince her that you didn’t do it on purpose, but you have to come with me.” 

I hesitate for another moment, breathing in deeply a couple of times before I walk towards my oldest brother. He opens the door to the shop, that has been closed for the day, before he takes the stairs on the left towards the apartment above the bakery. 

The house is small, especially for a family of five, but we manage. I hardly spend any time in the tiny living room except to eat. I usually go outside or up to our room when I have free time. Not that there is a lot of that with the amount of time we spend in the bakery. 

Bran walks into the living room, mom and Rye are already at the table while dad is just putting a plate with vegetables on the table. 

“Just in time, Bran.” Mom says as she watches him walk in, a tender smile on her face. The smile immediately falls when she notices me behind him. Her eyes turn dark as I want to sink back down the stairs and run out the door. 

Bran sees it too, stepping in front of me to protect me. 

“Mom, he didn’t do it on purpose.” 

“I don’t care, Bran. I told him I did not want to see him anymore today and I meant it.” Mom says, not even looking at me. 

“It was a mistake, mom! It didn’t even ruin the cinnamon buns. You know that as well as I do!” 

“Bran, stop it!” Mom says, grabbing her plate and adding some potatoes on each of the four plates that are on the table. Dad walks in with a carafe of water, looking up only briefly before he focuses on the table in front of him. 

“Dad? Come on! You can’t be serious.” Bran tries, but dad doesn’t even look up. 

“Bran, listen to your mother.” Dad says. 

Bran lets out a huff of frustration, flexing and balling his hands in anger. 

“This is bu -” Bran starts before I put my hand on his lower arm which makes him look back at me. 

“It’s fine, Bran. I’ll just go upstairs. I’ll be fine.” I tell him, turning around and walking away towards the stairs that lead to the attic without waiting for a reaction. I don’t want them to get mad at Bran too. There is no need for him to suffer because I made a mistake. 

I speed up the attic steps, wanting to get away from the living room and my parents as fast as I can. I sit down on my bed when I enter our little room, grabbing my sketchbook from under my pillow as I sit back to lean against the wall. 

Our room isn’t much and it is incredibly crowded. Bran’s bed is on one side of the room, the little desk that we have next to his pillow while Rye’s bed is right on the other side of the door. My bed, or more cot, is against the wall, my head near Bran’s foot of the bed while my feet are almost touching Rye’s. 

My bed isn’t nearly as long as the ones that belong to my brother’s and it is basically a couple of planks that are attached to their beds. There wasn’t room for more so the only way for me to sleep is curled up into a ball or I might either find my feet fighting with Rye’s or my nose stuffed with Bran’s toes. 

I sigh heavily before I flip open my precious sketch book. It is an expensive one that I got from dad to practice drawing. He told me that mom didn’t know but that he wanted me to practice to make the cake designs better. Mom would probably tell me that I don’t need the practice or that using the book for just simple drawings is a waste of money. But I am happy to have it. 

Everytime I start drawing I flip through the pages, seeing my drawings get better and better. They are more detailed with every page you flip as almost every inch of every page is filled to make the paper last. 

Most of my drawings are of people, specifically one. She is featured heavily in them. Sometimes alone, sometimes with her little sister, her friend Gale or old drawings of her and her father when he was still around. Katniss is splattered over every part of my sketch book which makes me feel a little pathetic. 

It is not like she even knows who I am. I don’t even think she remembers me other than the blond baker’s kid that she passes in school. Delly and Madge tell me that she must realize I exist, but I am not so sure. She has never acknowledged my existence while I have whole sketchbooks full of her. 

Mom hit me particularly hard when I burned the bread for her when I found her in the rain. It would have been even worse if she had realized I had burned it for a seam girl. It might have been the only time that I took a beating and didn’t mind it. It was worth it to help her when she looked so incredibly desperate. I only wished that I had had the decency to walk towards her instead of throwing her the bread because mom was nearby. But there is nothing I can change about that. 

I sigh heavily before I flip to a new page and close my eyes to think back to that moment at school. The moment the teacher asked her in front of the class to write down an answer. I try to imagine how her hair cascaded down her shoulders and her back. I try to envision the way she was holding the piece of chalk. When I have a good image of what I want to draw, I start. Drawing carefully to make it absolutely perfect. 

I only look up when I hear the door open in front of me. Bran is in the doorway, looking at me with sad eyes. He doesn’t say a word as he steps into the room and closes the door behind him before he sits down next to me on my cot. I look at him, remaining silent.

“I am sorry, Peet. I tried.”  

“I know.” I reply. “It’s not your fault.” 

“It isn’t yours either.” Bran tries, but I don’t really believe it. 

It almost feels awkward to sit next to him because I have no clue what to talk about. He tried and I am grateful for it, but I still feel like I am somehow less than my brothers. 

“Are you hungry?” Bran asks. 

“A little.” I mutter, not having thought about the fact that I missed dinner. 

“I can see if I can find some stale bread in the warehouse for you to eat.” 

“Would you?” I ask. 

“Yeah, Peet. Of course.” He replies. “I’ll go down now and see if I can find something for you to eat. There is no need for you to starve in a bakery.” 

“Thanks.” I mutter. 

“No problem.” He replies, before he gives me a pat on my thigh and getting up again. 

When he leaves the room I go back to drawing. Putting down a few more lines before I realize that the image is lost to me and that no matter what I do I can’t get it back. Suddenly my stomach is aching for food and it distracts me so much that there is no way for me to ignore it. Putting down my sketchbook seems like the only viable option. 

When Bran returns he has a small round bun with him, it is hardly the size of a decent meal, but it is something. He sits down on his own bed for a little while as I eat the bun in tiny bites, trying to drag it out in the hopes that it will feel like more than it is. 

When I am done I tell Bran that I am tired and that I am going to go to bed. I quietly get dressed for bed before I get under my blanket and settle down. Bran kneels down beside my bed, kissing my forehead gently like he has done so many times before. I often think that I am getting too old for a good night’s kiss, but I can’t make myself say that. 

“Sleep well, Peet.” He mutters. “Tomorrow is another day.”

“I will try to be better tomorrow.” I mutter. “I have to be to please her.” 

“You are perfect as you are, Peet.” Bran replies. “Don’t let her tell you that you are not.” 

“I still have to do better though.” I tell him, yawning loudly. “If I do better she won’t hit me. If I do better she might see me more like she sees you and Rye.” 

“I am not sure if that will change with doing better.” Bran tells me, petting my hair. “She seems to be very set in her ways.” 

“Still doesn’t hurt to try.” I reply. “So I will.”

Chapter Text

I wake up early the next morning when Bran’s alarm goes off, telling that he needs to get ready to help mom and dad with the bakery. Rye is usually groggy and will snooze for another half an hour before he finally gets up while Bran is wide awake right away. Getting on his work clothes before he covers them with a new apron. 

I follow his example, before I follow him down the stairs towards the bakery. We start working before we have breakfast and we each have our own tasks. Dad won’t get up for another half an hour, while mom usually gets up just in time to open the shop. It is really Bran and me who usually get everything going. I am not sure if everything would be ready in time if we didn’t. 

Usually I don’t mind the mornings. It is a good way to wake up before school starts and I have some time in the peace of the bakery without my mother around. Bran and I usually work silently, both of us knowing exactly what we are supposed to do. 

This morning I have one extra job to do. I need to make the icing for the cake for Cray so it can cool down in the fridge before dad and I are going to decorate the cake that afternoon. I silently grab all the ingredients before I throw them together and mix them while Bran works on the bread for that day. When I am done I join him, working a little faster than I normally do to get it all done. Rye joins us with a groggy head, taking care of the pastries like he normally does. 

I freeze when I hear the sounds of people moving upstairs another half an hour later. Dad is the first one to come downstairs, his hair still a little tousled as he sends us a warm smile when he enters. 

“What would I do without you boys?” He mutters, tousling my hair to match his. “Did you make the frosting, Peeta?” 

“Yes, dad. It is in the fridge.” I reply. 

“Good job, son. I’ll make sure we have the right ingredients to make all the different colors you thought about. We will make sure the cake is just like you imagined it.” Dad replies. “Now boys, finish up and get your breakfast. I put something out for you in the kitchen.” 

All three of us lose our aprons, putting them on the little coat rack in the corner, before we silently walk up the stairs. There is a small assortment of buns on the kitchen table, all of them slightly stale because they weren’t sold the day before, but we are used to that. I just want to sit down at the table when I can feel a cold hand in the back of my neck. 

“Who told you you were welcome here again?” Mom hisses, her eyes all but spewing fire. “I thought I had said that I did not want to see you!” 

“Mom!” Bran tries, but one movement of her hand shuts him up. 

“Get out of here now! Boys like you do not deserve breakfast!” She hisses before she shoves me towards the stairs. 

I hurry down the stairs with tears in my eyes. What did I do wrong to deserve this? I had worked twice as hard that morning to make sure everything was ready and still she was mad at me. 

“Peeta?” Dad asks as I rush straight through the backroom towards the backdoor. Struggling to open the lock on the door as dad closes in on me. “Peeta, wait!” 

I freeze for a moment, turning around to look at him. There is no way that I can hide the tears in my eyes from him. There is no way that I can lie to him and tell him that I really wanted to get out of the house this early. 

“What’s wrong, Peeta?” 

“Nothing.” I mutter in an half ass attempt to hide everything. Wiping my eyes with my shirt sleeve to make it better. 

“You don’t expect me to believe that do you? I send you upstairs for breakfast a couple of minutes ago, you can’t be done so fast. What happe -” Dad asks before he probably realizes what is wrong. He sighs heavily before he turns around and walks towards the stairs. “Mina!” 

I don’t wait around to listen to their conversation. I don’t even want breakfast anymore. Going hungry is not the worst of my problems. A lot of the kids in my class are used to going to school without breakfast, I am sure I can handle it. 

I lodge my hands in my pockets as I set off to the hill. I can’t go to school yet, there is still an hour before it starts and people will ask questions if I show up this early. Questions I am not willing to answer. 

When I reach the hill I walk left instead of right, starting the path towards the seam. I will be able to walk around all of it at least once before the bell rings. I watch how the people wake up. How windows open and meager breakfasts are prepared. I see how the miners say goodbye to their wives and kids in the hopes that they will return home safely. 

Accidents happen, none as major as the explosion that killed so many of them three years ago, but they still happen. There hasn’t been a year in which there wasn’t an accident with some kind of fatality. 

On the last row near the fence there are a few houses where some of the young miners live. They are small, two room apartments that are cheaper than your average seam house which makes them perfect for guys who are somehow still single. Most of the youth in District Twelve get married once they are out of the reaping or not long thereafter. They start families early because they tend to die early. It is a case of self preservation more than anything else.

Despite the fact that people marry so young, there are hardly any cases of divorce. That doesn’t mean that there aren’t any problems, I mean look at my own parents, but there are just not a lot of people that split up. Probably because it is very hard to provide for yourself when you are on your own. 

I walk past the apartments when I suddenly hear my name. 

“Peeta?” Silt asks, standing on the porch of his house, wearing only a pair of jeans while he is brushing his teeth. “What are you doing here?” 

It is almost weird to see his muscled chest. I sort of get why Bran might be attracted to him even though I am not gay. He does look like a strong man and his olive skin shines in the morning sun. 

“Come on, buddy. Bran would kill me if he knew I saw you and didn’t help. Why don’t you come here and talk to me.” Silt tries, to which I comply. 

I softly walk towards his porch, sitting down on one of the old tree trunks that serve as chairs. On one of the others stands a plate with a few breadcrumbs that makes me instantly aware of how empty my stomach feels. I am not going to ask him for something though. You never ask someone for food in District Twelve unless they offer it to you in some rare cases. Most of us don’t have enough to eat ourselves. 

“What happened, Peeta?” He asks, putting a glass of water in front of me. 

“Nothing.” I mutter before I take a big gulp. 

“So you are walking around the district at the crack of dawn voluntarily?” Silt asks. “Somehow I doubt that even for a baker’s son.” 

“Why do you care?” I ask, taking another sip. 

“You are my boyfriend’s little brother. It would be weird if I didn’t.” Silt replies. 

“Well, my mom doesn’t even care so I won’t expect you to.” 

Silt sighs heavily before he sits down on the trunk beside me. 

“Bran told me that your mom would never win the best parent of the year award.” Silt mutters, looking at the ground beneath his feet. “Is that what caused this? Your mom?” 

“Maybe.” I mutter. 

“Want to talk about it?” Silt asks. 

I quietly shake my head. We don’t talk about those things. Private things will remain private in Twelve. No one needs to know what happens inside your house. 

Silt sighs heavily before he gets up. 

“Alright. I have to go to work so how about you hang out here until school starts?” Silt tells me. “No need to walk about the district if you can sit and relax. Know that you always can, no matter the hour. Okay?”

I nod my head slightly before I watch him get on his gear. The thick fabrics that protect him from harm in the mines, the helmet that protects his head. It is all heavy stuff that I’ll probably have to wear one day. There is no use for three men to run a bakery, at least one has to go and do something else. And if it was up to my mom, that would be me. 

He walks away slowly, meeting up with his neighbors in front of his block before they walk to the mine entrance together. I notice a small glance back at me when he is almost out of sight but that could just have been my imagination. 

For the next 30 minutes I contemplate if I am that desperate that I want to eat the crumbs on his empty plate. My ego holds me back but in the end my hunger wins, scraping the plate of any and all that was left on it before I get up and leave for school. 

When I walk into the schoolyard, Madge, Onna and Delly are waiting for me. We’ve been friends since we were born, having played in the square together from the moment we could walk and talk. 

“Peeta, where were you?” Delly asks. “Bran told us that you had already left when we came to pick you up.” 

“I went for a morning walk.” I mutter, shrugging my shoulders. 

“A morning walk?” Onna asks. “Since when do you do those?” 

“Since it gets a little crowded in the bakery during morning chores.” I reply. “Does that never happen at your place?” 

Onna is the greengrocer’s daughter and she has a lot of siblings, so many that I lost count. Onna is the oldest and her main task is taking care of her younger siblings when her parents are busy. She hardly ever hangs out with us after school and I am less close with her than with Madge and Delly. 

Delly’s parents own the shoe shop. She helps them with the repairs and often tends to the register, but her parents also allow her time off to spend with us. 

Madge, as the Mayor’s daughter, doesn’t have to do anything. She is bored often and has a lot of friends to keep her occupied. She likes to read and I think she has read every book in her dad’s library at least once. She often tells us about old symbols and she whispers rebellion every now and then. I don’t think she seriously wants to be rebellious, but she is bored enough to think about it. 

Madge and Delly know what happens in my home to some extend. Delly has been a witness to many of my mothers rants because mom never cares to check if the door is closed and Delly is our next door neighbor. Delly shared her worries with Madge and they both confronted me about it. I denied every word, but they didn’t believe me. 

We don’t talk about it. But they know. For now that feels like enough. 

“Well, no.” Onna replies. “I mean it is crowded, but I don’t exactly have chores in the shop, so…” 

At that moment the school bell rings, telling us to get inside. While Onna and Delly walk in front of us, Madge and I follow. She grabs my hand which catches my attention right away. She looks at me with pity in her eyes before she squeezes my hand, showing me support without saying anything. I squeeze back before I let go and walk into the school. 

The day goes by slowly. Classes pass by without a fuss until we reach History of Panem where we talk about how the districts were formed and how their main industry was picked. We talk about how Twelve was doomed by the soil we are on until Madge tries to plead a case about how we could have been a good place for fruit trees or something like that. Most of the class doesn’t bite. 

As the end of the day draws nearer I get more and more tense. I have to go back to the bakery to work on the cake, but I also know that mom will be there. She probably will allow me to work because there is work that needs to be done, but she will be watching my every move. 

When school ends I walk home with my hands locked in my pockets. I told Delly and Madge that I would try to get out after my chores but that it was unlikely because of the size of the cake. They told me they would love to see me but that they would understand if it didn’t work out. 

I walk past the pigs onto the back steps and into the storage room of the bakery. Dad is working on the frosting when he turns around to look at me. 

“Hey Peet.” He tells me with a bright smile. “Let’s get this party started.” 

It brings a smile to my face as well. Decorating cakes is the highlight of my week. It is the passion dad and I share, the thing we can spend hours doing without talking. Just working alongside each other to make an edible piece of art. 

It is a good thing that Cray absolutely loves cake, or we might not have the chance to do this as often as we do. 

I walk away towards the coat rack, grabbing an apron before I move to the sink to wash my hands. The base layer of the cake is already there, all it needs is the frosting. 

“I mixed all the colors you wanted.” Dad tells me. “And I applied a base layer. I think we should start with the skin pieces and add the details on top of that.” 

I nod my head before I look over the design I made again. The drawing is nice even though the depiction on it feels wrong. Cray’s cakes are always about either one of two things; the games or nearly naked women. This time it is the latter and she is only wearing a tiny bikini over her more than average breasts. 

It feels kind of wrong to make these kinds of designs that depict women in this way, but it keeps him happy and that is the most important thing. I certainly enjoy it more to design floral and children’s cakes for weddings and birthdays in which the people have enough money to buy one. 

I grab the piping bag before I start working on the main drawing. Dad is beside me working on the decorations on the sides as he carefully tries not to get in my way. Before we discovered my talent, it was dad who did the decorating. But now we both know that my cakes are better. 

We work on the cake for close to two hours, making it absolutely perfect before dad puts it in a box and loses his apron to deliver it. 

“You did a good job, Peet. Perfect once again.” 

“Thanks, dad.” I mutter, feeling proud. 

“Now why don’t you clean up and sweep the floors while I make the delivery? After that you can help me with the frosting for the cinnamon rolls for tomorrow.” 

I nod my head before I start cleaning the counter. I hear the door close behind me and about at the same time I hear the bell that signals a new customer in the shop. Mom is probably there so I don’t react until I hear someone shout a loud hello in the shop which tells me that no one is there to help him. 

I quickly clean my hands on my apron before I walk to through the door and into the shop. Mayor Undersee is waiting in front of the counter. 

“Good afternoon, Mayor Undersee. What can I do for you?” I ask him. 

“Hi Peeta.” He says smiling at me. “Madge has been waiting for you in the square for ages. She told me she liked reading outside but I am sure that I saw her glance here a couple of times.” 

“I’ll see if I can clean up fast and go out there.” I reply. “Had a lot of work to do though.” 

“You boys always work so hard.” Mayor Undersee replies. “Your parents should be proud of you!” 

I don’t react to his comment but I do smile at him. 

“So what can I do for you, Mayor?” 

“Right.” He mutters. “There is a Capitol liaison coming tomorrow and I would like to have some of your excellent cinnamon buns to present to him. Do you still have those?” 

“We do.” I reply, looking at the basket that is holding them. “But we can also deliver some fresh ones to your house tomorrow morning.” 

“Could you? That would be perfect!” 

“Of course, just tell me how many and I will get them to you as soon as they are done baking.” I tell the man with a bright smile. I am quite proud of myself, keeping the people that can afford our more luxurious bakings happy is my moms main goal. She might actually like me for once after this. 

“If you could deliver eight of them, that would be absolutely perfect.” Mayor Undersee replies.

“Consider it done.” I reply. “Anything else I can do?” 

“Yes, give me two of the ones you have right now. I think Madge would love something sweet and I’ll pay you up front for the ones I need tomorrow.” 

I grab two cinnamon rolls and put them in a little bag before I handle the transaction and wish him a good day. I watch as he walks out of the door, putting the money in the register. 

“What do you think you are doing?” Mom hisses from the doorway. 

“Mayor Undersee wanted to place an order for tomorrow and he wanted something now. I helped him.” I reply, not looking at her because I am scared. Her tone was all but friendly. 

“And you served him in that? ” 

I look at myself at her comment. Yes, I am wearing my baker’s whites, but someone visiting a bakery wouldn’t mind that, would they? I don’t even have time to think about it when mom grabs my upper arm and drags me towards the backroom. She throws me in the corner, making me stumble and fall to the floor before I see her grab my broom from the corner of my eye. 

“How dare you serve someone looking like that!” Mom hisses. “Were you even serving anyone? Maybe you were just stealing our hard earned money!”

“No! He was really here! I wrote down his order!” I reply before the handle of the broom hits my back making me double over in pain. 

“Lies! You filthy thief!” Mom shouts as she starts bringing down the handle over and over again. 

There is nothing I can do but try to protect my head as she hits me in my sides, on my legs and on my back. She doesn’t hit my head, probably to make sure that no one notices. After five minutes she calms down, or at least she stops. 

“What did I do to get cursed with you? Get lost! If you feel the need to steal our hard earned money, you can get yourself dinner because you are not getting mine!” 

At that moment the bell of the shop rings as she takes a couple of deep breaths, puts up a smile and walks out to serve the customers. 

All I want to do is cry. Cry and disappear. Everything hurts. My body, my heart. Everything. 

With all the strength I have left I crawl towards the counter that I was so happy at only half an hour ago. I crawl in the space underneath it before I curl up in a ball and let my tears flow.

Chapter Text

Dad comes home half an hour later. He calls out for me a couple of times but I do not react. I don’t want him to see me like this. I don’t want him to know how pathetic I am. After a couple of minutes he apparently gives up when he walks upstairs towards the house. 

It remains silent, apart from the store bell, for another half hour before Rye walks into the bakery. He is whistling softly as he gets his apron off the hook and starts working on his chores for the day. 

“Hey Rye.” Dad says as he walks back into the room. “Did you see Peeta at practice?” 

“What?” Rye replies. “Peeta doesn’t have practice on thursdays.” 

“I know that, Rye. But he was here one moment and after I delivered the cake he was gone. Your mother said she doesn’t know where he is and neither does Madge who was waiting for him in the square.” 

“Well, I haven’t seen him.” Rye replies. “He is probably fine, dad. You know how he likes to walk around the district sometimes, maybe he is doing that.” 

“Maybe.” Dad mutters before he grabs some of the doughballs in the corner and starts kneading them. 

They work silently together for a long time when the door opens again. Bran is in the doorway, his hair is a mess and the uppermost buttons on his shirt are left open. Rye smirks at the sight while dad clears his throat in discomfort. 

“Check a mirror next time, handsome.” Rye smirks. 

“Oh fuck you.” Bran replies with a bright smile on his face. 

If only they knew. They all think he probably got into Elory’s pants while I know that he must have hit it on with Silt after he was done in the mines. 

“Quit it, boys. There is enough work to do especially since Peeta isn’t here.” Dad says. 

“Where is Peeta?” Bran asks, sounding suddenly alarmed. 

“He left when I was delivering the cake and I have no idea where he is. I even asked Madge out front but she hadn't seen him either.” 

“So you gave up on finding him?” Bran asks, sounding angry. “You asked one of his friends and then you gave up?”

“Well, we have a lot of work to do.” Dad mutters. 

“Since when is work more important than your son who goes missing while he knows there are still chores? Your son who has such a passion for this bakery that he wouldn’t just abandon it.” 

“Chill out, Bran. He is fifteen, it is not like he is a toddler who can drown in the river.” Rye replies. “He is probably just fine somewhere.” 

“Very charming, Rye. I would have expected a little more sympathy from you since he is the one who is taking the beatings you avoided like a pussy!” Bran hisses. “Did either of you even think of the possibility that he is not here because of her? Because she did something that he is trying to deal with on his own?” 

“She told me it wasn’t, Bran. She told me she hasn’t seen him.” Dad replies. 

“And you believe her?” 

“I don’t see a reason not to.” Dad says, which makes my heart sink. 

“You are unbelievable!” Bran shouts before he walks out the door and slams it behind him. 

Dad and Rye don’t say another word as they silently work together until dinner time. I can hear mom’s voice from upstairs, calling them to the table and when they both leave the silence returns to the back room. 

I breathe out deeply when they flip the light switch and the room turns to darkness. I know that I’ll have to get out of my hiding place at some point but I am not ready for it yet. I don’t want to face the consequences of what happened. I don’t want to look at myself in the mirror or feel my body hurting with every move I make. 

In fact I don’t want to do anything. I just want to stay here and forget I exist. I can already feel the raging headache come up and when I close my eyes to deal with it I can feel myself slip away and fall asleep. 

I wake with a loud grunt when the beam of a bright flashlight shines in my eyes. 

“Peet?” I hear Bran says from the doorway, the flashlight that he must have borrowed from Silt’s work kit in one of his hands. 

“Yeah.” I mutter, figuring that he found me and that if I want anyone to help me it is him. 

His footsteps speed up towards me as the light comes on and he kneels down in front of the counter to look at me. His eyes are big as he looks at me. 

“What are you doing here? What happened?” He asks. 

“Nothing.” I mutter, like I always do. 

“So you have been hiding under the counter for half a day while you knew we were looking for you because of nothing?” Bran asks. “Does that sound logical to you?” 

“No.” I reply, not elaborating further. 

“Peet.” Bran sighs. “Talk to me.” 

“There is nothing to talk about.” I mutter. “I just hid in here. That’s it.” 

Bran sighs again, the signs of frustration clear in his eyes. He definitely knows I am lying. 

“Alright.” He mutters. “Let’s get you out of here. Maybe there is some dinner left for the both of us before we go to bed. You have school in the morning.” 

“I don’t think mom wants me to have dinner.” 

“I don’t care if she wants you to or not. You are going to get some. She can’t let you starve like this.” 

“I am pretty sure she can.” I reply before I move my body for the first time in hours. 

A flash of pain radiates through it that makes me hiss loudly which alarms Bran. His eyes turn from surprise to anger in mere minutes.

“I am going to fucking kill her.” He hisses as he reaches out his hands to help me. 

“No, you won’t.” I reply. “You’ll get in a shitload of trouble that I am not worth.” 

“I can decide what to do myself, thank you. And don’t ever tell me you are not worth fighting for. I know that mom and dad are personally responsible for you feeling that way but I care and Silt cares. I know you were there this morning. I know that you basically fled to the other side of the district because mom decided to be an awful person again.” Bran tells me, as he supports me onto my knees and onto my feet until I am standing. “Care to tell me what happened now?” 

“Not really.” 

“Peet, stop doing this. This is not your fault!” 

“I just don’t want to talk about it. Can’t you just let it go?” 

“Fine, I’ll let it go on one condition.” Bran replies, holding me steady as I try to move my muscles against the bruises. 

“Which is?”

“I need to see what she did. I need to see the bruises. I need to see if you need something.”

“Fine.” I mutter, pulling the apron off my head and throwing it aside before lifting my shirt. The sharp inhale that Bran gives me tells me that it might be worse than I expected. That there might be more bruising than I initially thought.

“Jesus, Peet. What did she do?” Bran says, softly guiding me to turn around and show him my back. 

“Broom handle.” I mutter, before I pull down my shirt and start to move towards the stairs. I go slow as I try to hide the pain from Bran, not that he doesn’t know that it hurts, but still. 

“You sure you can handle the stairs?” 

“I’ll have to.” I reply. “Need to get upstairs somehow.” 

I slowly walk my way up the stairs while Bran keeps watch behind me. I am sure that I am not going to fall, but Bran seems to doubt that. He acts like some kind of barrier in case I lose my footing. 

Once I reach the top floor I am exhausted. I don’t want to admit it but she hurt me worse than ever. She might have even bruised or cracked a rib with the broomhandle. 

While I catch my breath, Bran walks past me towards the dark kitchen. He opens the fridge to find a single plate waiting with his name on it. He grabs it before he grabs a second one and divides the plate in two different portions before he puts both of the plates on the table and tells me to sit down. 

I reluctantly do in the darkness of the night before I grab the fork and start eating.

“Where have you been?” Dad whispers from the hallway, he is wearing his pajamas and looking like we just woke him up. 

Before I can even think about an answer, Bran opens his mouth. 

“He was under the counter in the backroom, hiding.” 

“Why?” Dad asks, stepping into the room and sitting down at the table beside me. I don’t look at him, focusing on my food instead. 

“Because mom beat him with a broomhandle, that is why.” 

“Peeta? Talk to me son.” Dad mutters, but I ignoring him as I shove another mouthful of very wanted food into my mouth. “What happened?” 

“He won’t tell you. He doesn’t want to talk about it.” Bran replies. “But he is hurting, dad. His back and sides are black and blue. This has to stop.” 

“She told me she had nothing to do with it.” Dad says. 

“Well, obviously she was lying. Or do you think that he did this to himself?” Bran says. “He is starving, dad. And I know that starving in this hell hole is not uncommon, but he isn’t starving because there isn’t enough food or enough money to buy food. He is starving because she keeps it from him!” 

“What do you want me to do, Bran?” Dad asks. “I can’t be here to watch over him every minute of every day. I have a business to run!” 

“You don’t need to babysit him, he isn’t the problem! That woman upstairs is and you are letting her!” 

“That woman is your mother!” Dad hisses. “Show her some respect!” 

“She doesn’t deserve any!” Bran says. “She doesn’t even deserve to be called a mom. Not with how she decides to treat her children!” 

“Watch it, Bran!” 

“Or what?” Bran replies. “What are you going to do, dad? Give me house arrest? Make me do a double shift? I am an adult, you can’t tell me what to do!” 

“As long as you are living under my roof I can!” Dad replies. 

I try to ignore them completely, finishing the food before I sneak away towards the stairs to the attic. I am not even sure that they notice I am leaving as I try to be as silent as possible. Slipping into our room before softly closing the door behind me. Rye is sleeping, or at least pretending to, with his back to the door. Not acknowledging me in any way. 

I try to keep in all of my sounds of pain when I lift my shirt over my head and loose my pants, before I carefully step into my bed and snuggle under my blankets. I vaguely recall Bran whispering my name when he enters the room but I am already too far gone to react. 

In fact I am so tired that I do not immediately wake the next morning when Bran’s alarm clock goes off. Instead I only wake when Rye roughly grabs my shoulders and shakes me awake making me hiss in pain. 

“Wake up, Peeta. You should be downstairs already.” 

He doesn’t even wait for me as he goes downstairs. Leaving me to tend to my aching body on my own. It hurts even worse than it did yesterday, all of the muscles stiff and aching. 

Bran has a look of pity on his face when I enter but he doesn’t say a word. Probably because Rye is right next to him. When dad calls us to breakfast, I am allowed to join them. Mom has a sour look on her face but it isn’t directed at me this time. Instead it is directed at Bran, like she knows what he said last night and she is more angry with him than with me. 

I wish them all a good day before I walk out of the front door towards the square where Onna, Delly and Madge are waiting for me. Delly gives me a weary smile, like she knows something is wrong, which I return with a smile of my own. 

“I waited for you all afternoon yesterday.” Madge mutters. “Your dad even came to ask me where you were. So, where were you?” 

“In the backroom. Dad just didn’t look good enough.” I say, only half lying. 

“So nothing happened? Madge asks. 

“No.” I mutter. “Nothing.” 

“What should have happened?” Onna asks, sounding as oblivious as always. 

“I don’t know.” Madge replies. “It was just weird that’s all.” 

“Well, luckily there is nothing wrong.” Delly ads, looking at me with a pity that tells me she heard at least some of what happened yesterday. 

We start walking towards the school as I listen to another story from Onna about her siblings learning new things. It is mindless conversation which is all I need right now. At least it keeps me from thinking about how bad my sides are hurting or how in the hell I am going to manage doing PE. 

When I arrive at my first class, she is there. I almost forgot we have a lot of classes together on fridays and it makes my morning a little better. While I sit down next to Delly, Madge sits down next to Katniss. 

I don’t know how she does it but Madge is friends with almost everyone. Even with stoic and closed off Katniss. Normally Katniss doesn’t talk to anyone but Gale Hawthorne, who is in the same year as Rye. Madge told me that they know each other from the hunting they both do outside of the fence. 

Dad always buys from them on Sundays although he keeps telling mom that the meat that he puts in the stew is from the butcher. He tells her that he is trading a couple of pieces of bread with the butcher because she would be mad as hell if she knew he got them from two teenagers from the seam. 

Sometimes I wonder what goes on in dad’s mind. Going from being a kind and caring dad to someone who will do nothing about mom in a heartbeat. Sometimes I wonder what has to happen for him to truly change his mind and see that what mom is doing is wrong. Other times I think that he never will and that I just have to deal with that. 

“Mr Mellark?” I hear suddenly through my fog as I can feel Delly nudging my side. 

Everybody is looking at me including the teacher which makes me quite uncomfortable. He must have asked me something and I failed to respond or even hear what he wanted to know. 

“Sorry, sir. What was the question?” 

“Well, we were talking about the equation we use to determine the force we need to blast up a new coal line.” Mr Hensen says. “Do you know the answer to the equation on the board?” 

My eyes flicker over to the board, the equation is huge and if I had followed along I might have been able to solve it. But now it seems like a total mess of numbers and symbols. 

“I’m sorry, sir.” I mutter, knowing that it will take me a long time to solve it if at all. 

“I need you to pay attention, Mr Mellark.” Mr Hensen says. “You might be from town but you are the third boy in your generation. This will most likely be your future.” 

“I know, sir.” I mutter, before I return to silence.  

“I expect you to pay attention next time.” 

“I will, sir.” I mutter before I try to keep my thoughts at bay and listen to his explanation. I understand it quite well after he is done. It wasn’t that it was too hard, I was just too occupied with something else. 

The rest of the day goes by without much fuzz. My body hurts more and more and I start dreading the PE class at the end of the day and the training for wrestling after that. I have training two times a week but I’ve never been hurt enough that I wasn’t able to go, not until now. 

I don’t even go to the dressing room, instead going straight to Coach McGowen who is both the teacher and the voluntary trainer for wrestling. 

“Peeta, why aren’t you getting changed?” He immediately says as soon as he sees me. 

“I am not feeling well.” I lie. “I think I have some kind of stomach bug or something.” 

“You do look a bit pale.” He mutters. “Why don’t you sit out today and skip training? Maybe you’ll feel better after a little bit of rest this weekend.” 

“Thanks Coach.” I mutter, before I turn around and walk towards the bleachers in the corner.  

Crisis averted, for now.

Chapter Text

One by one my classmates enter the gym, most of them are town for some reason. I watch how Delly walks towards Coach, still dressed in her normal clothes before he sends her to sit next to me. 

She doesn’t say a word as she sits down. We both look at the PE lesson in front of us before she lets out a heavy sigh. 

“Bran can be loud.” She mutters, telling me that she heard at least a part of the conversation yesterday. 

“I know.” I reply. 

“You can be loud too.” 

I remain silent. Not sure what to answer. She heard me. She heard how much pain I was in even though I tried to keep it in. 

“What was it?” She softly asks, referring to the thing that mom hit me with. 

“Broom handle.” I whisper. 

“Why?” 

I close my eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply. 

“I didn’t know where she was and the Mayor was there to place an order. So I helped him in my dirty shirt. She thought that was inappropriate.” 

“Oh Peeta.” Delly mutters. 

“Don’t.” I mutter. “Feeling pity is not going to help anyone.” 

“What is?” 

“What is what?” I reply, staring at the ball that is going around the room. 

“What is going to help you?” 

“Nothing.” I mutter. 

“Bran seems to think differently.” 

“Bran is a fool who thinks that he can stop her now that he is older.” 

“Maybe he can. He turned eighteen just before the games, right? He aged out of the reaping, he is legally an adult now.” Delly tries. “Maybe he can do something. Maybe he can protect you.” 

“How in the world would he be able to do that?” I ask. “He might be an adult but he still lives at home. He still eats off their table. His whole future depends on that bakery or he might end up in the mines like me.” 

“Maybe he will get his own house and then you could live there with him.” 

“My brother? His own house?” I huff. “Him and what army? His secret boyfriend?” 

“What?” Delly asks, sounding surprised as I realize that I just told her my brother’s big secret. 

“Yeah, maybe you should forget I said that.” I mutter. “Bran will kill me.” 

“No, he won’t.” Delly replies. “It is none of my business so he won’t find out I know.” 

“Thanks.” I mutter. “I appreciate it.” 

Delly falls silent for a moment as we both watch how our classmates jog around the hall now, Coach drilling them to be better than they were yesterday. 

“Peeta, something needs to change.” 

“I know.” I reply. “I just don’t know how.” 

“Isn’t there anything we can do?” 

“Do exactly what you do now.” I mutter. “Be there for me and I think I will be fine.” 

“What if you are not? What if she hits you hard enough you are seriously injured?” 

“I hope she never does.” 

“But what if it happens?” Delly insists. 

“Then we will see what happens. I don’t think it will though.” 

“I hope you are right.” She mutters before we end our conversation. 

What follows are a couple of days of relative rest. I manage to do everything that mom says exactly as I should, being very careful to not make mistakes. No one talks about what happened and I am fine with that. My bruises are healing and receiving all of my meals sure makes a difference. 

Deep inside I know that this can’t last. I know that sooner or later it will get worse again. My mom’s good moods usually only last a couple of days before it turns sour again. And it will probably turn sour because of me. 

Saturdays are usually busy in the bakery and this one is no different. We get some new shipments on the train and it takes us the better part of the day to get it all into storage. Sunday is usually reserved for rearranging the storage room and preparing some doughs for the first few days of the week. Weekends are busy but we always get some time off to spend with friends. 

Bran almost immediately runs off to Silt while Rye takes his sweet time to run around the district to keep up with his training buddy’s for wrestling. I usually spend my time with Madge because Delly has to help her parents. 

We hang out on the hill, talking about silly things that do not really matter. I notice that Madge wants to talk about what happens at home but I am not in the mood so she lets it slide. 

When we walk back to the square we go around the back of the bakery. I notice the figure near the back door and my dad in the doorway. I immediately stop walking when I see her braid swing from side to side, hiding behind a tree and taking Madge with me. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Madge hisses. 

“It’s Katniss.” I mutter. 

“And?” 

“She can’t see me!” I hiss, looking at her from behind my tree. 

“Why not?” Madge asks, sounding surprised. 

“She just can’t!” 

“Peeta, you have a crush on a girl. She won’t murder you as soon as she sees you!” Madge tries. 

“Well, she can be pretty deadly according to my dad. I am not going to risk it.” I mutter as I watch Katniss walk away from my dad’s door. She still has the loaf of bread in her hands, sniffing it for the scent before she puts it away in her hunting bag. 

I breathe a sigh of relief when she turns towards the seam and disappears. 

“Peeta, this is ridiculous! You see her at school all the time!” 

“But I don’t have to talk to her at school! She just exists. If I see her here, I have to talk to her. And I am not sure I can.” 

Madge chuckles lightly. 

“Sometimes I think that you are this weird mixture between a toddler and a grown up. Or actually you are a grown up in everything but all that has to do with her.” She says. “It is a little adorable.” 

“Oh shut up.” I mutter, before I chuckle myself. I know I am nothing when it comes to her. Somehow I revert to some hopeless lamb that can do nothing but drool and be scared when she is near. 

I say goodbye to Madge before we agree to see each other before school monday morning. 

The rest of the night is silent. Almost like it is silent before a giant storm that I can’t comprehend. Everything seems too peaceful, too perfect. The peace won’t last, I know that, but I want it to. I want to feel this peace, this phase in which I don’t have to watch my every move. 

It helps that I am never truly alone with mom until Sunday afternoon. Either dad or Bran is with me which makes me less fragile and afraid of making mistakes because they are there to help me and correct me when something happens. I know that that won’t last though. They need to make deliveries and sooner or later I will be alone with her again. They both, especially dad, try to tell me that I can do it and that if I keep doing what I am doing, nothing can go wrong. The tension still rises though and it only gets worse when they leave. 

I try to stay in the dark. Do the things that dad told me to do and not make any mistakes. It helps that she is in the store and I am in the back room, but it still makes me shiver when I hear her talk to a customer. She is always so friendly and kind to them while she is so different in real life. 

When I put another plate of cheese buns into the oven, I triple check the temperature and settings to make sure I don’t make mistakes. I have to do this perfectly because there is no one to check these things for me. The cheese buns don’t go in the oven too long or they might burn so it is necessary to stay close. 

I am cleaning the counter when I hear a soft knock on the back door. It can’t be Bran or dad because they would just walk in. It makes me curious enough to leave the oven and walk towards the door, wiping my hands on my apron. 

When I open the door I freeze. Katniss is there, a fresh shot squirrel in her hands as she looks at me in surprise. 

“Hi.” I mutter sheepishly. 

“Hi.” She replies. “Is your dad home?” 

“No, he is out making a delivery.” I reply, feeling a little lost and awkward. “Is there anything I can do?” 

“Probably not.” She replies, leaning back and forth on her feet to give herself something to do. 

I stare at her, taking in every inch of her beautiful face now that she is so close. Her shiny olive skin and the dark single braid that cascades down one of her shoulders. Her gray eyes are deep and unreadable while she bites on the corner of her curved lip revealing a bright white set of teeth. The hint of a red blush can be seen on her cheeks but it is so light it is hardly noticeable if you weren’t paying attention. 

I try to imagine what it would be like to talk to her. To live next to her. To love her. A part of me can only imagine the weird dynamics of my parents' marriage. A marriage without true devotion and build on manipulation that my dad is too weak to fight. 

What would it be like to be together with someone that you truly love? Someone you can trust and want to care for? Someone that -

“So -” She mutters. “When will he be back?” 

“Uhm.” I reply, having her drag me from my day dream. “I think he will be back in an hour or two. Maybe you can try just before the bakery closes. He is usually here by then.” 

“Okay, I’ll come back then.” She mutters before she lingers for a few seconds and then turns around and walks away. 

I stare at her until she disappears out of my sight. When she is gone I feel like a fool. I could barely talk to her without stuttering and making a fool of myself. I am such a loser when it comes to her. Such a loser that she will probably never even see me as a person. 

I curse loudly before I turn around and walk back into the backroom. I immediately notice something is wrong when I breathe in and the penetrating smell of burned bread nestles in my nose. 

A panic starts within me making me sprint towards the oven and pull open the little door. The whole batch of cheese buns is sporting a tiny layer of very dark brown where there is supposed to be a crisp colored layer of cheese. I immediately know that these have to be thrown away as I think about the consequences that will have for both the merchandise and me. Mom will kill me if she finds out. 

As I take the burned buns from the oven, my head tries to come up with a plan. I still have time to make a new batch but it is an illusion that no one will notice. Mom will see that there are ingredients missing from the inventory and someone will notice the messed up pile of buns in the pigsty.  

It would solve the problem of not having merchandise though. 

I quickly decide to just do it and see if it will lessen the fall that I am bound to make. It is not like I do not know how to make them by heart. I grab all the ingredients from the warehouse before I start putting them together at top speed. Within thirty minutes there is a new batch baking in the oven.

I almost think I made it without mom finding out when she walks into the backroom. The burned rack of buns is still there and it doesn’t take her longer than a few seconds to see them and make the connection. 

The look on her face makes me shiver in fear and I immediately start to try and defend myself. 

“I’m sorry! It was an accident! Something at the back door distracted me and when I got back they were burned! I already made new ones!” I hastily try, but the look on her face doesn’t change. 

“Is there nothing you can do right?” Mom hisses, as she walks towards me. “Who is going to pay for these? Because I am not! I refuse to pay for your mistakes, you stupid brat!” 

The first hit in my face is one I can almost expect but it still feels like a surprise. She slaps me so hard, my head falls. She uses my hunched over form to hit me again which makes me fall to the ground. I am on my hands and knees when I hear her walk to the oven and open the little door. 

My whole body starts to tremble as I crawl away into the corner trying to hide myself from her and her wrath. She doesn’t falter though as the rage on her face is unmistakable. I start to cry when her hands wrap around the handle of the poker that is next to the oven and puts it into the flames. 

She looks so evil in the dim lighting of the fired up oven and the fact that she is heating up a poker doesn’t help. I have this awful feeling that she is going to use the poker against me and that scares the shit out of me. 

“Lose your shirt.” She mutters, not looking at me. 

“Mom, please!” I try, but she doesn’t budge. 

“Lose. Your. Shirt.” 

A sob escapes me when I pull the apron off and grab the hem of my shirt. Lifting it up and off, showing the dark colored bruises on my torso. 

“Get on your feet, hands against the counter.” 

“Mom, please, don’t do this!” 

“Shut up!” She hisses. “You did this, not me. Now, fucking do it!” 

With trembling legs I push myself up, until I can grab the counter and pull the rest of the way up. I try to brace myself for what is to come but there is no way that I am able to prepare myself for the absolute searing pain it will bring. 

When the first blow lands I shout out, not able to contain the force of the blow and the stinging pain of the burn that follows. With every blow she adds another burn to my already bruised back. The skin tingles both from the blow and the nerve endings that get, quite literally, fried. 

I don’t know how many times she hits me. All I know is that it hurts beyond anything I’ve ever felt. I try to hold on but it doesn’t take long for my legs to feel like jelly and give out. 

When they do I am no longer able to catch myself before I fall. My knees buckle and when the side of my head hits the countertop, I pass out. I am out like a light before my body hits the ground.

Chapter Text

I vaguely recall being carried around for a while, a fast pace and a voice telling me that everything will be okay. I vaguely recall being set down on a couch that does not smell like home. I vaguely recall a blanket being thrown over my shoulders as someone tells me to go to sleep. 

It is all vague though. Like I wasn’t really there to see it happen. Like my dark and blurry nightmares were my reality above what really happened. 

It is already dark out when I wake up to the smell of food. Someone must be cooking closeby and my senses are focused on it. Opening my eyes is hard as one of them is swollen shut. When I open my good eye I see nothing that I recognize and when I try to stretch my neck to look for something familiar, I hiss in pain. 

Someone drops everything he or she is holding in the kitchen before they walk my way. 

“Peet?” Bran asks, kneeling down on the floor beside me. When I open my eyes I can see the worried face of my oldest brother with the face of his boyfriend right behind it.

“Hi.” I mutter. “What happened?” 

“You don’t remember?” Bran asks. 

“I remember passing out. But I have no idea how I got here, wherever I am.” 

“You’re at Silt’s place and you are going to stay here for a while.” Bran replies. “I am not going to let you get back home until she changes.” 

“Why?” I ask. 

“Why?” Bran reacts, sounding agitated. “Because she crossed a line this time! Have you even seen yourself?” 

“No, I do feel it though.” I mutter. “What does it look like?” 

Bran sighs heavily. 

“The left side of your face so black that it hurts me to look at it. I am sure your eye is hurt as well but I can’t see because it is so swollen it won’t open.” 

“That wasn’t her doing though. I fell and I hit the concrete counter.” 

“But she is the reason why you fell.” Bran replies. “On top of the fact that she left you there and didn’t help you when you passed out.” 

“How do you know that she caused me to fall? It could have been an accident.” I reply, trying to protect her somehow even though I have no clue why. 

“Peet.” Bran sighs, looking at me with a sad expression on his face. “You weren’t wearing a shirt when I found you.” 

“What?” I ask, not wanting to admit to what is probably showing on my stinging back. 

“Peet, you don’t need to protect her. I know what she did. I saw the marks, the bruises and the burns. I saw all of them.” 

I realize instantly that there is no use in denying it. He knows that I didn’t do those things to myself. He knows that the only one capable of something like that was right there with me. 

“How bad is it?” I whisper. 

“Do you want the positive approach or the truth?” Bran asks. 

“That bad?” 

Bran nods his head. 

“We cleaned it while you were out but there were some parts of the burns that did not look good.” Silt replies. “I am a bit worried about some of them and if they get worse you will need some help.” 

“Don’t.” I mutter. “Mom will kill me if I let someone in on this. It is bad enough that you know.” 

“Mom did this herself, Peet. You suffered enough, I am not going to let you have more pain because she needs to hold up her reputation.” Bran replies. “Besides, you won’t be going home for a while.” 

“And what do you expect me to do then? Where am I supposed to go?” 

“You can stay here.” Silt replies. “I don’t have much, but there is enough to share.” 

“And I will try to get some more food from home to help him.” Bran ads, looking at his boyfriend with a look of love and gratitude. 

“What about school?” I ask. “I can’t miss school.” 

“Peet, you can’t go like this.” Bran replies. “You look like you were ran over by a truck. I will convince dad to call the school and tell them that you are sick until you are able to attend again. When you are ready you can go to school from here.” 

“What about my chores? You need my help in the bakery!” 

“Peeta! Stop!” Bran all but shouts. “The most important thing now is that you need to get better. You need to get better and away from that woman that calls herself our mother. I will make sure the bakery keeps running because I know how important that is to you, but mom and dad have to feel the consequences of what they did.” 

“Dad didn’t do anything.” I mutter. 

“Exactly.” Bran replies. “He could have done something so many times, and he never did. He is just as much at fault as mom is.” 

I sigh heavily before I attempt to roll my shoulders. Sending a wave of pain through my whole body which makes me hiss and close my eyes. Tears spring when I realize just how bad I am doing. I didn’t feel as bad when I didn’t move but now that I am moving it hurts like hell. 

“Babe, can you get him something to drink?” Bran asks as he grabs my hand in support. 

“Sure.” Silt mutters as he gets up. 

I can feel Bran next to me as a sob rips free from my throat. 

“It’s okay, Peet. Let it out.” 

I am not sure how long I cry but I feel better afterwards. It is late at night when Bran decides to go home. Silt tells him that he can stay but Bran is determined to go home and tell mom and dad what is going on. It feels weird to not go with him, but I know that it is better this way. 

Silt asks me if I want to sleep in his bed for comfort, telling me that he will take the couch but I assure him that I am fine as it is. He throws a blanket over me before he tells me he needs to go to sleep because he has to work in the morning.

Not long after he is gone, I fall asleep. Simply being too exhausted to stay awake. My night is filled with nightmares though and mom is in all of them. She torments me with the most horrible things to a point where she even pulls out every single one of my fingernails. In my dreamworld it feels highly logical that pulling out my fingernails results in stinging pain in my back because the pain in my back becomes worse and worse during the night. 

It eventually wakes me up in the early hours of the morning. Leaving me in a state of anguish in which even laying on my side hurts like hell. It feels like the world is burning around me and I can’t help but cry out loudly which causes Silt to wake up.

 He runs towards me with a panic in his eyes. 

“Peeta, talk to me!” Silt says but I am not able to talk. I am in too much pain to talk. “What’s wrong, Peeta?” 

“It hurts!” I scream out, not able to say more. 

“Breathe, Peeta. Breathe!” Silt mutters as I feel him move around the couch and take away the blanket. A short shit comes from his mouth before he rushes away. I am not sure what he is doing until I hear the door open and the sound of the water pump outside. I am not sure what he is trying to do but I hope he is trying to make the pain less. To make the pain stop. 

After a while the pump stops and I can hear Silt return. I quickly open my eyes to see that he is carrying a bucket full of water. He puts the bucket down right next to me before he moves to the kitchen and grabs some of the towels under the sink. He drops them in the water before he puts them, dripping wet, on my injured back. 

At first it feels like it sets everything on fire before the water gives me unimaginable relief. It gives me an opportunity to stop screaming and breathe deeply as Silt strokes my sweaty curls from my forehead. 

“I am going to run by Ruth in the morning on my way to the mines. She needs to check you out.” Silt mutters. 

“What?” I mutter, feeling dazed and out of it. 

“Ruth Everdeen.” Silt replies. “She is the best there is.” 

“No, you can’t. No one can know.” I mutter. 

“And I will tell her that, Peeta. But you aren’t doing well. Your wounds are getting infected and if we don’t do something you might get really sick.” Silt tries. “I will tell her that she can’t tell anyone, not even your parents if that makes you feel better. But she needs to see you.” 

“Please.” I mutter, knowing deep down that there is no arguing. If this pain gets any worse I am going to beg him to do something and Ruth might be my only option either way. 

“Peeta.” Silt sighs. “Your mom did this herself. It is not your job to protect her image. It is your job to get better and you will need some help with that.” 

“It’s not just her image though.” I reply, hissing slightly as some of the pain returns. “Everyone will think that I am a loser. That I can’t even handle my mom.” 

“No one will think that.” Silt replies. “They will all think what a horrible person your mother is.” 

“You sound awfully sure of that.” I mutter through grunts of pain. 

“Because I am sure of that.” Silt replies. “No one ever called the tributes weak, and they died at the hands of people the same size as them.” 

“That’s not the same.” I reply, before I almost curl up at another vicious sting through the whole of my back which makes Silt spring into action. He gently wets the towels again before he places them back on my back. 

He keeps doing that, while he tries to make me drink water, until he has to get ready for work. He eats a plain slice of bread that Bran must have brought for him, before he tells me to hold on and leaves. 

The next hour goes by in a haze. After only a few minutes I start to notice the pain getting worse. After about ten I desperately want someone to make the towels wet again. I desperately want someone to come and help me. 

Despite the fact that I am hurting I desperately need to go to the toilet. My bladder is screaming to be emptied and I don’t want to piss myself on Silt’s couch. So before I can really think about it I roll myself towards the edge of the couch before I let myself fall to the ground. 

I have to take a little break when the impact sends a flash of pain through my whole body. Moving my hands and knees hurts like hell but I don’t want to embarrass myself even further by pissing where I am. 

Slowly I crawl towards the bathroom, which is nothing more than a toilet and an old wash tub, before I manage to pull myself on the toilet. I struggle to get my pants down before I sigh a breath of relief when I empty my bladder. 

It has made me tired though. I can barely keep my eyes open as I lean my body against the wall next to the toilet. I don’t even think I realize it when I fall asleep right there. 

My sleep is dreamless, it is just one big empty void. It is a peaceful void though. A peaceful void in which nothing matters and nothing can hurt me. 

I wake up with a groan when I hear the sound of the door opening. 

“Hello?” A friendly female voice says from the living room. A voice that I don’t recognize, but also a voice that I can give to a person based on what Silt said that morning. Katniss’ mom is here. 

“Hello? Peeta?” She says again. “Where are you?” 

“Bathroom.” I reply, trying to be loud enough so she can hear. 

Apparently she can because I hear her footsteps walk towards me. She stops in front of the door, knocking a few times. 

“Peeta? Do you mind if I come in?” 

“I guess not.” I mutter, realizing full well that I am naked from the waist down. Right now I need help though. I don’t think I have enough energy to get back to the couch on my own. 

The door opens slowly as a pair of blue town eyes look into mine. Katniss looks nothing like her mother, she is her father in every way. It sort of helps that I don’t see Katniss though, because that would probably embarrass the hell out of me. 

“Do you need help getting up?” Ruth asks with a kind voice. “And you don’t have to be embarrassed, Peeta. I’ve seen enough naked men to last a lifetime.” 

“I kind of do need help, yes.” I mutter, looking at my feet while my cheeks turn slightly red. 

Ruth doesn’t hesitate before she steps into the bathroom and puts her hands under my armpits. 

“On the count of three.” She mutters before she starts counting and lifts me up. I quickly grab my pants to hoist them up while Ruth makes sure I don’t fall. 

“Now, we are going to walk back to the couch very slowly. If we are going to fast at any point you have to let me know. Alright?” 

I nod my head slightly before we start walking. She encourages me on the way until we reach the couch and she tells me to lay down on my stomach so she can look. I don’t even question why she knows what is wrong with me or where to look. I just follow her instructions without complaining. 

Once I am on my stomach she looks at my back. I hear her sharp inhale when she sees it. 

“Oh Peeta.” She mutters before her fingers gently probe at the wounds on my back. 

“That bad?” I ask. 

“Well, I’ve seen worse, but those were miners who barely escaped an explosion.” 

“So it is bad.” I state at which she does not answer. Instead she starts working. 

I hiss slightly when she touches the wounds until I feel the incredible relief of the ointment she puts on it. It somehow cools the skin and brings a feeling of peace to my whole body. 

“Thank you.” I mutter, my whole body able to relax for the first time in what feels like days. 

“You’re welcome.” Ruth replies, before she sighs heavily. “Can you talk to me, Peeta? Silt said you didn’t want me to know what happened, but something like this doesn’t just happen. This looks like it was deliberate.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I mutter. “No one needs to know.” 

“I get that, but maybe someone should. They really hurt you. If they had hit you wrong they could have made you seriously ill. Right now you have multiple infections in the wounds but they are all in a relatively safe spot. That could have been different if the blows had landed somewhere else.” 

“Well, then I am glad they didn’t.” I reply.

“Peeta, I am serious.” She says, remaining kind and caring. “Why are you protecting the person who did this?” 

“I have my reasons.” 

She sighs heavily before I hear her get up. 

“Okay. I need to go. Prim will be home from school in half an hour. I’ll leave the concoction. Silt can put it on your back before you go to sleep tonight and then again in the morning. That should bring down the redness and the pain. If it doesn’t then Silt needs to tell me and I will find something else to try.” 

“Thank you.” I mutter. “I’ll ask Bran if he can get you some bread. It won’t be fresh, but I hope you don’t mind.” 

“I would appreciate that, but you need to focus on getting better first.” Ruth replies. “And think about what I said. Someone needs to know.” 

I don’t say another word as she leaves, closing the door behind her while I finally drift off into a peaceful sleep.

Chapter Text

I wake up to the sounds and the smells of food being prepared. When I open my eyes and look towards the kitchen I can see Silt in front of the stove. He is wearing a dirty wife beater and there is coal dust slathered on his neck. 

When I sit up, a small groan escapes me. It immediately draws Silt’s attention, making him look over his shoulder to see me. 

“You look better than you did.” He tells me with a big smile on his face. 

“I feel better.” I reply. “I am able to sit up on my own, which I wasn’t able to do before.” 

“I told you that Ruth could help.” He smirks. 

“Yeah, fine.” I mutter. “You win.” 

“It isn’t about winning, Peeta. I am just glad you are doing better.” 

“I know.” I reply, looking at him at an odd angle. “Have you spoken to Bran today?” 

“Just briefly, but yes.” He replies. 

“Did he tell you anything about home? About mom and dad?” 

Silt sighs heavily before he turns around to face the stove again. 

“You sure you want to know what he told me?” 

“Kind of.” I reply, feeling my heart sink at his reaction. 

“Well, according to Bran, your dad did ask how you were doing. Bran told me that he wasn’t sure if he realized how serious it was, but at least he was interested. He did stop asking though as soon as he was satisfied.” Silt replies. “Your mom, and I want to punch her for this, only asked when you would be able to return to your chores. Telling him that the bakery was losing money because you weren’t there.” 

“Oh.” I reply. 

“Yeah.” Silt sighs. “They are definitely not winning the parents of the year award.” 

“They are my parents though. The bakery is my home.” I tell him, feeling an ache for the thing I love. “I need to go back.” 

“You don’t need to do anything and you are not going anywhere until you are better.” Silt says, turning around to face me. His face radiates anger which makes me feel oddly important. “They only want you back because you can do their chores. Let them suffer for what they did. They deserve it.” 

“But when I am be-” I start until Silt interrupts me. 

“We’ll see what happens when we reach that point. For now you are staying here.” 

It feels oddly final when he says it like that. He is basically forcing me to stay here but I know that it is because he cares. He cares for me and that is more than my parents have ever done. 

We return to a comfortable silence as he finishes dinner. He gives me a small plate as he apologizes for not being able to offer me more. I thank him for what he is able to do, not telling him that I am used to getting less out of fear that he might get even more angry at mom. 

I offer to help him clean up but he tells me to remain seated and relax, telling me that I need rest to get better. So instead I watch him move around the kitchen, using water from the pump outside to clean the dishes before he puts it all away by the scarce light of a single candle. 

The tension in my bladder grows steadily until I can no longer hide the fact that I have to pee. 

“Silt?” I ask softly. 

“Yeah?” He replies, looking at me from the corner of the room where he is cleaning his work gear. 

“I need to pee.” I mutter. “Can you help?” 

“Sure.” Silt replies, getting up and wiping his hands on the old rag that is next to him. 

His strong hands lodge under my armpits before he counts to three and lifts me up. When I am finally on my feet I suddenly feel how weak I still am. Being able to sit might have made me feel better, but I am still just as fragile and weak as I was this morning. 

Slowly we shuffle towards the bathroom. Step by step we get closer until I am standing in front of the toilet, holding on to Silt’s shoulders for dear life. 

“Would it be okay if I opened your pants for you?” Silt softly asks.

I debate it for a second. I don’t want him to see me naked but I also realize that there isn’t really another option. If I want to remain standing, I have to keep holding on to his shoulders. But if I want to pee I have to lower my pants. 

I quickly nod my head before I close my eyes as I feel his hands reach for the button of my jeans. Before he takes the waistband and pulls it down gently. 

“Go sit down.” He tells me, which I do. 

“I’m sorry.” I mutter. 

“What for?” 

“You are just trying to help and I am being awkward.” I mutter. “You don’t deserve that.” 

“Awkward because?” Silt asks. 

“Well, I am naked and you’re gay.” I mutter. 

“Right.” Silt replies with a cheeky smile. “I get that, I do. But I am not offended by it.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because you are a teenaged boy, Peeta. Of course it is awkward to be naked in front of someone you don’t know all that well. I don’t think it even matters if it is a woman or a man. Straight or gay.” 

Silt looks at me with this gentle smile on his face that tells me that he really doesn’t feel offended. Telling me that he is telling me every part of the truth. 

“What is it like? To be gay in a place like this?” I ask him out of the blue. 

“It’s - different. I guess.” Silt replies. “I know that I am not the only one, but not a lot of them are openly gay.” 

“Are you?” 

“Not really. Or not as much as I would like.” Silt replies. “My friends know and my parents. But they kicked me out as soon as they could because they didn’t want anything to do with me anymore.” 

“Why?” 

Silt chuckles awkwardly. 

“Did Bran tell you anything about my family?” 

“No.” I reply. “He didn’t even want to admit that you were his boyfriend. I discovered that myself.” 

“Right.” Silt smiles. “Well, my family is as traditional as they come. We’ve been pure seam for generations and we are a big family. I am the only boy in a line of five girls.” 

“That is a lot.” I reply. 

“Yeah, it is.” Silt says, a sadness coming over his face. “I used to have one older brother, Ash. He was the oldest, the first born son. He used to take care of the family by taking on a lot of tesserae. So much of it that he got reaped in his last year. I was fifteen when it happened. He even managed to hold out some time, he was strong, but by the time the Career pack started hunting, he was a goner. He died on the third day.” 

“I’m sorry.” I mutter. “I didn’t know.” 

“It’s okay.” Silt replies. “It is not something I like to talk about. Actually, it is something most people want to forget about as soon as it is done. It did cause me to become the only male heir though and a male heir is supposed to keep the family name alive.”

“That is why they kicked you out.” 

“Exactly.” Silt says. “I told them I was gay and they didn’t want anything to do with me anymore because it would ruin their reputation and the future of their family name. I stayed with them for another few months before I could not stand the cold they were giving me. That is why I moved in here, I haven’t talked to them since.” 

“That must be hard.” I reply. 

“It is. But I imagine you have your own issues with not being loved by your parents.” 

“I do. But I at least have Bran. He still cares.” 

“I know he does.” Silt says with a caring smile. “He always talks about you with such worry. He loves you.” 

“He loves you too.” I reply. “He told me once that he can really be himself when he is with you.” 

“I get that.” Silt mutters. “Being gay is quite taboo in Twelve. There is no place we can really be ourselves unless we are together. I don’t have to hide myself when I am with Bran. Just like he does not have to hide himself from me. We understand each other while most of the people don’t.” 

“How did you find out about Bran?” 

“How did I find out what? That he is gay?” 

I nod my head as a reply. 

“I am not really sure. We have been friends for quite a while and he was one of the first people I trusted with my secret. He was very understanding, unlike many others, and we only grew closer after that. Until one day when we were hanging out behind the dirt hill. He looked at me in a way that made me want to kiss him, so I did. He pulled back immediately out of shock and I started apologizing, but before I could get the words out of my mouth he kissed me back. One thing let to another, and now we are here.” 

“I don’t think that Bran is as confident with it as you are though.” 

“Bran is scared.” Silt replies. “And rightfully so considering what your mom does when she gets angry. He knows there is this huge amount of pressure on his shoulders to keep his parents' reputation high. To keep this family bakery clean and without scrutiny. He also knows that he will be expected to marry Elory, his parents have basically told him that without officially arranging it.” 

“How can he marry Elory when he loves you?” I ask. 

“He can’t.” Silt replies. “But he hasn’t figured out how to make it work yet. He has to choose someday between who he truly is and what your parents want him to be. But he is not ready to make the choice yet.” 

“Elory knows though. She knows that he spends time with you when he should be helping her with her schoolwork.” 

“She does and she is the most awesome person for not telling anyone about it.” Silt tells me. “But covering up your future husband's affair with another man when you are not officially dating is something else than doing it while you are. Elory is a kind and understanding woman, he couldn’t have been dealt a better hand, but she also deserves love and a husband who cares. We are all very aware of that.” 

“I never looked at Elory like that.” I mutter. 

“Elory is very reserved and polite in public. But she is a wonderful woman when you get to know her.” Silt says. “Now enough talking about me. Let’s get you back to the couch so I can ask you a couple of questions for a change.” 

Silt helps me up and helps me do up my pants before he holds me steady while we hobble back to the couch. He sits me down as he walks into the kitchen and gets to steaming mugs of watery tea, handing me one before he puts his on the table and sits down next to me. 

“I have a couple of questions too. Willing to answer them?” Silt asks. 

“I’ll try.” 

“That is all I can ask.” Silt replies. “And I would totally understand if you don’t want to answer them.” 

“Are they about Bran?” I ask. 

“No.” Silt replies, looking at me. “They are about you.” 

“Why?” 

“Why what?” 

“Why are you interested in me?” I ask, looking at the chip in the tea cup in my hands. 

“Because you are interesting.” Silt replies. “Because I want to know about your hopes and dreams. I want to know what makes you, you.” 

“I am not interesting.” I reply. “Or at least no one ever said so.” 

“There is a first time for everything.” Silt says. “Everyone deserves to be valued.” 

A weird feeling of warmth pulses through my veins. No one has ever really valued me. Or at least not the people that are supposed to do that. Mom always tells me that I am a waste of space and dad doesn’t even bother to correct her. 

“What do you want to know?” I ask him, taking a small sip of my tea. 

“Well, I know your name is Peeta, that you are a baker’s son and that you are fifteen. But that is about it.” Silt replies. “What do you like to do when you have your time off.” 

“We don’t have a lot of that.” I reply. “We help mom and dad a lot with the bakery.” 

“I know.” Silt replies. “Some days it is hard to even get in contact with your brother, let alone see him.” 

“Is that why he wasn’t here today?” 

“Probably.” Silt says. “I am sure he would have tried to come see you if he was able.” 

“I draw.” I mutter. “I have this one sketchbook that dad got me to practice designing the cakes but I use it for other drawings too.” 

“What do you draw?” 

I can feel my cheeks light up in shame. If only he knew. 

“It’s quite embarrassing really.” I mutter. 

“Try me. I have been in enough embarrassing conversations to handle yours.” 

“There is this girl in my class that I’ve had a crush on for years.” I mutter. “She is Seam though and I honestly think she never even noticed my existence. But that is who I draw. Her in class. Her in streets. Her with her dad when he was still alive.” 

“A seam girl? Do I know her?” 

“Probably.” I mutter. “I think everyone knows her in some way.” 

“Everyone knows everyone around here, so.” Silt replies. “Want to tell me her name?” 

“It’s Katniss. Katniss Everdeen.” 

Silt whistles softly before he takes a sip. 

“I am not into women but I do get why you would be interested in her.” 

“Well, it doesn’t really matter because she doesn’t see me at all.” I reply. “Besides she is from the seam. Mom might hate me now but if she finds out I fancy a seam girl she will kill me.” 

“Your mom really hates the seam, doesn’t she?”

“With a vengeance. She never told me why though.” I tell him. “She hasn’t liked them for as long as I can remember.” 

Silt takes another sip, his eyes focused on me. 

“How long has that been going on?” 

“What?” I ask. 

“Your mom hitting you.” Silt says. “Bran doesn’t talk about it.” 

“Well, it started with Bran when he was younger.” I mutter, looking straight ahead. “She has never liked us making mistakes. So when Bran started helping in the bakery, he would get a slap on the back of the head when he would make a mistake. It started pretty calm but it got worse over time. She started slapping him more, whipping him with her belt if she felt she needed to, until he learned his lesson. Bran became less clumsy and she slapped him less and less until she stopped completely and moved over to Rye.” 

“How old was Bran when that happened?” 

“He was ten when he started working in the bakery, she stopped just before he turned twelve. Rye had turned ten by then and he started working so she had a new target.” I tell him. “Rye was a fast learner though. He never made many mistakes and the ones he made he corrected quickly. I think he only received the brunt of her anger for a few months before she was satisfied. That is when she moved over to me.” 

“How old were you by then?” 

“Eight.” I mutter. “I wasn’t even working in the bakery when her gaze focused on me. I hadn’t even started when she started targeting me for leaving my plate out or not finishing my glass of water and she hasn’t stopped since. I guess there is no one to move on to since I am the youngest. Since I am the son she never wanted.” 

“It also isn’t just a simple slap up the head anymore.” Silt states. “The evidence of something more is right there on your back.” 

“I know.” I mutter, not elaborating further. 

Silt sighs heavily. 

“I am so sorry that she is treating you like that. You don’t deserve that, no one does.” 

“Thank you.” I mutter. 

Silt puts down his cup on the table before he pushes off from the couch.

“Well, I have a proposal. You can say no, but I figured I would ask you.” Silt says, which makes me perk up at attention. “I have a pretty large bed which is more comfortable than the couch. You could sleep with me in the bed if you would like, you can wake me up if there is anything you need but you’ll be a lot more comfortable than on the couch.” 

“Are you sure?” I ask, looking forward to feeling a comfortable mattress underneath my hurting body. 

“I wouldn’t ask it if I wasn’t.” Silt replies. “There is more than enough room to share.” 

“Then yes, I would like to sleep in a bed.” I reply, smiling lightly. 

“Excellent.” Silt replies before he helps me up and leads me to the bedroom.

Chapter Text

The comfort I feel with the soft mattress and the warm blankets pulls me into a deep state of sleep which allows my brain to open up. My dreams start calmly and peacefully. I am sitting in the meadow near the fence, my sketchbook in my lap. I am drawing the beautiful sea of flowers in front of me, deliberately leaving the fence out of the drawing to not be reminded of the fact that we are locked inside. 

I am just drawing another flower when a beautiful butterfly lands on my hand. It flaps its wings a few times before a terrible sting radiates through my whole hand. For a moment I wonder where it comes from until I see that the butterfly has his tiny teeth longed in the back of my hand. Before I can react I feel another sting on my other hand and another in my neck. 

In a matter of seconds I am swarmed by these kind looking butterflies as they are hurting me. The air around me slowly turns dark as the fence suddenly lights on fire. I hear my moms voice behind me but I am unable to see her. 

“Just what you deserve for ruining my life.” Mom hisses. “Just what you deserve for making my life a living hell!” 

I hear the whistle of her belt before I feel the sting on my back, but when I do I start to scream. I scream and I trash but there is no way for me to get away from the pain. It gets worse when I feel a pair of strong arms wrap around me, like they want to hold me down to make it hurt even more.

“Calm down, Peeta! You are safe. Calm down!” I hear Silt vaguely say in the back of my mind. 

It takes me a while to realize I am in a very vivid nightmare and that Silt is in fact trying to wake me up. When I am finally able to stop trashing, the tears are streaming down my face and my shoulders are shaking. 

“It’s okay, Peeta. You are safe here. No one is going to hurt you.” Silt mutters, holding me close to his chest, my back pressed against his front. 

I try to breathe as I soak in his warmth. It feels oddly calming to have him hold me, to have him care about how I feel. I don’t even think about it when I turn around and snuggle myself into his arms. 

I press my ear to his chest, having his steady heartbeat calm me down. 

We remain silent for a while as Silt softly strokes my hair with his hands. I am sure that he would have stroked my back in a comforting manner if that wasn’t the spot that has been injured. 

“Are you okay?” Silt asks softly after a while. 

“Yeah.” I mutter. “Just a nightmare. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” Silt replies. “Nightmares are not something you can control.” 

“I know. I have them all the time. Just not this loud.” I reply. “I think Rye and Bran would deem me an even bigger loser if I woke up screaming like that.” 

“They wouldn’t, or at least Bran wouldn’t.” Silt says. “Why do you think it is different here?” 

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe your body knows you are safe here, that no one will hurt you if they hear you scream.” Silt mutters as I can feel his warm breath on my scalp. 

“Maybe.” I mutter. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.” 

“No reason to.” Silt replies, jawning heavily. “Not your fault.” 

I remain silent after that. Enjoying the warmth of his arms around me, the heat of his chest and the feeling of comfort and caring that he gives me. 

“Are you okay with this?” Silt asks, sounding sleepy. “With me holding you like this?” 

“I guess.” I reply. 

“Good.” He mutters, before he falls asleep and starts to snore softly only a few minutes later. 

It doesn’t take long before the beating of his heart makes me fall asleep too. 

It is early in the morning when the alarm clock goes off. Silt turns around to turn it off which makes me whine because of the cold. 

“Why so early?” I mutter. 

“Because.” Silt replies, sitting up on the side of the bed. “I decided to take a couple of early shifts so I could be with you in the afternoon.” 

I open my eyes slowly to look at his face. 

“Why?” 

“Because no one else will be with you here. I don’t want you to be alone all day.”

“You don’t have to.” I reply. 

"Too bad." He mutters, a small smile on his face. “I already arranged it for the next two weeks.” 

“Two weeks?” I ask in disbelief. “Don’t you think I will be home again by then?” 

“Maybe. Maybe not. We’ll see.” He replies. “Now go back to sleep. I’ll see you later.” 

I do as he tells me and it doesn’t take long before I fall back asleep. I don’t wake up until I hear a knock on the door and the sound of a voice calling my name. 

“Peeta?” Bran asks.”Where are you?” 

I turn around to face the door, before I try to get up without injuring myself any more. My back feels better than it has in days although I am still stiff, especially coming out of bed. I get to my feet, grabbing a shirt that Silt leant me and putting it on, before I reach for the doorhandle to the living room. 

Bran is in the middle of the room when I open it. He is wearing his baker’s whites and he has two loafs of bread in his hands. When he hears me he looks up, a sign of relief on his face. 

“I was making a delivery and decided to check in on you. How are you doing?” Bran asks. 

“Better, I guess.” I mutter. “Silt asked Ruth Everdeen to help me.”

“He did?” Bran replies, sounding unsure of himself. 

“Hmm.” I mutter. “How are things at home?” 

“Awkward, to say the least.” Bran replies. “Dad asked about how you were doing at dinner last night but mom told him she didn’t want to even hear about you.” 

“Right.” I reply, feeling a little lost. 

“She’ll come around eventually. She always has.” 

“I know.” I mutter, feeling a little awkward to discuss the clear lack of love my mom has for me. 

“Did you have breakfast already?” Bran asks as he walks towards the kitchen. 

“No, you just woke me up.” I mutter, following him towards the kitchen table. 

I watch how he grabs a knife and slices a piece of bread before he hands it to me. I grab it and start eating immediately, only now realizing how hungry I really am. 

He watches as I eat the bread, slicing off another piece when I finish the first. He must be glad that I am eating again. He must realize that I haven’t eaten a lot since mom hit me and it wasn’t like the days before that were filled with much food. 

“What were you doing in the bedroom?” Bran asks as he sits down in the chair opposite mine. 

“Sleeping.” I mutter. 

“Silt gave you his bed?” 

“No.” I reply. “We shared his bed.” 

The look on Bran’s face is unreadable, almost like he doesn’t understand what I am telling him. 

“Why?” He asks after a while. 

“Because it is more comfortable than the couch?” I tell him. “He offered and I accepted. It would be easier for him to help me if I needed anything during the night.” 

“Right.” Bran mutters. “That makes sense.” 

“Then why are you being weird about it?” I ask him, looking straight at him. 

“I am not.” Bran replies. “I trust him and I trust you.” 

“What do we need your trust for?” 

“Nothing.” Bran mutters. 

There is an awkward silence between us after that as I finish eating my piece of bread and he watches me. 

“We got another order for a cake for Cray.” Bran tells me after a while. “Dad is doing the best he can with designing something, but his drawings don’t look anything like yours. I think mom is scared shitless that the cake will be below her standards.” 

“Maybe I can think of something.” I mutter. “I will need my sketchbook, though.” 

“No Peeta, let them figure it out themselves. Mom caused this, she can try to fix it without your help.” Bran replies. 

“Can you still get me my sketchbook though?” I ask him. “Both the one that dad has and the one under my pillow.” 

“I’ll try.” Bran replies. 

“Thank you.” I reply, before the awkwardness returns. 

It is almost like we suddenly have nothing to talk about. Usually we talk about the bakery or about mom and dad, but now both subjects are a sore spot and talking about them doesn’t make it better. 

“Don’t you have to work?” I eventually ask when the silence becomes too loaded. 

“Yeah.” Bran mutters before he gets up. “I’ll leave the bread here and I’ll try to come by tonight. If not, I’ll visit tomorrow.” 

“I’ll survive.” I reply. 

“I know you will.” Bran says with a small smile before he turns around and walks out the door, leaving me to fend for myself. 

I stay at the table for a little while before I find the courage to go to the bathroom. It is way easier to get around than it was yesterday even though I am still slow and stiff. At least I am able to walk around, something that I needed help with yesterday. Whatever Mrs Everdeen put on my back, it is a miracle cream. 

When I get back from the bathroom I walk to the bedroom, open the closet and grab one of Silt’s sweaters. When I drag it over my head, my eye falls on a little cardboard box hidden behind a long coat. When I put the coat to the side the letters on the front become visible until they spell the name Ash. 

I know that I probably shouldn’t look because it is rude. I am a guest in his house, I have no right to go through his things. But knowing that the box carries the name of his brother that died in the games sparks an intense amount of interest in me. 

Besides, Silt won’t be home for hours. I can look without him knowing. 

I gently get to my knees, hissing slightly as the wounds on my back get agitated. The box is heavy and filled to the brim as I place it on the floor next to the bed and sit down next to it. I am overwhelmed by the amount of papers and pictures as soon as I take the lid off. 

There is a letter on top that bears the official Hunger Games seal and when I open it I can see that it is the official confirmation of Ash’s death. Silt must have brought it with him from his parents house because it is addressed to Mr. and Mrs. McGee, Silt’s parents. Underneath the envelope there is his Tribute picture, the boy in it tries to smile at the camera but the fear of what lies ahead overshadows everything. 

Underneath the official letter and picture there are a couple more pictures. Pictures from a happier time. There is a family picture of all the children in front of a run down Seam house. They are lined up from biggest to smallest. Ash is on the far left while Silt is in the middle. A bunch of girls that all look alike surrounding them. Ash can’t be older than ten in the picture while Silt is around 6 or 7. 

Next is a picture of Ash and Silt together in which they are both a little older. Ash is sitting on the porch of the house as Silt sits in his lap. On the back of the picture there is a note. 

Asheville (12) and Silter (9)

The picture is from the first year that Ash was eligible to be reaped and probably the first year he took out tesserae for every member of his family. They look kind of happy together as Ash points at something on the ground and Silt listens to his story. 

There is a series of pictures that follows. Each one in exactly the same setting. Ash on the porch and Silt in his lap. Both boys grow older in every picture. Silt turns into a boy while Ash turns into a man. His shoulders get broader every year.  

When I put the pictures in a chronological line, there is something else that catches my attention. 

While Ash keeps smiling in all of them, Silt doesn’t. In the picture that tells me he is thirteen his smile is gone. It even looks like he is uncomfortable to be in Ash’s lap while Ash doesn’t seem to mind. His arms are tightly wrapped around Silt’s waist while Silt’s shoulders are tense. 

For a moment I think that he might just have had an off day, but when I look at the picture from the following year, the last picture before Ash’s reaping, the smile doesn’t return. In fact the look in Silt’s eyes is even more disturbing, it is almost dead. Like there is no feeling behind his eyes. Ash’s hands are wrapped around his waist again as Silt’s fingers are tightly clinging to Ash’s wrists. Almost like he wants him to stop holding him. 

I try to get the pictures out of my head as I search the remaining contents of the box. On the bottom of it, between all kinds of toys and school utensils that must have belonged to the older boy, I find a sketchbook. 

On the first page of the book there is a drawing of a boy that looks a lot like Ash. There is a gaping hole in his neck with an ax sticking out and I suddenly realize that this must be how he died. Hunted down by the career pack and murdered in cold blood. 

It makes me slightly nauseous to look at it and realize that these must be Silt’s drawings. None of this could have been made by Ash. 

When I flip the page I am greeted by another image of the same boy and it takes me a moment to realize there is a difference. The ax wound isn’t in his neck this time but it is lower, at the height of his crotch. On another page I find the same drawing but this time with both the hands cut off. 

More disturbing images follow. Some depict the dying boy while others depict peacekeepers with drawn guns. Peacekeepers arresting a boy that resembles Ash. Peacekeepers shooting a boy that resembles Ash. 

Suddenly the murder and the gore stops and makes way for highly realistic images of genitals. Male genitals to be specific. 

I just want to flip another page when I hear the sound of the front door. It makes me spring into action immediately, putting all of the things I found back in the box before putting it back into the closet. I just manage to lay down on the bed and pretend I have been there for a while when Silt comes in. 

“Hey.” He mutters, leaning against the doorframe. “How are you doing?” 

“Better.” I reply. “Bran was here.” 

“He was?” Silt asks, sitting down on the bed beside me. 

“Yeah, he brought some bread and wanted to know how I was doing.” I reply. “He also told me that mom does not want to talk about me.” 

“God, that woman does not deserve to call herself your mother. You are too good for her.” 

“I am not.” I mutter, blushing slightly at his compliment. 

“Do you ever believe anyone who tells you that you are not worthless?” Silt asks, smiling at me. 

“No.” I reply. 

“Of course not.” Silt mutters. “Do you feel like you are up for a walk?” 

“A walk?” 

“Yeah, fresh air is good for you.” Silt replies. “And I still need to get stuff for dinner.” 

“Stuff for dinner.” I mutter. “That means going to the square.” 

“It does.” Silt replies. 

“I - I am not sure -” 

“No one is going to hurt you, Peeta.” Silt says. “You can wear the hoodie if you do not want to be recognized by I think it might be a good thing for you to get some fresh air.” 

I debate it for another second before I nod my head. 

“Okay. Yeah, let’s go for a walk.”

Chapter Text

My hands are lodged deeply in the pockets of the hoodie while the hood hides my face from curious bystanders. It also hides the half of my face that is still black and blue from me hitting the counter at full speed when I fell down. 

As soon as we step in to the streets I start to regret agreeing to this. What if anyone sees me? What if I have to explain where I have been? I don’t think I want to explain to anyone why I haven’t been in school or why I haven’t been at home. 

Silt keeps reminding me that the fresh air is good for me or at least to a degree because the air in Twelve is never truly fresh. Especially not in the seam. It gets clearer when you reach the square but it is nowhere truly fresh and clean. There is always the foul smell of the mines and the explosives the miners use to open up new coal lines. 

We first walk along the edge of the district. The fence in sight with the fresh and unharmed wild areas behind it. Areas that most of us never even dare to visit. And with most I mean everyone except a brave few. Including her. 

We follow the path in silence. Almost like Silt wants me to adjust to being outside before I run back to his place screaming my head off. We are close to the square when the school bell starts to ring, alerting me to the stream of kids that will try to find their way home and feeling an instant panic over being seen. I can’t be seen. I just can’t. 

Silt immediately notices my panic, grabbing my hand and dragging me behind the slag heap. Normally it is a place where young couples feel each other up, but this time of day it is quiet and hidden. Silt makes me sit down on the ground, pushing my head down between my legs and ordering me to breathe. 

“It’s okay, Peeta. Just calm down.” Silt says as the sounds of students walking by fills the air around us. “We will just wait here until you feel calm enough to continue.” 

“God, I am a loser.” I mutter. 

“You are not a loser. You are just overwhelmed and you have this strong desire to not be seen. And considering how you look, I get that.”  Silt replies. “I should have thought about the fact that the school would be done around this time. I shouldn’t have triggered you like this.” 

“You didn’t know this would trigger it.” I mutter, feeling a little calmer. “I think I dare to try and walk again.” 

“You sure?” Silt asks, at which I nod my head. 

“Yeah, can’t stay here forever.” 

Silt nods his head before he reaches out his hand and helps me to my feet. I take a deep breathe before I hide my hands again and walk out into the open. 

Almost all the students are already gone, only a few of them are still there. Mostly they are older students from town, stealing a little bit of time before they are wanted at home. 

I freeze in the middle of the street when one of them calls my name. 

“Peeta?” Rye asks, stepping out of his little group of friends to talk to me. 

My first instinct is to turn around and walk away, but another part of me tells me that this is my brother. That I can’t keep ignoring him just because I am scared. 

“Hey Rye.” I mutter, hiding my face further in the hoodie. 

“Where have you been? Bran told me you were staying somewhere else because of mom but he wouldn’t tell me where or why exactly.” 

It amazes me that Rye even sounds concerned. Normally he just dismisses my bruises and tells me to go on. Usually he doesn’t really care. 

“I am staying with one of Bran’s friends.” I mutter. 

Rye looks at Silt with his head slightly ajar. Almost like he is trying to decide how Bran and Silt know each other, before he reaches out his hand to Silt to introduce himself. 

“Rye Mellark.”  He says. “Peeta’s older brother.” 

“Silt McGee.” Silt mutters, reaching out his hand as well. 

“McGee, as in?”  Rye asks, which makes a sad smile appear around Silt’s face. 

“Sadly, yes.”  

“That sucks.”  Rye says, before he turns his attention back to me. “When are you coming home?” 

For a moment I don’t know what to say. A part of me wants to go home because that is where I belong but another part of me likes staying with Silt. It likes being valued and asked it’s opinion instead of being treated like dirt. 

“He will come home when he is ready.” Silt says, answering the question in my name. “And when your mom decides to act like a parent instead of a slave owner.” 

Rye’s face immediately turns sour at those words. His eyes refocus on me carrying this deadly glare that could kill me if he tried. 

“He knows.” Rye hisses. “Why the fuck does he know?” 

“Because your brother found him more dead than alive last Sunday and determined he was no longer safe at your place!” 

“That does not give him the right to fucking talk about it!” Rye hisses. 

“It gives him every right! Did you even see-“ Silt says, defending me before I stop him by putting my hand on his arm. He looks at me in surprise when I shake my head at him. 

“You don’t have to defend me.” I mutter. “It was my own fault after all.” 

“Peeta, it wasn’t!” Silt tries but I ignore him. 

“Can’t we just go?” 

Silt sighs heavily before he nods his head and starts walking. I look at Rye for a second longer, still seeing the angry look in his eyes. 

“Get your story straight, brother. Or she will never want you back.”  

“I know.” I mutter, turning around and walking away. 

I only get in a few paces before my eyes fall on Madge who was just a few feet away from us and must have heard everything. I can see the sorrow in her eyes when she looks at me. She wants to say something but the words remain stuck in her throat as the pain fills her face. When I pass her I have to look away, feeling too much pain in my heart to face her. 

Silt and I return to a state of silence as we slowly walk towards the square. I hide in the shadows of a tree while Silt gets what he needs before we quickly exit the square on the other side. Avoiding the bakery at all costs. 

I silently follow Silt when he enters a path that I’ve never entered before, leading us into a different part of the seam than he lives in. Through a maze of back alleys we arrive at a path with a lot of narrow houses that are in desperate need of repairs. We walk about halfway down the road before he stops in front of a house and knocks on the door. 

A small girl with two blond braids opens the door. A girl that I immediately recognise as Primrose Everdeen, Katniss’ sister. It startles me for a moment until she smiles at Silt in such a way that she doesn’t remind me of her older sister at all. 

“Silt! How are you?” 

“I am doing well, Prim. Thank you!” Silt replies, smiling in return. “Is your mother home?” 

“No, she just left. Mrs Porter is in labor and since they lost the last one, mom wanted to be there to help with the birth.”  

“Oh that is way more important than being home!” Silt jokes, before he puts his hand in the bag he is carrying and takes out a couple of things. “I brought these as a thank you for helping me with Peeta.”  

I can see Prim’s eyes light up when he mentioned me, looking around Silt to see me more clearly. Her smile is kind and gentle as I can’t help but return it. 

“Mom told me he wasn’t doing well.” Prim replies, making me freeze up. “But I am glad to see he is up and running again. And don’t worry. Mom takes keeping secrets very seriously . She didn’t tell me what was wrong or how it happened. She just told me she was worried.” 

“Well, your mother is a miracle worker who does not get enough credit for what she can do.”  Silt tells her. “If there is anything you need done, don’t hesitate to ask.”  

“I’ll tell her when she returns!” Prim says. “Thank you for the food!” 

“You’re welcome, Prim!” Silt replies before she closes the door and we start walking back towards his house. 

We take the direct road this time, no diversions and as little people as we can manage. Once we walk into his tiny house, I sit down on the couch, breathing a sigh of relief as some of the tension on my back lessens instantly. 

“You did well.” Silt tries but I am not buying it. 

“You didn’t have very high expectations if that was your display of doing something well.”  I mutter. 

Silt chuckles softly at that. 

“Do you ever look back positively on something you do? Because it seems like you can only judge yourself like you aren’t good enough.” 

“Force of habit.” I mutter. 

“Probably ingrained by that lovely mother of yours.” Silt sighs. “Can’t say I like your brother either though.” 

“Rye is very much like mom. Not as violent but just as cold.” I reply. “It is no surprise that he figured out how to stay on her good side the fastest.” 

Silt sighs heavily. 

“What?” I ask him. 

“It just amazes me how fucked up your family is.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, to have an abusive mother is one thing. But to have the rest of your family ignoring everything that she does because of a reputation, that is just cruel.” Silt says, putting a cup of steaming tea in front of me. “How did you get so unlucky that none of them cares?” 

“Bran cares.” I mutter, taking a sip. 

“Does he?” Silt replies. “Because I think he just panicked when he found you. He brought you here because he didn’t know what to do but he is already breaking under the pressure that your parents are putting on him. He has already been asking me when you can go home.” 

“Well, home is where I belong. They need me.” 

“No they don’t, Peeta. Not really.” Silt tells me, sitting down on the couch next to me. “In theory they should be able to keep the bakery running without you. It is just convenient that you are around to help them. Your parents should be able to do it themselves though, just like Bran and Rye will be expected to do it with just two people. You are useful to them because it makes their life easier but I am sure they will be able to manage without you.” 

“You really think so?” I mutter, staring at the dark liquid in my hands. 

“I know so.” He mutters. “As soon as you turn eighteen they are going to drop you like a piece of dirt because they will have to pay you. They might tell you they won’t, but they can’t afford to pay all of their sons. They will tell you to leave and keep yourself afloat as soon as you open your eyes on your birthday.” 

“Well, it is not like I can do anything about that.” I reply. “That was bound to happen as soon as they discovered I was a boy when I came into this world. Sometimes I think it would have been better if I was a girl. They would have been able to arrange something for me like they did for Bran. Maybe it would have even been better if I was never born.” 

“Oh Peeta.” Silt sighs. 

“What?” 

“You don’t even realize it, do you?” 

“Don’t even realize what?” 

“How much you devalue yourself. You are so much more than you believe you are. And I get it, I do. You’ve been told for years and years that you are a failure. That you only make mistakes. That maybe you were even a mistake yourself. But you are not!” Silt tells me, looking genuine. “Your parents don’t even realize how wonderful you are. They don’t even realize how lucky they are to have you. How lucky they are to be allowed to keep you.” 

I do notice the subtle hint that he gives about his own parents. How they had a lot of children but also had to give one away to the games. How one of them got murdered for something he didn’t do. How they had to pay the price for what happened so many years ago.

“What was he like?” I mutter, looking at Silt. 

“Who? Ash?” 

I nod my head slightly. 

“You mention him but you don’t talk about him.” I reply.

“It hurts to talk about him.” Silt sighs. “It hurts to talk about his life and his death, so I avoid it.” 

“Why does it hurt to talk about his life?” 

“Because everything was so much better then.” He mutters. “My parents accepted me. They were proud of me. I was their perfect little boy.” 

“What has them accepting you to do with Ash?”

Silt sighs heavily before he rakes his hand through his hair. 

“Ash knew.” Silt mutters. “He was the one who saw my struggles and helped me figure out what was wrong. When we said our goodbyes in the Justice Building, he told me to be honest with myself and as a result with the people around me. He told me that they would love me no matter what if I decided to tell them. He all but made me swear it to him. So when he died I did. I told my parents and they reacted exactly opposite from what Ash had told me.” 

“I don’t think he realized what effect his death might have on their stance.” I tell him. 

“I don’t think he did either.” Silt mutters. “And I still wish I would have listened to the feeling in my gut instead of to him.”

“But that means that no one would have known.” I reply. “That you wouldn’t have been with Bran in the same way.” 

“No, but it would mean that I would still have my parents' approval and love. Now I hardly see them. It feels like I didn’t only lose Ash to the games but my family as well.” Silt sighs. “Everything changed when Ash was reaped. Everything.” 

“I’m sorry.” I mutter. “I don’t think I can imagine what that is like.” 

“And I hope you never have to.” He replies, taking another sip. “Those games are just cruel and wrong.” 

We remain silent for a while. Sipping our tea as I play with a piece of lint on one of the couch cushions. 

“Do you even want to go back?” Silt asks out of the blue. 

“What?” 

“Do you even want to go back to the bakery?” 

“Why wouldn’t I want to go back?” 

“Because they won’t change, Peeta. She won’t change.” Silt replies. “No matter what you do or how good you are. She is never going to be satisfied. You are never going to be good enough in her eyes.”

“I belong there though.” 

“You can belong anywhere you want.” Silt tells me. “I thought I didn’t belong anywhere when my parents threw me out but look at me now. I build my own world to belong in. A world in which everyone is welcome, in which everyone is valued. You can belong here, I would let you if you allowed yourself.” 

“But how? How can I abandon all of them?” 

“You did not abandon them, Peeta. They abandoned you!” Silt replies. “None of them ever truly helped you. Bran took you here but he didn’t want me to alert anyone for help. He’d rather have you suffer than get the help you needed. Rye did seem more worried about his own reputation than your health and don’t even get me started on your parents. You did not abandon them, they abandoned you just like my parents did with me.” 

“That is not the same.” I reply. 

“No, Peeta. It is. It is exactly the same.” Silt replies. “They didn’t care about me when I told them who I truly was, just like your family doesn't care about who you truly are. They don’t see the kindness and selflessness you carry on your sleeve. You are a wonderful person and none of them see it. I was hiding who I truly was and none of them wanted to see it, you are displaying it every single day and they just choose to ignore it. You deserve so much more than them.” 

“I am not su-” I start before we are interrupted by a knock on the door. A few seconds later the door opens to reveal Bran in the doorway. 

“Bran, baby, what a surprise!” Silt says, standing up to embrace his boyfriend. But when he reaches Bran, Bran steps back. 

A look of hurt and confusion settles on Silt’s face. 

“Can we talk?” Bran asks, his eyes falling on me. ”Alone?” 

“Yeah, sure.” Silt replies, before he walks away towards the bedroom with Bran on his heels, closing the door behind them.

Chapter Text

For a moment I am startled. Just a moment ago I was talking to Silt on the couch and that all of a sudden Bran barges in, acting odd and demanding his attention. It makes me curious as to why. Why would he be in such a hurry to talk to Silt?

Before I realize what I am doing I get up and move over to the thin wall that separates the living room from the bedroom. I am not sure why they went in there instead of outside because I can clearly hear every word they are saying. 

“What do you think you are doing?” Bran asks, sounding agitated. 

“What do you mean?” Silt replies. “I am taking care of your brother. Like you asked me to.” 

“Exactly.” Bran replies. “He is my brother. Not yours.” 

“What?” Silt replies. “What is your problem all of a sudden?” 

“You. You are my problem right now.” Bran replies. “I asked you to take care of him, not claim him as a replacement for your long lost brother.” 

“What the hell are you talking about, Bran?” Silt replies. “I know he is not Ash, I know he is your brother and not mine.” 

"Then why?” Bran hisses. 

“Why what?” Silt asks. 

“Why are you treating him like this?” 

“Like what, Bran?” Silt replies, sounding frustrated. “What exactly am I doing wrong?” 

“How about letting him sleep in the same bed as you? How about telling my brother that his mother is a slave owner instead of a parent?” Bran hisses. ”How about alerting Ruth Everdeen while I specifically told you not to?” 

“What would you have wanted me to do? Let him scream in pain because his back was getting infected?” Silt shouts. “He was hallucinating, Bran! He needed help!” 

“I told you to keep all of this a secret! I told you that no one could know why he was here! Yet you parade him around the district like nothing is wrong! Yet you try to convince him and everyone else that my parents are bad people!” 

“Which they fucking are, Bran!” Silt hisses. “When are you going to see that they are bad people? When are you going to see that how they are treating Peeta is unacceptable!” 

“I know that it is unacceptable, but that is something that is going on at my house! Mine, not yours! It is my family and my problem!” 

“Hate to break it to you, baby. But you are not handling it well.” Silt replies. 

“Don’t you dare!” Bran hisses. “You have no right to judge my family while you are doing so perfectly with your own!” 

“My family is not a part of the problem!” Silt says. “But Peeta is! Peeta is suffering, Bran! Peeta is the real victim in this and you ignore him and his needs!” 

“I am not ignoring him! I am doing this for him!” 

“What exactly are you doing? What are you trying to do for him?” 

“I want to get him home again! Where he belongs!” Bran shouts. 

“Where he belongs? Really?” Silt hisses, sounding sarcastic. “You just want him to go back to work! You need his talents and his hands to help you!” 

“I want him to come home because he is my brother! He is a Mellark and he is a part of our family!” 

“A part that gets abused physically and mentally! A part that your mom does not want to talk about beyond how much money she is missing!” 

“Mental abuse? Really? That is low.” Bran hisses. 

“What else would you call it, Bran?” Silt replies. “He has no self worth! He thinks that everything he does is wrong, that he will never be good enough for her! He feels like it would have been better if was never born! Do you even know who he is? Do you even see him as a person?” 

Suddenly the sound of a slap echoes through the house followed by a tension filled silence. It remains silent for about half a minute before Bran starts talking again. 

“I’m sorry, Silt. That shouldn’t ha-” 

“Get out!” Silt hisses. 

“Silt, please!” Bran says, his voice fragile and broken. 

“Get out!” Silt shouts, throwing open the door with such force that it makes me jump up. “Get the fuck out of my house!” 

I can see the tears in Bran’s eyes when he walks past me, only turning around just before the door. 

“Are you coming, Peeta?” 

“What?” I mutter, not really sure what I am supposed to do. 

“Peeta can stay if he wants.” Silt replies, sounding angry. “He doesn’t have to become a victim of your neglect.” 

A darkness washes over Bran’s face that reminds me an awful lot of our mother. I suddenly see that he is her son. I see the same coldness that Rye has. 

“Choose, Peeta. You either stay here or you don’t have to come home again.” Bran hisses, making fear grip my heart. 

“You don’t even fucking deserve him, Bran! You are just as bad as your parents if you force him to make a decision now!” 

“Fucking choose, Peeta!” Bran shouts. “Show me where your fucking loyalties lie!” 

“I -” I mutter, tears streaming down my face. “I can’t!” 

A flash of hurt washes of Bran’s face. Almost like I betrayed him in the most horrible way. Like I abandoned him. Abandoned all of them. 

“Right.” Bran hisses. “Lovely, Peeta. What a lovely way to thank me for protecting your ass. Don’t even bother knocking on my door again.” 

At that Bran turns around and runs out of the door, slamming it closed behind him and making my knees buckle. I crash to the ground, hurting a thousand different parts of my body as I sob uncontrollably. 

I don’t even notice that Silt kneels down beside me until I feel his arms close around my torso, letting me lean into him as he holds me. 

“It’s okay, Peeta. Let it all out.” He mutters into my hair. “You deserve so much more than them.” 

The next few hours go by in a haze. I think I cry until there are no tears left while Silt stays with and holds me the whole time. After a while he convinces me it would be better for me to move to the bed and he helps me get there before he gives me a cup of tea that holds some home made concoction that holds the same ingredients as sleep syrup. He tells me to drink it because I need to sleep. I don’t fight him on it. When the drowsiness overtakes me and lures me to sleep, I welcome it as an old friend. 

I am in a state of dreamless sleep for the whole night, waking up the next morning in an empty house. The sun has just come up when I open the curtains and walk into the living room. The loaf of bread that Bran left is on the counter, a little note right next to it. 

Peeta, 

I have an early shift again. I will be home just after lunch time. Eat what you have to, we’ll find a way to get enough food even without Bran’s support. Bran once told me that you like drawing so I dug up one of my old sketch books and a pencil. It is yours to keep and use, hopefully it will settle your mind a little. We’ll talk when I get home. 

Silt.

I put the little note aside to look at the sketchbook. It is one of the government issued ones that we use in school but that doesn’t matter. It is perfect for what I need. 

I grab a knife to slice off a piece of bread, grab a glass of water before I grab the sketchbook and settle at the table. A blank, white page stares at me as soon as I open it and without another thought I start drawing. 

My instincts lead, my brain not even thinking about what it wants to appear on the white canvas. I lose myself in it, my fingers loosely holding the pencil that puts line after line after line down. Creating an image that I only recognize when I look really closely. 

It is Bran, but not the Bran I know. It is the Bran from last night. The cold and angry Bran. The disappointed Bran that tells me that I am no longer welcome at our house. The image is almost a mix of my older brother and my mother and that scares me. 

I only look up from my drawing when I hear the door open. Silt is in the doorway, his hair wet as I realize it must be raining outside. 

“Hey.” He says, a small smile on his lips. “I see you found the book.”

“It’s perfect, thank you.” I mutter. 

“Did it help?” Silt asks, sitting down opposite me. 

“With what?” 

“Getting you out of your head. Making you think about something else than what happened.” Silt says. “I used to draw a lot after Ash died. Helped me to clear my head.” 

“No one died though.” 

“No, but you did lose something dear to you. In a way that is the same thing.” 

“I don’t think it feels real yet.” I mutter, looking at the drawing of Bran in front of me. “It is almost like I didn’t even recognize Bran yesterday. It was like my mom was in front of me instead of him.” 

“I guess that Bran is your mother’s son after all.” Silt replies. “However hard that is for the both of us.” 

“I guess.” I reply. “It also feels unreal that I won’t go home again. That I won’t live at the bakery anymore.” 

“I know.” Silt says smiling sadly. “We’ll find you a home here. It will take some getting used to, but we will figure it out.” 

“How are we going to get enough food though?” I ask, a problem that has been nagging at me ever since he mentioned it this morning. 

“We’ll figure something out. I could go to the hob, or I could take up some double shifts once we’ve got you settled down.”  

“Or I could go to the justice building at take up tesserae.” 

“No.” Silt says, shaking his head. “There are other ways to deal with this without you risking your life.” 

“I know, but I could do it. As a form of payment.” 

“I don’t want you to pay for staying here, Peeta. I am not after payment.” Silt says. “I want you to stay here because it keeps you safe. I want you to stay here so you can become happy and feel valued.” 

“Why?” 

“Because you deserve that. Everyone does.” Silt replies. “And because you remind me of myself when I was your age.” 

I huff slightly. 

“What?” He asks. 

“I am not gay.” I reply. “I have to big of a crush on a girl I will never get for that.” 

Silt laughs softly. 

“I didn’t mean gay, Peeta. I meant lost. Or more looking for his place in this world. His goal.” Silt says, a glimmer in his eyes. “I am not doing this to make you gay. I am not some kind of weird witch.” 

“Really? How disappointing.΅ I smile, feeling light hearted about our weird encounter. 

“Oh fuck you, Peeta.” Silt laughs. “Make yourself useful and make me some lunch. I’m starving.” 

“Yes, Master.” I jokingly say before I get up and start working on it. 

I lose myself a little in my task, noticing how calming it is to work with the ingredients on the counter. I don’t think I ever realized what it meant to me other than to please my mom but apparently some of the skill that my dad has, has rubbed off on me. 

“This drawing is amazing, by the way.” Silt mutters. “It is really good.” 

“Thank you.” I reply, turning around and putting a made up sandwich in front of him. 

Silt smiles at me when I do, looking like he truly appreciates my efforts. 

“How is your back?” Silt asks. 

“Better, I think.” I reply. “I haven’t really thought about it so that must mean it is doing better.” 

“That’s good.” Silt says taking a bite from the sandwich. “Have you given any thought to returning to school?” 

“No, not really. I am not sure if I can now.” 

“Why wouldn’t you be able to?” 

“Well, what if I come across Rye? Or my friends from town? What do I tell them?” 

“Well.” Silt mutters. “Rye probably knows what happened last night. He probably knows that you are staying with me, so there is no need to talk to him about that. You can avoid him if you like, it is not like you are in the same year.” 

“My friends are though.” 

“Do they know?” 

“That mom hits me?” I ask at which Silt nods his head. “Madge and Delly do, Onna doesn’t.” 

“Than you have a choice.” Silt replies. “You can be honest with Madge and Delly if you want but no one is forcing you to. You can also tell them that you live with me but you don’t want to talk about it. They can’t force you to share anything with them and you don’t have to. It is in your hands, Peeta.” 

“Is it weird that I am scared of going back?” 

“No.” Silt replies. “I was terrified to return after Ash’s games, absolutely terrified.” 

“How did you do it?” 

“Moved my feet and went.” He replies. “Tried to ignore the stares and the whispers until it didn’t face me anymore.” 

“Oh.” 

“It did help that Bran was there. He didn’t care that I suddenly was the brother of a tribute. He still saw me as Silt instead of as Ash’s brother.” 

“I don’t think a lot of people will stare at me.” I tell him. 

“No, there might be whispers from people who know that something is up. But there won’t be stares from literally everyone.” Silt says. “This might sound crazy but I think it is a matter of keeping your head held high and not let anything hit you. If you’ve trusted Madge and Delly in the past, you might be able to thrust them again and help you like Bran helped me.” 

“It sounds so easy. Just be brave and you’ll be fine.” I huff. “If only it was as easy as that.” 

“Well, it gets easier over time.” Silt says. “You already have developed some thick skin over the years with keeping your mom as near secret. See this, if you want it to, as the next big thing that needs to stay in the dark. I am sure you can manage if you put your mind to it.” 

“Right.” 

“Just think about it, Peeta. You don’t have to return tomorrow but you’ll have to some day. Peacekeepers will come knocking on my door sooner or later if I don’t allow you to go to school.” 

I nod my head slightly before we settle into a silence as Silt eats his lunch. After lunch I help him with cleaning his house. We change the sheets on the bed and wash some of the clothes we’ve worn in the last couple of days. When dinner comes around I ask Silt if I can cook, which he allows me to do. 

With the stuff that is in the cupboards I make a simple stew, enjoying working with the ingredients and creating something new. Silt quickly agrees that he will let me do the cooking from now on because it is a thousand times better than anything he can make. 

After dinner Silt takes his time to look at the wounds on my back and take care of the healing lacerations. He puts some of the balm from Mrs Everdeen on it which brings relief I didn’t knew I craved. Silt’s warm hands are comforting and it makes me feel safe and loved. 

When he is done we settle on the couch. I lean into his body in comfort with my sketchbook in my lap as Silt watches how I draw, asking me questions along the way. I end up with a drawing of Silt and Bran together, a picture I’ve memorized from when I used to find them together behind the hill. Silt looks slightly emotional when he recognizes himself, but he doesn’t tell me to stop. 

Eventually the room becomes to dark to draw and we decide to get ready for bed. Silt tells me that he is making a mental shopping list for al the stuff I still need like a toothbrush and some underwear. Until the time we can get some he lends me his stuff. We work together in silence before we move over to the bedroom. Once we settle down beneath the warm blankets a lonely feeling settles in my body. 

For a moment I debate what to do. I want to feel the same safety that I felt last night. But to ask him to hold me feels like it might be overstepping. It feels weird to ask him that, but on the other hand, I live here now and he has done it before. 

“Silt?” I mutter after a while. 

“Yeah?” 

“You can tell me no if you don’t want to.” 

“What is it, Peeta?” Silt asks, raising himself up on one arm. 

“Can you hold me like yesterday?” 

“Yeah, Peeta. Of course.” He replies, moving towards me before he opens his arms. 

I breathe a sigh of relief when his strong arms close around me, giving me comfort and protection. 

It doesn’t take long before I fall into a deep and peaceful sleep.

Chapter Text

I don’t decide on going back to school in the next couple of days. When Silt asks me about it again on thursday night I tell him that I might want to return on monday but definitely not before the weekend. He tells me he is fine with whatever I decide but also tells that he thinks it is very important that I go back and that I don’t wait too long with doing so. 

Slowly we divide up chores. I do all the cooking and I try to keep the house clean while Silt works. Silt still takes early shifts so he can be with me during the afternoon and we spend most of that time drawing or taking tiny walks around the seam. I don’t dare to go back to the square again in the afternoon because most of my classmates would be able to see me and ask questions, which Silt understands. 

The first time I set foot in the square again is on friday morning when Silt is still at the mines. He doesn’t know what I am planning to do and I deliberately chose to go at this time of the day in which all of my classmates are at school. This time of day in which most of the shops are just about to open so all of the shopkeepers are too busy to pay attention. 

Despite all the precautions, I still hide away in my hoodie. Covering the remains of my black eye and my blond hair from view. In theory I know where I need to go. In theory it must be easy to find, I just haven’t ever been there. 

The side entrance of the justice building has the big label; Capitol Affairs above it, telling me that it is where I should go. Once I am inside in the little entrance hall I see three little desks, the first is labeled Registration which basically means everything from shop licences, to marriage contracts, to reporting a birth or a death to housing. The second one is labeled Taxes which is all the name says, paying our endless streams of taxes and fees to be even allowed to exist in our district. The third is labeled Games Affairs, which is only used for two things: getting rare district sponsorship money during the games and the registration and distribution of Tesserae. 

I walk up to the third desk and the attendant behind it which, to my horror, is talking to Mayor Undersee. I almost want to turn around before he spots me, a look of surprise on his face. 

“Peeta, what a surprise! Madge told me you had been ill and out of school for a few days. Are you feeling better?” 

“I am, sir. I think I caught a cold.” 

“I am glad to hear it.” Mayor Undersee replies. “Is there anything I can do for you since you are here?” 

“Uhm, yeah.” I mutter. “I would like to take out tesserae.” 

The Mayor’s face falls immediately and a hint of worry appears.

“Is everything all right, Peeta?” He asks. 

“Yeah, I guess.” I mutter, trying desperately to not let him see the truth. 

“Are your mom and dad having trouble staying afloat?” 

“Something like that.” I reply, looking away in shame. 

“I could go talk to them if you would like. Maybe we can arrange something to make it easier.” The Mayor tries.

“That is very kind of you Mayor Undersee, But my parents don’t want anyone to know about this. They don’t want it to get out so I would prefer if you kept it to yourself.” 

“Of course, Peeta.” The Mayor replies, a look of understanding on his face. “Mr Barlow here can help you with registering you tesserae.” 

“Thank you.” I mutter, before the Mayor nods his head and walks away. 

“Can I have your name?” The attendant says, dragging my attention to him. 

“Peeta Mellark.” I mutter. 

“Date of birth?” 

“The 20th of January 58 ADD.” 

“How many people in your household?” 

For a moment I debate on telling him two, since that is the truth of where I live now. But here I must still be registered as living in the bakery which means that I can take out tesserae for five people. It also means five extra names in the reaping bowls. 

“Five.” I mutter. 

“Alright.” Mr Barlow says. “First things first, some rules and regulations regarding the action you are about to take. Tesserea can only be taken out once and it will remain registered for the remainder of your reaping years. There is no canceling tesserea or returning tesserea for the purpose of removing slips from the reaping bowls. Once taken it can’t be undone except in the case of the death of a family member in which case that persons tesserea will be removed from your account and one slip will disappear for the remainder of your reapings.” 

“I’m aware.” I mutter. 

“Good. Now onto the business side of things. If I register tesserae for every person in your house I will register five more slips for the next reaping on top of the four that you already have based on your age. That will bring the total to nine slips, alright?” 

“Yeah, that is fine.” I mutter.

“Excellent, now I just need your signature and than we are all set and I will get the packages for you.” 

My eyes quickly scan the form before I sign on the dotted line and watch Mr Barlow walk away. When he returns he is holding five similar bags with the Capitol seal all over them. 

“This is a months worth of grain and oil. There will be new bags available for you every second sunday of the month until you turn eighteen or get reaped.” Mr Barlow says. 

“Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, Mr Mellark.”

I quickly grab the bags from the counter and turn around to walk out of the Justice Building. I take some of the back alleys and passage ways to avoid anyone who might recognize me and see what I’ve just done before I arrive at Silt’s house. 

As soon as I am inside I put the bags on the counter before I start heating up the oven, the old thing creaks and puffs but it starts heating while I start the bread dough with the contents of the first bag. I know that tesserae grain is not of the same quality as the grain we use in the bakery, but it can be used to make some decent bread. 

I try to improvise with the ingredients I have and I can’t say I am disappointed when I finally manage to put a bread in the oven. Within half an hour it starts smelling like home and for once I am quite proud of myself. For once I used my knowledge in a good way and got something out of it. 

The bread is almost done when Silt comes home, looking surprised at the smell that lingers in the living room. 

“Did you bake?” Silt asks, following the clues his nose are giving him. 

“Yeah.” I reply, smiling. 

“Oh, you should smile more often. It looks nice on you!” Silt says, walking into the kitchen. “Where did you get the grain?” 

I remain silent at that, nervous about how he will react when I tell him the truth. But in the end I don’t have to tell him because before I can say anything he notices the bags on the counter. He must recognize the seal from his own time on tesserae. He must know what I did. 

“Peeta, please tell me you didn’t.” He mutters. 

“It was the only way I could help.” I reply. “The only way for me to thank you.” 

“No, it isn’t.” Silt replies, looking from the bags to me. “You being here is thanking me enough. Seeing you happy, seeing you smile. That is the most perfect thing you could give me. You didn’t have to sell your soul to thank me.” 

“I didn’t sell my soul. I just took some tesserae.” 

“Some?” Silt replies. “Peeta, you took tesserae for every single member of your ungrateful family.” 

“Well, they are not getting it. We are.” 

“Yeah, but at what cost? That is five more slips this year and then another five and another five. Those slips could change your life.” 

“But they probably won’t. There are Seam kids who’ve taken out way more from the moment they turned Twelve.” 

“I know.” Silt sighs. “I was one of those seam kids, as was Ash.” 

“Ash had way more slips than I will ever get.” I mutter. 

“He did.” Silt replies. “But Aloy didn’t and neither did Jett. I don’t think Jett even took tesserae. He had just one simple, meager slip and it still got him reaped.” 

“So having more slips doesn’t mean anything.” I reply, trying not to feel the same panic as Silt might feel. “And it doesn’t even fucking matter. I did it and I can’t undo it.” 

“I just wished you hadn’t.” Silt replies. “I get why you did it, but I just wished you hadn’t. We would’ve gotten by without it.” 

“I’m sorry.” I mutter, feeling tears come up instantly. “I’m sorry.” 

Silt’s face falls instantly when he sees the look in my eyes. Holding his hands up in surrender as he walks towards me. 

“Oh no, Peeta. I didn’t mean it like that.” He tells me, opening his arms. “Come here, I am not mad at you.” 

Without a second thought I walk forward into his open arms, letting him hold me as I try to get my panic under control. 

“I am not mad at you, Peeta. I won’t get mad at you for making your own choices. I am not your mother.” Silt mutters. “Making mistakes is what makes you human. You deserve to be human.” 

I remain silent, holding my eyes closed tightly as I press my nose into his broad chest. 

“I am actually proud of you for going out though. You made a decision and did what you wanted to do. That is good.” Silt replies. “It means you are getting better.” 

“I was scared shitless that someone would see me.” I mutter. 

“But you still went.”

“Yeah.” 

“That counts for something.” Silt replies, placing a soft kiss on the top of my head. A part of me wonders if that should feel weird while another part lingers in the comfort. Lingers in the love that radiates from him despite only really knowing me for two weeks. 

When Silt lets go we settle back into our routine. Silt immensely enjoys the piece of still warm freshly baked bread, even closing his eyes in delight when he tastes it. It would have been even more perfect if I could have added some raisins or put some butter on it, but it stands perfectly well on its own. 

I spend my hours drawing while Silt goes to the Hob to do some grocery shopping. He told me that he sometimes goes to the square but that he goes to the Hob when is money is a little tighter. I want to apologize but he won’t even let me say the words. Telling me that he loves the Hob and that he wants to support the people who earn their living there. 

While he is gone I draw him. I draw him sitting next to me on the couch, a relaxed smile on his face as he is holding a steaming cup of tea. For a moment I wonder why I draw him like that until I realize that this is what being safe feels like right now. Silt is what makes me feel safe. His care, his attention, his protection. Silt is something I craved for years but never got. 

When he returns with the groceries, I happily start cooking for him while he looks through my sketchbook on the couch. 

“Drawing helps, doesn’t it?” He mutters after a while, making me look at him over my shoulder. 

“It does.” I reply. “It gets my mind off of things for hours on end. It is almost like I am on a tiny break from everything.” 

“Who taught you to draw?” 

“No, one. I started scribbling in my school books, the teacher saw it and alerted my parents that I was deviling Capitol property. Got a beating for it and had to swear not to do it again but they started using my talent for the bakery after that.” 

“What did they make you do?” 

“Designing cakes at first, especially the ones we make for Commander Cray. But now it is also piping and decorating them. My hand is much steadier than my dad’s.” I reply, putting to plates on the table. “Dinner is ready.” 

Silt looks up instantly, smiling widely before he puts the book away and gets up. 

“It smells wonderful, Peeta. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” I mutter, sitting down opposite him. 

“So.” Silt starts. “Tomorrow is the only day of the week that I could not get an early shift. Most of those go to the young dads who want to spend time with their kids that are free from school. It means that I won’t be free in the afternoon but that I will have some time in the morning.” 

“Anything you want to do?” 

“I was thinking about spending a good amount of time in bed before I take you to see my sister.” 

“Your sister?” I mutter. “I thought you didn’t have any contact with your family?” 

“I don’t, except with one of them.” Silt replies between bites. “Daffy is the sister in between Ash and me. She is the oldest now and she didn’t buy my parent’s bullshit about disgracing the family.” 

“Daffy?” 

“It’s short for Daffodil, but she literally detests that name. So we call her Daffy. She is married to a Hawthorne, which there are so fucking many off that no one is keeping track anymore. I think the Hawthornes had like seven sons a generation back. There is a Hawthorne family on every street down here.” 

“Do they have kids?” 

“They do.” Silt says, smiling widely. “Julian is three and Daylily is ten months.” 

I can see the pride in his eyes. He is proud to be an uncle to them. To be the fun goofball that I am sure he is when he is with them. 

“Are you sure that I would be welcome?” 

“Of course you are.” Silt replies. “Daffy is the most relaxed and lovely person there is. She will welcome you with open arms.” 

“If you are sure about it.” I reply. “I would love to come along.” 

“Well, that is settled then.” Silt says, smiling widely. “And you’ll get a haircut at the same time.” 

“What?” 

Silt chuckles softly. 

“Daffy has been cutting the hair of the whole family for years. I thought it would be nice to let her tame your curls, they could use a haircut.” 

“You think so?” 

“Peeta.” Silt sighs. “Really? Have you even looked at yourself lately?” 

I remain silent for a while. Looking in a mirror isn’t exactly a hobby of mine. All of a sudden Silt gets up, reaching out his hand, which I take, before he leads me to the bedroom. He opens one of the doors of the dresser, reveling the big mirror on the inside that I had tried to avoid. 

Silt moves me in front of it, standing behind me with his hands on my shoulders. An awfully happy smile on his face. 

“Look at that.” 

“I am.” I reply. “There is nothing special.” 

“Nothing special?” Silt huffs. “Are you even looking, handsome?” 

His words make me blush lightly, before I turn my eyes to the ground. 

“No, Peeta.” Silt replies, his hand on my chin. “Really look.” 

I take a deep breath before I try to focus on the person I see in the mirror. There is the faint hint of a bruise on the right side of my face, just beneath my eye. It is in the state of yellow that appears just before it will fade completely. 

There are two bright blue eyes looking back at me. Bright blue like my father’s and my grandfather’s. The light blonde curls that surround my head are my mother’s. They are unruly and do need the haircut that Silt suggested. 

My eyes follow my soft looking chin down my neck and onto my collarbones, only covered by the wife beater I am wearing. They stick out a little which amazes me. It is a clear sign of being too skinny, of not having eaten enough in the last couple of weeks. It is something that is seen in Seam kids, not those that come from town. Not those that look like me. 

I follow the lines of my body down. My hands are fidgeting and restless. The remnants of bruises on my arms. The belt that is the only thing that keeps my jeans from falling down my body. 

It amazes me when I feel a tear slit down my face. I hadn’t even noticed that I had started crying, but apparently I had. 

“Talk to me, Peeta.” Silt whispers. “What do you see?” 

“It is so hurt.” I mutter. “It is skinny and bruised and -” 

“Not it, Peeta. You.” Silt replies, his arms now safely around my waist. “You are hurt. Inside and out.” 

“I don’t want to be.” 

“And you don’t have to be. But right now you are.” Silt tells me as I lean back into his body for comfort. “Can you look beyond it though?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Can you look beyond the bruises? See the beautiful person underneath it?” 

“I am not beautiful.” I mutter, feeling flattered that he even thinks I am. 

“Yes, you are.” Silt tells me, a light twinkle in his eyes. “Everyone is in their own way, except maybe your mother.” 

I chuckle and huff at that, wanting to turn away but Silt keeps me in place. 

“I am serious though.” Silt mutters. “Want to know what I see when I look at you?” 

I nod my head slightly, looking into his honest eyes through the mirror. 

“I see a gorgeous boy with sparkling and mesmerizing eyes, adorable curls and the most genuine and honest smile if he allows himself to smile.” Silt says, making a smile appear on my own face. “I see a strong boy with power both on the inside and out. I see a boy that has had to grow up faster than many others, that had to fight for himself from the moment he could walk. I see a boy that craves love and the feeling of belonging somewhere. A boy that is kind and selfless and wants everyone to feel better except himself.” 

“You really see that?” I mutter, looking at him intently. 

“Yeah, I do.” Silt replies. “You are wonderful, Peeta. No one has ever told you that by no fault of your own, but you are. You are amazing.”

Chapter Text

 Just like every night since I asked, we fall asleep cuddling. Silt pressed close against my back as his arms protectively circle my torso. It helps to keep the nightmares away, or at least it did until tonight. 

It is the strangest dream I might have ever had, living at the bakery like I used to but it is almost like I don’t exist. I have no bed, no chair at the table, no chores. It is almost like I was never even there. It gets even more depressing when my parents don’t even seem to recognize me when I talk to them. It is like I am just another kid from the neighborhood instead of their son. 

I don’t wake up screaming or panicked, the opposite, I am utterly and completely silent until I wake up feeling frozen. There are goosebumps littering my body as Silt’s arms feel like a trap. 

For a moment I think that I haven’t woken him up but I immediately start doubting that when his arms pull me closer towards his own body. One of his hands moves from my waist to the area just above my pelvis, his fingers snaking under the fabric of my shirt to touch my bare skin. 

My whole body is frozen as his fingers start playing with the skin there. It immediately makes me wonder if he has done this before while we were sleeping. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, sounding half asleep and placing a few soft kisses in my neck. 

“Nothing.” I whisper. “I had a nightmare.” 

“What was it about?” He replies, perking himself up on one of his elbows as my body falls over onto my back to face him. His hand still on my lower belly. 

“It was weird.” I mutter. “I was there but no one recognized me, it was almost like I didn’t exist.” 

Silt’s brow furrows in confusion. His face just inches from mine. 

“That must have been scary.” 

“It was.” I reply, looking away from his stare. “Almost like I don’t matter to them.” 

“But you do. You matter to me.” Silt replies, his hand leaving my belly before he strokes the stray hairs out of my eyes. “You know that right?” 

“I do.” I whisper. “I know you care. I don’t understand why, but I know you do.” 

“Why wouldn’t I care about such an amazing boy? Hmm?” 

“Why would you?” 

“Because you deserve it.” Silt replies. “I know I have told you that about a hundred times and I will tell you a million times more if that is what it takes to see it yourself.” 

“What does it matter if you are the only one who sees it?” I ask. 

“Oh baby, it doesn’t matter if I see it. It matters if you see it.” He replies while his fingers softly stroke the sensitive skin on my collarbone. “If you can see it, others will follow.” 

“You really believe that?” 

“Yeah, I do.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I have to believe that there is something in this world that is ours.” Silt sighs. “So many things are decisions of others. Where we work, how much we work, what we eat, what we don’t eat, how we life, how we die. It is all their design and I don’t want that. I don’t want to matter because they see a fit miner, I want to matter because of the little things that make me, me.” 

“You don’t want to be owned.” I mutter. 

“Something like that. Even though it feels like I am not matter what I do or want.” 

I stare into his eyes for quite a while, enjoying the look in them. The determination, the peace. He is very far from a basic miner, he is kind and generous like many of us want to be but aren’t. 

A soft smile spreads around his mouth when I reach up one of my hands to stroke his long dark locks out of his face. It feels intimate and nice. It feels like something I have never felt before. 

In a way it doesn’t even surprise me when Silt leans down and catches my mouth with his, placing a soft peck on my lips before he becomes more forceful. Pressing his lips against mine while his tongue forces itself into my mouth. 

A thousand things go through my head at once. Confusion. Love. Safety. Anxiety. Fear. Regret. But most of all confusion. 

It is almost like my mind is not able to come up with an explanation for what is happening. That it just can’t place the fact that he is kissing me. The man that has given me safety, the man that has given me a place to belong. 

I am not gay, I am pretty sure of that and I think that Silt knows it to. So why? 

Maybe he does want payment after all. Just not in the form of tesserae. 

Payment. Maybe this is his way of making me pay for staying with him. For helping me out while I had nowhere else to go. 

When he pulls back there is a content smile on his face. His fingers caress the sides of my face in a loving manner. A manner that means no harm. A manner that screams comfort. 

“Are you okay?” Silt asks. 

It doesn’t even take me long to nod my head. 

Yeah, I think I am okay. It was just a kiss. It doesn’t have to mean anything. And it felt good, didn’t it?

“Good. That is good.” He mutters, giving me another peck on the lips. “Wouldn’t want you to get scared.” 

“I am not.” I mutter, not really sure if I believe my own words. 

“Alright.” Silt mutters. “Let’s go back to sleep.” 

I can feel him settle down again, pressing me against him in the way that felt comforting before. It still does, but it isn’t the only thing I feel. Especially not when the hand on my lower stomach returns. I can hear Silt sigh happily behind me before his breathing slows down and he falls back asleep.

I don’t. 

The confusion is so overwhelming that I simply can’t fall asleep. It takes a while for me to realize what has happened. 

He kissed me. It was gentle and loving, but it was still a kiss. 

It was only a kiss. 

Maybe I am just confused because my family doesn’t kiss in any shape, way or form. My family doesn’t show any affection. I’ve never even seen my mom and dad kiss each other, let alone any of us. Maybe a kiss means nothing. Or at least not in the way that I think it does. 

Maybe his parents brought him up with a lot of affection. Maybe he thinks that what he shows me is just that, brotherly affection. Comfort. Safety. 

It takes me a few hours to realize that I probably overreacted. That it means nothing more than it was. Just a show of love. A show of comfort. That is all. 

The sun is almost coming up when I am finally able to fall asleep again. This time my dreams are blissfully empty. No nightmares and no one that denies my existence. 

I wake up a few hours later to a soft kiss on my forehead and some nimble fingers that tossle my hair. 

“Wake up, bright eyes.” 

“Bright eyes?” I mutter, opening my eyes. “Is that new?” 

“Maybe.” Silt replies. “It sure fits you.” 

“I guess.” I mutter, closing my eyes again. 

“Oh no, you don’t, sleepy head. You need to get up.” Silt jokes, dragging the blankets away from me. 

“Why?” I whine. “I thought we would sleep in.” 

“And we did.” Silt replies. “It’s ten o’clock.” 

My eyes shoot open at those words. I don’t think I ever slept that long when I wasn’t in pain. I turn around to face Silt, who is grinning at me like crazy. 

“You need to get out of bed if we want to go to my sister before my shift starts at two.” 

With those words I quickly get out of bed, throw on some of Silt’s old clothes that fit me now before we walk out the door. Silt acts like nothing happened last night which is comforting. If he doesn’t think something went wrong than my assumption might as well be true. He is used to showing his affection in this way, he didn’t mean any harm in it. 

We walk silently through the district until we reach one of the streets near the square. A woman is outside, a little baby in a sling on her chest. Silt starts smiling widely before he cups his hands around his mouth and starts shouting. 

“Oh my dear, dear Daffodil. Marry me!” 

The woman turns around, grinning wideley as I immediately see the resemblance. 

“Oh shut up, Silton. Like your name is any better.” 

“I never claimed such a thing.” Silt laughs, walking towards her, embracing her and the baby. 

A little shriek comes from inside as a little boy comes rushing out of the door. 

“Uncle Silt!” Silt looks away from his sister to catch the little boy that jumps into his arms. 

“Hi sport, how are you doing?” 

“Daddy is hurt.” Julian exclaims. “He has a big boo boo on his leg.” 

Silt’s eyes turn to his sister in alarm. 

“What happened?” 

“Just a minor incident during his shift yesterday.” Daffy replies. “They were blasting a new tunnel and a block that should have been secure came loose. It grazed his leg, nothing broken or anything, just really sore and he will have to regrow some skin.” 

“My leg almost fell off and you call it a minor injury.” A limping man in the doorway says with a big smile on his face. “Such a caring wife.” 

“She never has been, Lyle. I thought you knew that when you married her.” Silt jokes. 

“Yeah, marrying for her looks wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done.” Lyle replies, kissing his grinning wife on the cheek before his eyes fall on me. “What are you doing with a town boy?” 

Silt looks at me as well. 

“This is Peeta Mellark.” Silt says. “The -” 

“Baker’s son, I know.” Lyle replies. “But why is he with you?” 

“He is living with me for the time being.” Silt replies. “Bran asked me to take care of him for a little while.” 

“And why is that?” Lyle asks, the venom in his voice unmistakable. “Why can’t he stay in town where he belongs?” 

“Lyle.” Daffy tries before Silt defends me once again. 

“He has his reasons, Lyle. None of which are your business.” 

“Let it go, Ly.” Daffy says. “He hasn’t done anything wrong.” 

Lyle huffs a little before he disappears back inside without another word. Silt sighs heavily while Daffy focuses on me. 

“It’s nothing personal, Peeta.” She tells me, smiling brightly. “He is groggy from missing his shifts because of his leg. Your blond hair also doesn’t help. People from town used to beat him up because of how he looked so he has a natural grudge against them. He’ll warm up to you in no time.”

I nod my head, not saying anything as I watch Daffy and Silt talk. Silt asks her to cut my hair which she agrees to without even thinking about it. While she walks inside, I sit down on the little stairs towards the main entrance. She returns with a comb and a pair of scissors and starts working right away. 

She is done fairly quickly and as Silt prepares to go home again, I excuse myself to go to the toilet. I am on my way back outside when I hear Daffy and Silt talking on the porch. I know that I am eavesdropping but their hushed conversation is drawing me towards the door without showing myself. 

“What are you doing, Silt?” 

“Nothing! I swear to you, Daf. He is just staying with me.” 

“Just staying with you?” Daffy huffs. “Since when can you afford feeding a growing teenager?” 

“We’ll figure it out!” Silt replies. “He needed safety and comfort, just like I needed back then.” 

“Peeta isn’t you, Silt!” Daffy hisses. 

“You think I don’t know that?”

“Well, right now I am not sure if you do!” Daffy says. “Just because he reminds you of yourself at that age doesn’t mean you have to act like Ash.” 

“Don’t you fucking dare bring Ash into this!”

“Why not?” Daffy asks. “Because I think you need a reminder! You need to remind yourself that what Ash did wasn’t normal! You need to remind yourself that him getting reaped did not make up for the shit he pulled, even though our parents see him as the perfect child!” 

“Ash comforted me when I needed it, Daffy. He helped me figure out who I was and who I wanted to be!” 

“At what cost?” 

“None!” Silt shouts, before his voice turns like a whisper again. “You have this idea in your head about what Ash supposedly did to me, but you weren’t there, where you? I was there and I say none of the things you made up happened!” 

“I just want you to be careful, Silt. That is all I want to say.” Daffy replies. “If the rumours about the baker’s wife are true, then the boy has had enough on his plate. Don’t hurt him more.” 

“I am not out to hurt him, Daf.” Silt sighs. “I want to show him how much love he deserves. How wonderful and amazing he is if he only believes in himself.” 

“Just be careful, okay?” 

He must have nodded his head because the conversation turns silent after it. I breathe deeply before I step through the door, my hands deep inside of the pockets of my jeans. Silt’s face lights up when sees me. 

“Ready?” He asks. 

“Yeah.” I reply. “Let’s go get you some lunch before you have to work.” 

And that is exactly what we do. We walk home together before I make him lunch and he gets dressed for his shift. He hugs me tightly before he places a kiss on my forehead and disappears. 

After he leaves I clean up the kitchen and the living room before I make the bed because we had left it a mess that morning. I am just about to make myself some lunch and sit down when there is a small knock on the door. 

I quickly get up but when I open the door I almost want to close it again. 

“What do you want?” I ask, sounding more agitated than I meant. 

“Can we talk?” Bran asks. 

“Why?” I reply. “I thought you never wanted to see me again.” 

“I made a mistake, Peet. Please give me another chance!” 

I think about it for a second before I let out a tired sigh and step aside to let him in. 

“You are lucky that Silt is working, I am not sure if he would have let you in.” 

“I know.” Bran replies. “That is why I am here now instead of this morning.” 

“Took the time to figure out his schedule.” I reply. “That sounds kind of creepy.”

“Schedules are public knowledge. Everyone can look them up.” 

“Still doesn’t mean you have to.” 

“Right.” Bran says, sounding uncertain and out of place. 

I don’t look at him when I grab my lunch from the counter, putting it down on the table before sitting down. Bran hesitates for a moment before he sits down opposite me. 

“You baked bread.” He tells me. 

“I did.” I reply. “I might not live at home, but I still know how to bake.” 

“I know you do.” Bran replies. “You have a real talent for baking.” 

I am not really sure how to react to it, so instead I remain silent and take another bite in the tension filled silence. 

“Dad wants you to come home.” Bran mutters out of the blue. “He misses you.” 

“Does he miss me or my help with the cakes?” I ask, sounding defensive. I have no clue why exactly I am so angry with Bran. Maybe I am starting to see that I am worth more than they think I am. Maybe some of Silt’s wisdom is rubbing off on me and this is me showing it. 

Bran doesn’t answer. Maybe he doesn’t know the real answer. 

“He talked to mom.” Bran says instead. “Told her that she needed to chance if she wanted you to come back home. That she needed to find another outlet for her anger.” 

“She must have enjoyed hearing that.” I mutter. 

“Not really.” Bran replies. “Never heard a worse screaming match between those two.” 

I look at my older brother in wonder. He looks down and sad. Like he is not sure what he is supposed to do. 

“Why are you here, Bran?” 

“To take you home.” He mutters. “To convince you that you belong with your family.” 

“Than what are you waiting for?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Convince me.” 

“How?” Bran asks. 

“I don’t know.” I reply. “Maybe you should have thought of that before you came here.” 

Bran huffs, letting out a low chuckle. 

“Well, I kind of imagined that you would thank me and come with me without me even having to try.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah.” He replies. “How silly of me.” 

“Yeah. How silly.” 

Bran breathes deeply before he looks up from the table. 

“You are not coming, are you?” 

I shake my head lightly. 

“Something needs to change first, Bran. And she is not willing to do that, you just said so yourself.” 

“I can’t argue with that.” Bran mutters. “Just know that you always can when you change your mind, alright? If there is anything you need, just come to the back door and we will help you without her even knowing you were there.” 

“I’ll keep it in mind.” I reply. “Thanks.” 

“Alright. Take care.” Bran mutters, before he turns around and walks out of the house.

Chapter Text

I spend the rest of the day drawing my family. There are drawings of a moody looking Rye in his baker’s whites, my dad smiling at a new cake design that I made and even a few of my mom with a rolling pin, ready to strike. It is almost weird to be able to see the emotions in the drawings as well. Those of mom are dark colored with a lot of gray shading, while the happy ones of my dad are much lighter.

I am so caught up in my drawings that I don’t even notice it is getting close to dinner time until Silt walks in. He silently enters the house, noting that something is wrong as he softly sits down beside me. 

“Hey.” He whispers. “Whats up?” 

“Bran was here.” I mutter, my eyes still focused on the paper in front of me. 

“What did he want?” Silt says softly. 

“To convince me that I would come and live back home.” 

“Did he? Convince you, I mean.” 

“No.” I reply. “He didn’t even really try. He sort of expected me to drop everything as soon as he asked and thank him for even asking before I would happily follow him.” 

“Did he really think that would work?” Silt asks. 

“I don’t know. Maybe.” 

Silt sighs heavily, his hand grabbing mine in comfort. 

“Let’s just forget about it. You are staying here and that is that. Alright?” 

I nod my head slightly, sending him a small smile. 

After that we make dinner, Silt helps me cut up the ingredients while I cook them and try to make it something decent. We talk about how his shift was and we have an interesting conversation about how Lyle’s incident shouldn’t have happened if the bombers had been trained better. 

We go to bed early, cuddled up in each other under the warm blankets to drift away into a night without nightmares. 

It certainly helps that sunday is the typical day off for all the miners in the district. The mines are closed so everyone has more time to spend time with their loved ones. It is also the day in which most families traditionally have bath time. 

The miners have the option to clean up after their shifts, but getting out all the coal dust from their pores is a tougher job. Coal Dust could be quite a problem for the whole district, men, women and children alike. So usually people would take their time to clean up thoroughly on sundays. So it doesn’t really surprise me when Silt tells me he will get the tub ready as soon as we wake up. 

I make breakfast as he sets up the tub, heating the water before he drops some of the soap into it that is a part of the standard miner’s attire. 

“So, get in.” Silt tells me with a big smile as soon as the tub is filled to the brim with hot steaming water. 

“You are going to stay here?” 

“Where else should I go?” Silt asks. “Besides, your back needs to get a deep cleaning now that the wounds are basically healed.” 

“Right.” I mutter, feeling self conscious but trying to get over it. 

I quickly lose the shirt I am wearing, dropping it on the ground because it needs to be washed before I open my belt and pants to let it drop to the ground. I take a deep breath before I drop my boxers, cupping my genitals in my hands to hide them from view. 

I don’t look at Silt as I walk forward and sit down into the tub, not wanting to know if he looked at me at all. The warm water hugs my body like a glove, making me sigh in relief. It is really nice to be able to be engulfed in the warmth, it almost makes me forget that Silt is right next to me.

I am acutely aware of that fact when I feel a washcloth against my upper back, make me sit up straight and look at him. 

“I’m sorry.” He mutters. “I didn’t want to hurt you.” 

“It didn’t. Hurt, I mean.” I reply. “You just surprised me. That’s all.” 

“That’s okay.” Silt replies, smiling softly. “I just thought that a little help would be nice.” 

My mind is instantly filled with confusion. I don’t think I want the help but I also don’t think it is my right to refuse it after everything he has done for me. What is a little help with getting my back clean? It is not like there is something wrong with that. It is not like he hasn’t seen me naked before, he helped me get to the toilet a couple of times in those first few days. He might have even helped me wipe my ass although I am not sure if I remember that. 

In the end I remain silent. Not saying yes but also not saying no to his help, which he must see as a sign to continue his path on my back. I look down at the water as I feel his hand move lower and lower. When he reaches the cleft of my ass, I jerk up.

“Easy, Peeta. There is some blood that ran down your back and ended there. I am just going to clean it.” 

It doesn’t relax me completely but I do try to breathe through the feeling of discomfort. I have no other choice than to trust him and let him clean it but it does feel highly uncomfortable when his fingers dig deeper into the cleft of my ass. It is almost like he is trying to clean the area around my asshole and I don’t dare say anything about it. His fingers even swiftly touch my perineum which sends another shiver down my spine, before the fingers disappear and move to the sides of my body. 

My body remains frozen as it sort of lets everything happen. It lets itself get touched and caressed. It is almost like it has resigned itself and it doesn’t send signals to my brain to tell me it feels wrong. Not even when Silt’s hand moves down my stomach towards my penis, taking it in his hand and cleaning, or stroking, it with a featherlight touch. 

It must be okay, right? It must be something that was normal in the household where Silt grew up. With so many children it must have been normal that siblings helped each other clean up. It must have been Ash and Daffy’s task before Silt took over when Ash died. It must be normal or he wouldn’t do it. 

Right? 

“God, you are gorgeous.” He mutters more to himself than to me, which sends a shiver down my spine. 

“I am not.” I reply. 

“Yes, you are.” Silt replies. “I don’t understand why the girls aren’t fighting to have you as a boyfriend. Why Katniss doesn’t even see you. You are a very handsome boy despite the marks.” 

I return to silence, not knowing what I should say to him about that. It feels weird to point out that hearing something like that from a gay person feels weird. But maybe he did not mean it like that. Maybe he just wanted me to know because other people might have that opinion. Maybe he wasn’t saying it because he meant something more with it. Maybe I am just confused by all of this. Maybe I am confused by everything at the moment. 

“I think you are done.” Silt mutters, reaching his hand out to me before he grabs a towel with the other. I take the hand and let him lift me up, covering myself with the other hand until I can wrap the towel around my body and hide it completely. 

Silt smiles at me before he starts undressing myself. Once he gets to his pants I look away, not wanting to see his manhood in its full glory which makes him chuckle. 

“It’s okay, Peeta. You can look, I don’t mind.” 

“I do though.” I reply. 

“Why?” Silt asks, which makes me open my eyes to see a surprised look on his face. “What is wrong with seeing another man’s penis?” 

“I - It’s just -” I sigh heavily. “I’ve never seen one and it feels too private.” 

“Really? You’ve never seen any of your brothers’? You live in a house full of teenaged boys and that never happened?” 

“We have a lock on the bathroom door.” I mutter. “And there was never any other situation in which that occurred.” 

“Ash and I used to see each other naked all the time. He used to bathe me like we just did and I would return the favor.” Silt tells me. “It really was our moment. We even bathed together on the morning of the reaping.” 

“Why?” I ask. “Why did he do that instead of your parents or Daffy?” 

“Dad used to do little fixing jobs around the district on Sundays so he could bring in some extra money and mom was busy with the littles. So Ash did it, he was the oldest and the only male so it made sense. Daffy did the older girls.” 

“Oh.” 

“It is no big deal. It is just how we did it when we were young.” Silt tells me. “Now why don’t you get on your knees?”

“What?” 

“I’ll show you how to do it.” Silt explains. “I used to help Ash and that was just the normal layer of coal dust. The layer in mine is way more than it was back then.” 

“I - I am not sure if -”

“Oh come on, Peeta. It is no big deal! We help each other clean up at the mines all the time. It just really helps to get all the little hidden spots when someone can do it for you.” Silt tells me. “Besides, I helped you so it would be nice if you could help me.” 

With a heavy sigh I nod my head. It sounds reasonable to help him out. It doesn’t have to mean anything. He has done it for years and it didn’t mean anything then. It was just a way to get clean. 

I kneel down beside the tub as Silt gets in and sits down. I take the edges of the towel as I pull it closer against my body and tuck in the edge to make it stay where it is before I look at Silt for guidance. 

He smiles at me before he hands me the wet washcloth. 

“Start with my back.” He tells me. “Just slow strokes all the way down to my ass. Those black spots get literally everywhere.” 

I nod my head before I touch the cloth to his shoulders, making slow circling motions from side to side before I slowly move lower and lower. I take a deep breath before I find the courage to dip below his waist and swiftly clean in between his ass cheeks. I don’t linger nearly as long as he did but as I quickly move over to the front, his hand catches my wrist. 

“That won’t do it, baby. It needs more cleaning than that.” 

I nod my head slightly before my hand returns to his ass, swiping it a few more times. 

“Go further down.” Silt mutters. “That part is easier to reach from behind.” 

My hands are starting to shake when I do that. Feeling his balls against my fingertips and being much closer to them than I ever wanted. When I move away he doesn’t stop me, apparently satisfied with what I did. 

I stroke over his sides towards his chest, moving up and down until I finally find the courage to move over to his waist. Within seconds I notice that he is in fact hard, his erection standing up against his lower stomach. I want to pull back immediately but once again Silt’s hand closes around my wrist. 

“It’s okay, baby.” He tells me. “It is just a sign that I like to be touched. Nothing will happen if you touch it, I promise.” 

“What if I don’t want to?” I mutter, looking at him. His eyes are clear and friendly, no bad intentions visible in them.

“I would be disappointed.” Silt replies, his mouth in a playful pout. “And I don’t think you want me disappointed.” 

His reaction startles me for a moment until a feeling of fear overtakes me. What if he gets angry if he is disappointed? What if he starts to act like mom when she is disappointed in me? What if he throws me out like she did? Where do I go then? 

He can’t be disappointed in me. He just can’t. I need him to be happy and kind. Not angry. 

I nod my head slightly before I look away and focus on the task in front of me. I try not to think about it when I put the cloth against his penis, stroking up and down to get it cleaned up. Silt moans slightly at the touch which makes me slightly nauseous. 

After a few strokes I try to pull away again before I feel Silt’s hand closes around mine, holding it in place. 

“Go on, it isn’t clean yet.” He mutters before I feel his free hand take away the cloth. His other closes more firmly around my hand, making me wrap my fingers around his dick. 

It doesn’t take long before he puts more pressure on my hand, forcing it to move up and down in a long, slow stroke. There is nothing I can do but close my eyes and let it happen. Let him speed up the movement and speed up even more until his ragged breathing turns into moans. Moans that get more intense and more intense until he cries out and I can feel his penis twitch under my hand, squirting big streams of cum into the tub. 

He lets go of my hand right away, allowing me to pull back completely. I sit down on my butt, a little confused as to what just happened while another part of me is very aware of what just happened. 

I gave him a handjob. I made him cum. 

For a moment I just can’t comprehend what that means and why I did it. It just happened. I didn’t want him to become angry and then it just happened. 

“Are you okay?” Silt asks, making me look up at him straight into his eyes that are filled with worry. 

I give him a tiny nod before I look away, not sure what else to say or do. 

“Hey, Peeta, what’s wrong?” Silt asks, leaning forward, cupping my chin in his hand. 

“I just - I don’t -” I mutter as I can feel a tear slip down my cheek. 

“Why are you crying? It was perfect, I enjoyed it.” Silt says, moving closer to me. “You did everything just right.” 

“But it feels wrong.” I mutter, not able to hold back the tears now. 

“Why?” Silt asks, his fingertip swiping away one of the tears. “You showed me love and kindness and gratitude. What more could I wish for from a perfect boy like you?” 

“I don’t know.” I whisper, looking at him. “It’s just -” 

“It’s what, baby? Are you afraid that you are gay? Because loving another man out of gratitude doesn’t make you gay. It makes you a good person. A kind person.” Silt replies. “A person that deserves every little bit of peace and love that it can get.” 

“I guess I am just confused.” I reply. “I have never been so close to anyone. My family isn’t exactly a cuddly and friendly gathering.” 

“That doesn’t surprise me at all.” Silt replies, a tiny smile on his lips as he brings his face even closer to mine. “Ash and I were really close from the time we were little. He really loved me and we cuddled a lot. But if it is new for you, then it takes some getting used to. Just relax and don’t worry too much about it. Trust me.” 

“I trust you.” I mutter. “I think.”

Silt chuckles a little before he places his forehead against mine. 

“Don’t think, just do.” He mutters before he presses his lips to mine and I let him, too confused to anything else. His tongue finds its way into my mouth, dancing with my own and fighting for power. 

To my horror I feel a tingling down in my crotch. A sign that I somehow find this exciting even though I am terrified. It is weird and wrong and confusing as hell and worst of all, it doesn’t stop when Silt pulls back. 

“Let’s get dressed and then we can spend the rest of the day on the couch. Alright?” 

I quickly nod my head before I get up, using the towel to get rid of the last droplets of water before I move to the bedroom to get some fresh clothes. I try to breathe deeply, telling myself that it doesn’t matter. That there is nothing wrong. Thinking that if I say it often enough I will start to believe it. 

Silt can’t have wrong intentions. He is just used to being close to the people around him. He is used to being close with his brother, so maybe that means that he considers me as his brother. He might be the first truly decent brother I have in that case, since Rye is a douchebag over all and Bran is prone to making dumb decisions when he panics. 

After we both get dressed we settle down on the couch. Silt gets us some tea while I clutch my sketchbook in my hands. 

Silt opens his arms for me as he sits down beside me, telling me without words to come over and cuddle with him. For a moment I am scared that he might do something more than just hold me, before I realize that I am panicking. He just wants to hold me and comfort me like he has been doing for days. We always sit on the couch like this and nothing has ever happened. So why would this be any different? 

Slowly I scoot over to him, settling myself against his chest while I curl my legs under me. His arms circle around my chest as I soak in his warmth. 

“Can you show me the drawings you made yesterday?” Silt asks at which I nod my head. 

We slowly flip through the pages while Silt compliments me on my skill with a pencil. When we reach the drawings I did of my mom, he holds me a little tighter. 

“You are really afraid of her, aren’t you?” 

“I guess.” I reply. “I just have no clue what she wants most of the time. She beat me once because I served a customer in my dirty apron. She told me that she did not believe I had really had a customer. She told me that I was probably stealing from the register.” 

“Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even think she really believed that was true because she never brought it up again. She just needed a reason to hit me, I guess.” 

“That is just wrong, Peeta.” Silt tells me. “She shouldn’t be searching for reasons that, in her eyes, justify what she does to you. There is never enough reason to hurt you like she did.” 

“In her eyes there is.” 

“Well, she is wrong.” Silt says. “And she is not getting you back until she sees that. I won’t let her.” 

“I know.” I mutter, feeling a lot of conflicting emotions at his statement. I don’t want to go back home in this state, but I am also not really sure what Silt’s intentions are. 

And that scares me about the same amount as mom does.

Chapter Text

“Peeta?” Madge all but screams as soon as she see me walk up the schoolyard. “Where the hell have you been?” 

A small smile forms on my lips at her enthusiasm as I shrug my shoulders lightly. 

“What do you mean?” Onna asks. “Rye told us he was sick. You were there.” 

I see Delly roll her eyes so that only I can see her, ignoring Onna and her statement. 

“Well.” Madge starts until I interrupt her. 

“I was really sick.” I lie. “Couldn’t move for a week, as soon as I made my muscles work I puked my guts out.” 

“See?” Onna says. “You guys need to stop getting all suspicious and believe what people tell you for once in your lives. There was nothing wrong this whole time.” 

“Then why did Peeta walk here from the seam instead of the square?” Delly says, looking at Onna first before her gaze shifts to me. 

“Because I am staying with a friend of Bran’s for a little while.” 

“And why is that?” Delly asks as I see Madge’s eyes narrow beside me. 

“Because I am.” 

“That is not an answer.” Delly says. “It doesn’t explain a damn thing.” 

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.” I hiss. “I am staying with one of Bran’s friends and that is all you are going to hear about it!” 

Delly’s eyes grow big at the tone of my voice and just before she can reply, Madge shuts her up. 

“Let it go, Delly. He doesn’t want to talk about it. He is back at school, that is all that matters.” 

At that moment the school bell rings, telling us to go inside or we might get in trouble. We silently make our way to the first hour where the teacher tells me that he is more than happy to see me again. He jokes a little about being contagious but when I don’t smile he stops immediately. 

I pass the day in mostly silence. I follow the girls around to each of our classes and I react to their questions with just a couple of words but I don’t go beyond that. Some of the things they are talking about suddenly sound so meaningless and unimportant. Who the hell cares if another victor has had another scandalous affair? Or what kind of color is going to be all the rage next spring. And even minor things like how the school lunches get worse every year seem like they don’t matter anymore. 

The last week has changed so many things that I am not the same as I was when I last walked these halls. Something I can’t wrap my head around yet, but have to deal with either way. It doesn’t help that the only thing that happens when I pass Rye in the halls is that he will send me a death glare. He doesn’t even ask me how I am doing. 

When the end of the day nears, I make my way towards the gym for Wrestling practice. I just want to go to my locker to grab my stuff when I walk into a body that blocks my way. When I look up from the ground that I was focused on, I see Madge in front of me. Her arms crossed in front of her chest in a defensive stance. 

“We need to talk.” 

“No, we don’t.” I reply. “What I need is to get to practice because I missed last week.” 

“You still have half an hour before practice starts, plenty of time to talk to me.” 

“And why would I do that?” I hiss. 

“Because I need an explanation as to why you’ve taken out tesserae and I wanted to ask you before anyone else.” 

I freeze over in an instant as my eyes grow wide. How the fuck did she know that? I told the Mayor not to talk about it, so how does she know?

“And before you get any ideas. Dad didn’t tell me. I overheard him talk to my mother about it because he needed to get it off his chest. He made her promise not to tell anyone because he had promised you.” Madge tells me, reading my mind. “Care to tell me what happened now? Does your family even know you did that?”  

“No.” I sigh. “They don’t. And I don’t want them to know.” 

“Peeta, what happened?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Really, Peeta?” Madge huffs. “You are sick for a week, move out of your parents’ house to move in with a friend of your brother and then you take out tesserae? That does not sound like nothing to me.” 

“Why does it even matter?” I ask her. “Maybe I don’t want to talk about it. Maybe I want to keep this to myself because I don’t need my dirty laundry to become public knowledge! Don’t I have a right to keep things to myself?” 

“You do. Everyone does. But I am worried about you. I am worried big time.” Madge replies. “Last time we talked things weren’t so great at your place and then this happens. It is not that hard to worry when you know what I know.” 

“Fine.” I hiss. “Mom beat me big time last sunday. Bran took me out of the house and took me to this friend of his in the seam. He took care of me and I decided to stay. That’s it, the end.” 

“And the tesserae?” 

“I took it as a thank you and as a way to pay him for taking care of me.” 

“Did he ask you to do that?” 

“No, he didn’t. I did it myself and to be honest he wished I hadn’t!” I hiss as I try to turn around and walk away. 

“Peeta, stop.” Madge tries. 

“Why?” 

“Because you are not like you.” Madge replies. “You are cold and hard and the only thing you do is defend yourself and act like a closed book. What is happening?” 

“Fucking nothing, Madge!” I hiss. “Silt is taking good care of me! He is giving me a way more peaceful life than my parents ever could. So maybe you should just let it go and let me be. No need to worry anymore, I am safe and I am fine.” 

“Okay, Peeta. I’ll stop.” Madge says. “But can you at least tell me where this Silt lives so I can come visit you every once in a while?” 

“Last row near the fence, the single apartments number 15.” I mutter. “Can I go now?” 

Madge nods her head, trying to hide the worry in her face but not succeeding. She might have told me that she will let it go but I know that she won’t. Madge is a detective with a lot of things and this is no different. She won’t stop here, she will just tell me she will. 

I try to put it out of my head as I walk towards the gym lockers. I purposefully change with my back to the wall even though there are no teammates yet. I don’t want them to walk in and see the scars, not while they are still so fresh. 

Coach is already in the training hall laying down the mats when I walk in. He looks up in surprise but his frown soon turns to a smile as he sees me. 

“Peeta! It’s good to see you!”

“It’s good to be back, sir.” I reply. “Can’t wait to get back into action.” 

“I get that.” Coach says, a giant smile on his face. “Just be careful that you don’t overexert yourself. You’ve been sick for a week.” 

“I won’t, Coach.” 

And I don’t. I take it slowly even though I enjoy how good it feels to be truly active again. I love how my muscles burn and my breathing hitches just because my body is moving. After so many days of being basically immobile, it is a welcome change. 

I genuinely feel better when I walk towards the seam just before dinnertime. Silt is already there when I enter, cutting up some cabbage to use in whatever we are going to arrange for dinner. He looks up when I open the door, an instant smile on his face. 

“Hey Bright Eyes, how was your first day back?” 

“It was okay.” I reply. “Wrestling practice felt nice.” 

“I can imagine that.” Silt says. “I once tried out for the team, joined them for a year but then Ash died and I stopped. It was always nice to throw other people down though.”

“Yeah, it is.” I mutter, before I drop down my school bag and join him at the counter.

Ever since I became more mobile I took over all the cooking. Silt usually helps me to cut all of the ingredients he manages to get, but I am usually the one who makes something of the thrown together meal. 

“How was your day at the mines?” 

“Same as always. No accidents, just blasting our way through to the center of the earth.” 

“That makes it sound really bad.” I mutter. “Not really selling the job to me right now.” 

Silt chuckles. 

“I wouldn’t try to sell this job to anyone. It is a shitty job.” 

“Yeah, that is probably true.” I mutter, smiling lightly myself. 

It is weird to have these conflicting emotions run through my body. Silt hasn’t mentioned yesterday morning and he has been nothing but kind and comforting since then. A part of me wonders if I just keep overreacting because I am not used to it. Another part of me wonders if Silt is the one who is wrong, even though my brain sends those thoughts to the back of my mind pretty fast. I don’t want to think about that. I have to believe that Silt will keep me safe in every sense of the world. 

Once we are finished with eating dinner and sit down on the couch, I notice how exhausted the day at school has made me. It might have been only a week but the physical recovery has hurt me more than I imagined. It is almost like the energy I had built up over the years has been diminished by one week in bed. 

Just an hour after dinner I am half asleep on the couch, leaning against Silt like we always do. I feel my eyes get drowsy and when they close I sink into a blissfully dreamless sleep. 

I vaguely recall that Silt lifts me up and carries me to the bed before he loses my outer layers of clothing. I am not even truly sure if I notice that he not only loses my jeans and sweater, but also the shirt I usually keep on in bed. I do notice and am wide awake in one go when his fingers touch the waistband of my underwear and drag them down my hips. 

My hands fly out to his, grabbing his wrists in an attempt to stop him. 

“Shh, baby. It’s okay.” Silt whispers, as he places a soft kiss on my pelvis. “I am not going to hurt you, I am just going to say thank you for yesterday.” 

“You already did.” I whisper, feeling frozen. “You’ve thanked me enough.΅ 

“Oh baby, it’s okay.” Silt mutters as one of his hands pries mine loose from his wrists. “Just let it happen.”

“I don’t want it to -” I mutter before I breathe in sharply when his hand wraps around my penis. 

“It is okay to want it, baby. It is okay to let it happen and enjoy it.” 

“I don’t enjoy -” I say before I am stopped by another sharp inhale when he wraps his lips around the tip of my penis. 

I can no longer stop the tears from flowing after that. Something inside of me tells me that this is definitely not normal anymore. No matter what upbringing he had, this is not how you are supposed to treat your brothers. 

I hate it that my body reacts to his touch, to his tongue and the warmth around my penis. Not getting an erection is impossible but that same erection gives Silt the motivation to go on. He starts sucking more eagerly as I lay there frozen and numb. 

“Silt, please.” I manage to mutter, but he doesn’t seem to hear me. He keeps sucking and pulling until my skin starts to tingle, it is like there are a thousand tiny pops under my skin that want to get out. My back arches because I don’t want to let this happen. I don’t want this to be the first time I experience an orgasm, if that is indeed what is about to happen. I don’t want that to be with Silt. 

But I can’t stop it. It happens. And I moan loudly when it does. 

I have to close my eyes as the sobs start to break free from my throat. My whole chest moves with pain and humiliation as I want nothing more than to disappear. I don’t want to be here anymore, with my legs that feel like jelly and my body that betrays me. 

Silt notices my distress right away, crawling up the bed and taking me in his arms. Making me awfully aware that he is naked and hard. Not that there is anything I can do about that, not in my current state. 

“Shh, baby. It’s okay.” Silt mutters, kissing my hair. “I know this can be confusing, trust me, I know. Let it happen, baby. It’s okay to cry, just let it happen.” 

“Go away!” I manage to mutter. “Leave me fucking alone.” 

“Oh come on, baby. You are just confus-” 

“I am not fucking confused!” I shout, pushing at his arms to let me go. “Let me go!” 

I try to push him away but I soon learn that he is stronger, using his strength to push my arms up over my head. He leans over me, his face extremely close to mine, which scares the shit out of me. 

“You need to fucking stop, Peeta!” Silt hisses. “You need to fucking stop struggling and listen to me.” 

“Please!” I beg him as my arms grow tired. 

“Oh fucking stop whining. There is nothing wrong.” Silt hisses. “Don’t act like something is wrong all of a sudden. Yesterday you were fine. Yesterday you gave me a handjob and nothing was wrong, it was all perfectly fine and peaceful. So don’t act like a spoiled little brat when I return the favor.” 

“This isn’t normal!” 

“I don’t fucking give a shit about what is normal or not. You are living under my roof and by my rules. I have been kind to you, I have given you food and shelter and comfort. And this is how you repay me? By reacting like this when I want to get to know you better?” Silt says, my wrists locked in one of his hands while his other hand strokes my cheek. “I thought we were on the same page, yesterday we were.” 

“Yesterday was different.” 

“And why is that?” 

“Because yesterday I -” I mutter, not sure how to say it. 

“Yesterday you? What? Enjoyed it?” Silt asks, smiling at me. “Are you a little gun shy when it comes to your penis? Let me assure you that it is a nice one. There is nothing wrong with it.” 

“That’s not it.” I reply. “It’s just - I don’t know how to feel about this! I am not used to any of this, it feels wrong and dirty and I don’t want it.” 

“Oh but baby.” Silt mutters, his hand playing with the curls in my neck. “This isn’t wrong. This is how you show me how much you appreciate my help. This is me showing you comfort. It sometimes gets a little dirty but that is nothing that a wet towel can’t fix.” 

“You don’t get -” 

“No, I do, Peeta. I do get it.” Silt mutters. “This is new and scary and no one has ever taught you that this is perfectly okay. I didn’t realize it would be so confusing to you but we will figure it out. I will teach you and tell you what to do. You’ll be perfect in no time.” 

“It isn’t normal, Silt. It is wrong.” I tell him, looking into his eyes. “Please, please, stop.” 

“Or what?” Silt ask, staring at me intently. The tone of his voice turning around 180 degrees. “You are going to tell someone?” 

“I -” 

“What are they going to say, Peeta? What are you going to tell them?” Silt asks. “Are you going to risk your reputation? Your family's reputation? Your life? Because I can assure you that being gay in this district isn’t a walk in the park.” 

“I am not gay.” 

Silt smiles at me, an evil hint lurking around the corner. 

“You might know that, but the rest of the district doesn’t. Your parents don’t, your classmates. Even your precious, perfect Katniss might think that you are when you tell the world about your adventures with me.” Silt replies. “What do you think will happen when you tell everyone that you kissed a boy? That you were sucked off by a boy? That you gave that boy a handjob, willingly?” 

“I -” 

“Besides, where will you go? Back to the bakery? Where your mom will hate you even more for ruining the family name? You have no place to go, Peeta. No place you belong, but here.” 

A sinking feeling settles in my stomach. A feeling of dread and hurt. A feeling of loneliness and betrayal. Another tear slips down my face, which Silt wipes away. 

“I know, baby. I know.” He mutters. “So here is what we are going to do. You and I are going to explore this path together and you are going to keep your mouth shut or I will throw you out like trash. Okay?”

I give him a tiny nod, almost too afraid to agree. 

“Good.” He whispers, placing a soft peck on my mouth. “Now I am going to let go of your hands and you are going to make me happy.” 

“How?” 

“Just with your hand, love. I would like a repeat of yesterday.” 

I nod my head as he gets off of me, laying down next to me on the bed. As he pulls me into his arms, I let my hand move downward.  I take a deep breath as my fingers trace a path over his lower abdomen. I close my eyes tightly as I can feel his curly pubic hair against my fingertips. Forcing myself to move on, to just do it. 

“Go on, baby. You can do this.” 

I don’t think when I wrap my hands around the soft skin of his penis and start moving. 

And as I close my eyes even tighter I can only think about how the hell I got here. 

Chapter Text

I don’t think I really sleep for the rest of the night. Not with the way that Silt has pressed his naked body against mine. Not with the way that I feel his penis press against my backside even if it is only flaccid. I just can’t seem to wrap my head around what just happened. What I let happen. 

When Silt’s alarm goes off I am still wide awake, staring at the darkness in front of me. 

“Goodmorning, Bright Eyes.” Silt mutters, placing a couple of kisses in my neck. “You need to get up and get ready to go to school.” 

“I know.” I whisper, my tears close to the surface like they have been for hours. 

“Hey, baby? What’s wrong?” Silt asks, perking up in his elbow which allows my body to roll flat on its back. “Why are you crying?” 

“I am not.” I mutter, turning my head away from his gaze. 

His hand stops me from moving though, grabbing my chin lightly and turning it towards him. 

“But you are on the verge of tears.” Silt says, studying me intently. “Talk to me, Peeta.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I want to know what is going on. I am taking care of every part of you.” Silt replies. “Can’t have you on the verge of tears without reason.” 

“It’s just -” I lie. “I haven’t slept well and I am not looking forward to school. It felt awkward to be there again yesterday. Everyone had these questions about why I was sick and my friend from town wanted to know where I had been.” 

“What did you tell them?” 

“That I was staying with one of Bran’s friends because of reasons they did not need to know.” 

“Well, that can stay your answer then. It is a good and solid answer.” Silt mutters. “Now we should really get out of bed.” 

“I know.” I mutter, expecting him to let me go and get up. But he doesn’t. He keeps holding me as I start to struggle a little to get away. 

“Give me a kiss.”

“What?” 

“Give me a kiss and I’ll let you go.” 

I debate it for a second before I reach my hands up to grab his neck and press my lips against his. It is not like it is something new and it is easier to just get it over with than to let it linger. 

Silt smiles brightly when he pulls back before his hands disappear and I am free to get up. When I do I become acutely aware that I am still naked. I quickly grab some clean clothes out of the closet before I hurry towards the bathroom. I want to lock the door behind me more than I ever wanted before, but Silt has no locks. I’ll just have to be quick. 

That mindset immediately stops when I am faced with my reflection in the mirror. The same boy that I’ve known for years is looking back at me, but it still feels like I am a different person. The look in my eyes has changed. From this lively, always present kind to a numb and empty one. Like nothing matters anymore. 

Quite frankly I am not even sure if I know what does matter right now. Everything seems minor to what Silt did and said last night. It feels like everything is too far out of my reach. No matter what it is. Especially my free choice seems to be held down by a big, thick, iron chain, leaving me with no choice but to follow what everyone tells me to do. Or what Silt tells me to do, mostly. 

He has me right where he wants me to be and that scares me shitless. 

I quickly turn away from the mirror, not wanting to look this strange empty boy in the eye any longer. After I get dressed I make us both some breakfast and when Silt leaves and asks me to kiss him, I do it. Nothing to fight left in me to tell him that I don’t want to. 

As I make my way to the schoolyard, more and more in me tells me that I should turn around. That I can’t show my face in school or everyone will know. I must be able to put up a poker face that resembles the boy I was, especially if Silt is going to make it worse. As long as I haven’t developed that poker face, I can’t go. Or I might end up as the hopeless homeless boy that has nowhere to go because no one wants him.

Just before I reach the path towards the school, I stop. I can’t go. There is no way that I can hide this from anyone, let alone Madge. She will notice and she won’t stop asking until she knows the truth, which I can’t tell her. Not if I want to keep my place with Silt. 

Before I even really think about it, I make a turn to walk up the path that leads to a more forested area between the seam and victor’s village. I walk all the way up to the fence before I sit down against a tree. There are a couple of houses nearby but I am hidden from sight by some bushes. If I don’t make a sound, no one will know I am there. 

I breathe out deeply before I can no longer hold back the tears. I basically start sobbing, feeling lost and lonely and so stupid. Why did I get myself in this mess? Why did I let it go this far? Why didn’t I listen to all the signals my mind was giving me? All the little hints that I ignored because I trusted him. 

Was this his plan all along? To get me dependent on him? To get me to willingly agree because all the other options had disappeared? Or am I just a victim of opportunity? A victim because I turned up on his doorstep lost and vulnerable? 

It makes it even harder that I have absolutely no clue what to do. I wish I could tell someone. Go to the bakery’s back door and ask Bran to listen to me. But I can’t. If Bran finds out, my family will too. Not because Bran can’t keep a secret but because it would be impossible to explain. 

Mom would never believe that I came back on my own. She would want an explanation as to why I stayed away and why I decided to return home right at that moment. And returning wouldn’t exactly keep me safe either. I might be safe from Silt’s wandering hands, but I won’t be from mom’s. 

Telling someone else will even be worse. If I trust Madge with my secret I am 100 percent sure that it will get out. She would go on and do what is in her eyes best for me, even if that goes against my wishes. Which would probably mean that I would get a visit from the peacekeepers and the story would get out, as all things in Twelve. 

Everyone will think I am gay. And everyone will despise me for it. There is a reason both Bran and Silt are keeping it a secret. There is a reason why most gay men in our district eventually marry a woman. If you ask some people, there aren’t any gay people in district Twelve. That fact is highly unlikely but some people aren’t worried about how true a statement is. 

Bran once told me that it used to be different. That it is in fact different in other Districts and the Capitol. Before the dark days it was perfectly normal to be gay. People accepted it and there were even gay couples that would adopt or get children through some kind of medical treatment. But when the dark days happened, District Twelve was thrown back a lot more than just a few years. It was almost like we went back hundreds and hundreds of years. In both industries and social skills. 

It must also have grown out of a necessity to survive. Gay couples don’t produce children and children are what we need a lot of in Twelve. Our population is so low that every child is very welcome, so people have a lot. Including the few spare ones that don’t survive harsh winters or periods of starvation. 

And the chosen few that are lost to the games.

So being gay was technically working against that. Which made it harder for young girls and boys to be honest with their parents. 

Which leads to boys like Silt. Boys that become frustrated and search for other means to feel better. 

I huff in frustration when the tears don’t want to stop falling. I need to man up. I need to get a grip and figure out a way to deal with this. Telling someone isn’t an option so I will have to endure it. I will have to pretend that I am perfectly happy and that nothing is wrong, that nothing changed in the last couple of weeks and that nothing will change. I just have to be the perfect actor for both Silt and the outside world. 

No one can know. It has to be my little secret. It is just a matter of developing the perfect poker face. The perfect mask to hide behind when it gets though. It is not like I haven’t been hiding some secrets for the past couple of years. Mom and dad both told me to keep mom’s ‘anger issues’ out of the loop and I’ve succeeded on that pretty well. 

It is just a matter of becoming the boy I was again. Or pretending I am that boy because becoming him seems long gone. Maybe I should even be a more cheery version of myself. Someone who people truly believe is okay. Someone likable and kind who always smiles. 

I just have to close a couple of doors in my head. Hide the memories and feelings and lock them away so no one can come close. I should be able to do that, if I try hard enough. 

The rest of the day I go over the various options for me to get more numb and happier at the same time. By the time I can hear the schoolbell in the distance, I have come up with a plan that involves a whole lot of letting things happen and deal with the aftermath instead of fighting and dealing with that. 

Silt doesn’t really come off as violent, but I am not going to risk it. If I end up with bruises again, I might not be able to hide anything. Madge will surely notice and we can’t have that. This secret has to remain even more secretive than the one I was keeping before. 

It does help that when I arrive home, Silt isn’t there yet. He has switched back to his normal shifts now that I am going to school again, which gives me a few precious hours alone. I start cutting up the potatoes and when I get the water boiling to cook them, I sit down at the table with my sketch book. 

Looking through the sketches I made, I see a lot of ‘happy’ ones involving Silt. They are all covered in light shading and there are smiles everywhere. That was before I knew what I know now. If I had to draw them now I would draw them like the ones I drew of mom. Dark and shaded, with an angry scowl and a raised hand. 

I quickly flip to an empty page and start drawing. I am not even thinking about it really when I see the Silt of last night appear on the page. His naked shoulders, the evil glint in his smile. Somehow you could look at it and see a happy picture, or you can look at it and see an evil one. If only you know what to look for. 

When the door opens I quickly close the sketchbook. Not wanting Silt to see what I have been working on, or see the evil that can be seen in the drawing if you look closely. 

Silt has a bright smile on his face as he walks in. 

“Hey, bright eyes.” He says. “Come here.” 

I want to struggle and refuse but I just decided that afternoon that I wasn’t going to struggle out of self preservation. So instead of protesting and telling him I don’t want to, I get up and walk towards him. 

His arms circle around my neck as he presses his lips to mine. It lasts for quite a while until he pulls back and strokes the curls away from my forehead. 

“I like that.” He mutters, biting the corner of his lip. “How about you kiss me everytime I come home or leave the house, hmm? And every other time I ask, of course.” 

“Yeah, fine.” I mutter, looking down at his neck instead of his eyes. 

“Hey, don’t do that.” Silt replies, placing his fingers under my chin to lift my eyes on his face. “Don’t act like a groggy teenager.” 

“But I am a groggy teenager.” 

“Fair enough.” Silt replies, a hint of playfulness in his voice that sends shivers down my spine. “What are you cooking?” 

“Just the potatoes.” I mutter. “I still need to do the rest.” 

“Well, let’s get to it then.” 

When we both move over to the kitchen counter, Silt starts asking about my day. I pretend that I went to school and that it was boring, too afraid to tell him that I spend a big part of the day crying against a tree and trying to come up with a miracle cure for all my problems. 

I can feel the tension build inside me as the evening draws nearer. Going to bed scares the hell out of me because of the basic fear of what Silt might do. What will he ask me - No, tell me to do this time? 

While we cuddle on the couch I can feel the tension become worse and worse and worse. I think Silt notices it too but has decided to not say anything about it. He doesn’t even say anything when he pushes against my back, gets up and reaches his hand out to me. I reluctantly take his hand as he leads me to the bedroom. 

Silt is naked before I can even think about getting undressed and when he presses himself against my back I can clearly feel his erection. 

“Let me help you with that.” He mutters, taking the hem of my sweater and dragging it upward along with my shirt, causing me to wrap my arms around myself. Silt either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care because he immediately moves to my jeans, opening the belt and the buckle before slipping them down my hips. His fingers also hook behind the waistband of my boxers which makes me close my eyes. 

“Get on the bed, hot stuff.” Silt mutters in my ear before he pushes me forward onto the bed. 

I do as I am told, turning around to lie down on my back. 

“Spread your legs.” Silt mutters, which makes me instantly freeze and close them even tighter than I was. 

“Wait.” I tell him, going against my own let-it-happen order. “I don’t think I can do that.” 

“Can do what?” 

“Uhm - that.” I mutter, not sure if I can tell him what I fear. 

“What do you think we are going to do?” Silt says, chuckling softly as he crawls on the bed. His hands moving towards my thighs and pushing them away from each other. 

“You know -” 

“No, I don’t.” Silt replies, smiling evilly while one of his hands moves to stroke my penis. “What are you thinking about?” 

I grunt in frustration as I try to get my mind to just say it. To just blurt it out so he will talk to me instead of do this. 

“I am not ready for sex!” I shout. “Like actual, real sex. Going all the way. That.” 

“Oh.” Silt mutters. “You thought we were going to do that so early on?” 

“I don’t know!” I reply. “I don’t know what you want and when!” 

“Oh baby, chill. I do want to do that but you can’t just start without the proper preparation.” 

“Oh.” I mutter, not sure what else to reply. “So you won’t -” 

“Fuck you? No baby boy. Not yet.” Silt replies as one of his fingers moves from my penis towards my asshole. “We are going to try something new though.” 

“Something new?” 

“Yeah.” Silt mutters as he gets up to reach inside his nightstand. He takes out a small bottle that looks like some kind of oil. He opens it and puts some of it on his fingers before he moves back to me, his fingers returning towards my ass. 

“Now it is important that you relax as we try that. That way it won’t hurt as much or maybe not at all. It also helps when you press down like you need to poop.” 

“What are you going to do?” 

“I am going to open you up a bit. If we do that for a couple of days, you will be ready in no time.” He smiles. “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt if we go slow.” 

That doesn’t do a damn thing to stop my wandering mind. I don’t want him in there. I never have and I never will. But that is not an option. 

What if this is truly the best way to go? I mean, he doesn’t have to be gentle. He doesn’t have to wait. Maybe he knows what is best because he has done it before. 

“Did you do this with Bran?” I ask, which makes Silt look up with a hint of surprise on his face. 

“Why?” 

“No reason.” I mutter. “Just interested if you’ve done this before.” 

“I have, babe. No worries. Just not with Bran.” 

I look up at him at that revelation. 

“Why not?” 

“Bran never let me. He was always too scared that it would hurt and he was going on about saving himself for marriage and that kind of stuff. So we never got farther than some jerking and sucking.” 

So he had never done this with his boyfriend but he wants to do it with me? Somehow that feels wrong. It feels very wrong and very unfair. Because Bran had a choice. He told Silt he did not want to do it, and Silt didn’t. But I don’t have that choice. I just have to lay there and take it. I just have to tell him it is okay while I know that I don’t want to. 

“You are more special though.” Silt tells me. “You are way more important to me than Bran.” 

That does not make things any better. In fact it only makes them worse. Way worse. Bran was his boyfriend, they loved each other. They could be themselves with each other. I always thought they were soulmates. 

And now Silt just blatantly tells me that his relationship with Bran was nothing. That I am more special than what they shared. That I am more special than the years and years of friendship. 

“Now bare down, baby.” Silt mutters. “Bare down and relax.” 

I try to comply. I try it. But the fear of what he is going to do is overwhelming. The fear of pain and discomfort and hurt and humiliation. In the end I think that it hurts my feelings more than it hurts my body. It hurts the real me. 

The whole process of sliding in is uncomfortable and when his fingernail scratches the side it hurts. But it isn’t as bad as I might have thought it would be and it definitely does not compare to the aching feeling in my chest. 

“God, you are amazing.” Silt mutters as he slides his finger all the way inside. “You are so perfect.” 

I don’t feel perfect. I feel disgusting and dirty and gross. He might think I am perfect but I only think about how I want this to end while I know that it won’t.

Chapter Text

The next couple of days, I start working on regaining my routine. Or at least coming as close to it as I can, missing the bakery parts and adding the cooking and the late night demands. 

I try to not let those demands face me too much. Holding on to the promise Silt gave me that he wouldn’t rush it but let me get used to it. A promise that he has held so far, opening me up a little more every night before asking me to suck him off, but never going farther than that. 

So even though I am dreading the moment he is going to think I am ready, I try to move on and not think about it too much. It takes a couple of days before Madge backs off a little, finally getting the message that I don’t want to talk about it. 

Normally I would say that baking is one of my outlets next to drawing, but with that gone I focus more and more on wrestling practice. Being more active, running extra laps after training and even doing some more weight training to be able to stay longer.

Coach notices it after a few days. He must think that I have found this new motivation, he doesn’t need to know that it really is just a way to stall having to go home and face Silt and his demands. 

“What are you planning to do with all that extra training time?” Coach asks on the third day of my new regime. 

“Not sure yet.”  I mutter, putting down one of the weights in the training hall. 

“Then why are you doing it? Why did you change what you were doing into this?” Coach asks. “Did something happen?”

I have always been able to be honest with Coach in a way. He never knew about mom but he could always guess when something was wrong. He might have even seen some bruises during training but he never asked me about it. He never forced me to tell him how I got them. Maybe I can be a little honest with him. Just a little. 

“My parents and I had a fight so my older brother Bran arranged for me to stay with one of his friends in the Seam. I guess I am just trying to figure out a way to spend my time now that I don’t have to help mom and dad in the bakery.” 

“I’m sorry, Peeta. Is there anything I can do?” Coach asks with a sincere look on his face. 

“No, not really.” I reply. “Maybe it is a good thing to be away from home for a little while. It gives us all time to cool off.” 

“Okay.” Coach mutters, not sounding really satisfied with my answer. “Are you okay with me helping you with this new enthusiasm for training though?”

“I might.” I reply, picking up a dumbbell. “It kind of depends on where you want to go.” 

“Well, Peeta. I am not going to lie to you, you are really talented. You could go a long way if you can keep it up.”  

“A long way? How?” 

“There is a scholarship program for teenagers from the districts. Every year there is one spot for a district boy or girl that shows exceptional skills in their chosen sport. We’ve never had anyone from Twelve that was talented and determined enough to make it, but I think that you might have what it takes.” 

I laugh a little. Not believing a word he says. 

“Rye would love something like that, why haven’t you asked him? He must be even more talented than me.”  

“He isn’t, Peeta. He can only beat you because he is older and stronger, not because he has more skill or more talent. If we take this seriously you might be able to beat him within two years, maybe even in one.”  

Coach really seems to believe I am able to do that. He really seems to believe that I am somehow more talented in wrestling than Rye. 

“Why would I even want this scholarship?” 

“Because it is a ticket out of here. The receiver of the scholarship can go to University in the Capitol. The winner is getting out of here. The winner won’t be forced to go into the mines and die young.” 

“I am from town.” I mutter. 

“You are the third son from a family from town. You know as well as I do that your future does not lie in the bakery.” Coach replies. “So why not give yourself a plan b?” 

He has a good point. I never wanted to think about the premise of the third son. I never wanted to think about the fact that I probably would become the one townboy in the generation that would end up in the mines. The one boy that is the spare for the spare that would only get a role in the family business in case one of the other sons somehow loses his life. 

“You really think I can win it?” I mutter, looking at Coach with a different interest. 

“I think you are the only one I have ever coached that has a chance against the careers from One and Two.” 

“They usually win these things?” 

“They train for the games, so they are physically fit. If they can’t get fame through volunteering, they try out for this. Just like the games they win almost every year. I think it is time to prove them wrong.” 

“And how do you propose to do that?” I ask. “Say I want to try it. What would it entail?” 

A glimmer of hope shines on his face. Like I suddenly gave him a new purpose in life. A new goal to fight for. 

“We would up your training schedule. Let you train four or five times a week. They would also get longer, more cardio, more strength. I would also like to put you in the upper class competition.”

“But that means I wrestle Rye.” 

“Yes, that means wrestling Rye. He is the top contender right now. If you want a shot you need to at least be the highest ranked wrestler in the district.” 

“Then let’s make sure that is me.” 

The next few days we go over several options for my training. Coach tells me that back before the dark days people even used to match their food to their training habits. All to make sure they would get as strong as they could to be at their best. We don’t have that luxury now, but the careers don’t either. It simply isn’t as easy to get a meal plan going with specific foods when most of the district is happy if they can eat anything at all. 

We do come up with a new training routine which involves training with the older boys, including Rye. Which scares me at first until I realize how much time away from Silt it gives me. Coach even wants me to run on either saturday or sunday, which could be a perfect way to spend some time away from the toxicity of the house. 

When I breach the subject with Silt, he reacts enthusiastically. Telling me that he would have loved to have an opportunity like that and that he has always believed in my talent and skill. I am not even sure he notices that it is mostly a coping mechanism. A way to deal with his abuse in my own way. 

Or he does and he is happy that I choose this way instead of walking around the district like a deer in the headlights. 

I soon notice that the training starts to change me. It gives me this new kind of peace, this new kind of way to think about life and what it brings me. Knowing that I am getting stronger gives me more confidence. Confidence that I am worth something. 

Confidence that I will be able to fight Silt and win in due time. 

It even makes it easier to deal with Silt’s growing demands. He is stretching me further and further every day and I am very aware of the fact that he might deem me ready sooner than I want him to. I always feel numb when I walk around the house. Always on edge to jump into action when he asks me to do something. 

I am almost on autopilot. Walking around in just my underwear whenever Silt asks me to. Kissing him when he arrives and leaves. Even undressing and laying down with my legs spread as soon as he cocks his head in the general direction of the bedroom. 

While I am fighting more and more outside the house, I am fighting less inside of it. As soon as I step over the threshold I lose all the fight I had in me. I just comply and follow his directions to a tee. 

There could be no bigger difference between my two worlds. In one I am quickly becoming stronger and more self assured, in the other I become more and more subdued. Shrinking into a shadow of myself. I don’t even recognize myself when I look in the mirror. 

It isn’t a surprise and it is at the same time when I come home Saturday night after I’ve taken a run and he is already sitting on the couch. He is wearing just his underwear, a little smear of coal dust on his bare chest. 

He smiles brightly at me as I freeze in the doorway, suddenly too scared to walk into the house. 

Is this it? Is this the moment he has decided I am ready? 

“Come here, hot stuff.” Silt mutters, sliding his hand into his boxers. 

I swallow heavily, feeling like he is nailing my coffin shut with his words. My feet move almost on autopilot, walking towards him while every bone in my body screams to stop walking. To just turn around and run away. 

“Strip for me, baby.” He mutters, licking his lips in the process. 

“Are you -” I try, before Silt interrupts me. 

“Less talking, more doing.” 

I give him a shaky nod before I move my trembling hands to the hem of my shirt. Lifting it up and over my head as I try to keep breathing. As I try to go numb and let my mind go blank. 

There is an instant wave of goosebumps as soon as I am in front of him half naked. I want to throw my arms around myself and hide my body from him but I am scared to make him mad. I am scared to not obey him and what that might mean for what is going to happen tonight. Maybe he will get angry and in result rough and I don’t think I am ready to face that. 

So instead of freezing and hiding, I move my hands to the waistband of my jeans. I don’t even bother opening the button. I just slide them down my hips, taking my underwear with it just to get it over with. If I do it in one go, I won’t have to think about it again. 

My jeans and underwear pool at my ankles before I step out of them towards Silt. I feel totally and utterly humiliated to stand in front of him like this. He shouldn’t see me like this, even though he has before. He has had me in his bed like this in the most compromising positions before, but still this feels way more intrusive than those moments in the darkness of his bedroom. 

“God, you are so perfect, baby.” Silt mutters, reaching out his free hand to me which I quietly take. “Kneel down, baby boy.” 

I almost immediately drop to my knees, kneeling beside the couch naked as the day I was born. I want to bend my head in embarrassment but Silt’s fingers under my chin prevent me from doing so. 

“Don’t be scared, Peeta. If I didn’t think you were ready we wouldn’t be doing this.” Silt mutters, leaning forward before he places a soft kiss on my lips. “We are just going to take it slow. No need to rush and no need to panic.” 

“It’s just -” I mutter. 

“It’s just what?” Silt asks. 

“What if it hurts?” I blurt out, telling him about one of my biggest fears. “What if I freeze up and make it worse?” 

“I can’t promise it won’t.” Silt replies. “But I’ll try my best to help you. We’ll make it work together.” 

That somehow doesn’t calm my mind. I don’t want him to help me, I want him to rethink his actions and not do it. I want him to realize that I am not willing. That I don’t want him to rape me, because that is basically what it will be. 

It will be rape, won’t it? I am not consenting, or am I? It is not exactly like I have been saying no these last couple of days. It is not exactly like I have been trying to stop him from getting me ready for this. 

So maybe it isn’t really rape. Maybe it is just sex. Just sex that I rolled into without fighting all that much. 

Maybe it could have been different if I had said something earlier. Maybe it could have been different if I had told someone when he touched me for the first time. 

But I didn’t, and now I have to deal with the consequences of that. It is all my own fault and now I just have to bear it. 

“Why don’t you start with getting me hard? The harder the better.” Silt mutters, kissing my cheek before I nod my head slightly and move towards his crotch. 

I take his boxers in both my hands before I slowly and seductively drag them down, just like he taught me a couple of nights ago, before I move back up and take his already hard penis in my hand. 

He moans in pleasure when I move my hand up and down a few times before he lets out a content sigh when I take his tip into my mouth. He had taken his sweet time to teach me how to suck him off these last two weeks giving me pointers and feedback until he finally told me I was becoming an excellent sucker two nights ago. Apparently I am a fast learner. 

His hand settles into my curls as I start to bob my head up and down his cock, trying desperately to take him as far into my throat as I can before my gag reflex kicks in. 

He has his eyes closed in pleasure, his mouth half open and moans escaping him every once in a while. 

For a moment I have the hopes that if I do a well enough job, I might be able to get him to cum before he even has a chance to fuck me. But that hope quickly fades when he grabs my hair tightly and basically pulls me off his cock. 

“God, that was so good. But I can’t cum yet, pretty boy. I want to cum in a different hole than this one.” Silt mutters, his eyes half closed. “So why don’t you get that pretty ass on my bed? Hands and knees will do the trick.” 

My body starts to tremble as I try to comply with his wishes. I slowly get up before my shaking legs carry me to the bedroom. The bed feels like a monster, I don’t want to get closer to it, but I know that I have to. I know that there is no other option even though it feels like the sheets are going to swallow me whole. 

I have to hold back my tears as I crawl onto the bed, grabbing one of the pillows to hold close to my chest. Basically hugging it in a search for comfort. Hugging it to try and deal with the tension and dread I feel in my body. The dread and fear that only gets worse when I hear Silt’s footsteps behind me. 

I bury my nose in the pillow, trying to go numb as I feel the bed dip under his weight. As I feel his hands on my hips, dragging them upward so I am leaning on my knees. 

“Relax, Peeta. You are way too tense.” 

No shit, sherlock. Why do you think I am so tense?

I don’t say that though. Instead I just try to breathe, try to relax more. I try but I doubt that I will succeed. 

It only gets worse when I hear the sound of the bottle of oil, when I feel his fingers against my ass. This is nothing new, but the prospect of what it is going to lead to is pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe. 

Silt pushes his fingers in slowly and to my horror it doesn’t even hurt, it feels uncomfortable but my body is used to a certain kind of stretch. He doesn’t stall long, bringing me up a couple of fingers within minutes before he pulls them all out. 

“You are ready, baby.” Silt mutters. “And you are so perfect.” 

I try to ignore him. I try to ignore the fact that he is moving behind me. Moving onto his knees, moving to ruin my life even more. I close my eyes tightly, trying to black everything out. Every feeling, every sensation. Just everything. 

I am successful only for a little while because my defenses break the moment I feel the slick head of his penis against my sphincter. I instantly crumble, I instantly want to curl up and cry. But I can’t. 

“Breathe, baby. Breathe.” 

There is nothing else that I can do but bear it. There is nothing I can do but squeeze my eyes closed as the pain radiates through my lower body. Silt moans in ecstasy, what feels like hell to me must be heaven for him.  

Once he is fully seated he takes a little break, letting me adjust to the full feeling that overwhelms me. After about a minute in which he strokes my lower back in comfort, he starts moving, making me moan and grunt in discomfort. 

“That’s it, bright eyes. That. Is. It.” 

His words make my heart sink. This isn’t it and it never will be. Not for me. 

As he keeps pounding into me, I can no longer hold back the tears that have been pressing against my eyelids ever since I walked through the door. The pillow beneath me gets wet within seconds as a sob rips free from my throat, letting all the fear and sorrow out as Silt ruins my life.

Chapter Text

The warm water sloshes around us as I stare at the kitchen wall. Silt is behind me, my body in between his spread legs leaning against his naked chest. The fingers of his right hand are slowly stroking my lower belly while the fingers of his left are playing with the curls on my head. Every once in a while he places a soft kiss on the side of my head. 

I just feel numb. Numb and tired. 

Silt fell asleep right away after he told me a thousand times how absolutely perfect I was and how he enjoyed my body so, so much. He fell asleep but I didn’t. I stared at the darkness around us the whole night while Silt’s arms around my torso felt like a trap and the aching pain in my butt seemed to distract me every few minutes. 

The whole night my mind had been wandering. Thinking about all the mistakes I made to end up here. Thinking about all the things I could have done to make sure this did not happen. All the things that seem useless now. There is no turning back, no undoing what has been done. He has forever tainted me. 

“What are you thinking about?” Silt mutters.

“Nothing.” I reply, looking away from the wall and focussing on my own hands in my lap. 

“Peeta, don’t lie to me.” 

“What do you want me to say?” I reply. “That I enjoyed it?” 

Silt sighs heavily. 

“No, I know you didn’t. I did notice that you were crying and I still remember my own first time bottoming.” Silt replies. “I do know that it gets better though. If you can relax enough, it will get more enjoyable.” 

“I don’t think I ever want to do that again.” I mutter, feeling Silt’s body tense behind me. 

“I don’t care what you think or want.” He harshly replies. “You’ll need to get used to it.” 

“Why ask what I am thinking when you are not going to listen?” 

“I am listening, baby. I am just telling you that I don’t agree and that I am not going to stop.” Silt replies, sounding angry. “And where the fuck did you get that attitude? I don’t like it.” 

“Sorry.” I mutter. “I am just tired. That’s all.” 

“Just tired or?” 

“What else should there be?” I ask him, freezing over when I feel his hand moving towards my pubic hair. 

“Well, I can imagine that your ass is sore.” He replies, placing another kiss against the side of my head, his demeanor changing 180 degrees from only a few seconds ago. “Or that your balls hurt from how hard you came last night.” 

His hand slowly snakes towards my crotch, taking my balls in his hands and juggling them slightly which makes my breathing catch. For a moment I don’t know how to reply to his actions. Yes, my ass is sore but I don’t want him to focus his attention on that. I quite frankly just want to forget about my ass for the moment. 

“Just a little.” I mutter. “The warmth of the bath helps though.” 

“Good. That is good.” Silt mutters, sniffing my neck as his fingers trail over my flaccid penis and back up to my chest. “I can’t wait to devour you again. You are so gorgeous.” 

I remain silent. Not really sure if I should reply to his words. He might see it as a compliment, I see it as something that makes me sick. 

“Who would have guessed.” He mutters. ”That I would end up loving my ex-boyfriend's little brother.” 

Yeah, who knew. 

I suddenly feel the urge to ask him why. To ask him if he always wanted me or if I am just a victim of opportunity. 

“Silt?” 

“Hmm?” 

“When did you decide that you wanted this?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“When did you decide you were going to - seduce - me?” 

Silt chuckles softly. 

“Well, there wasn’t a moment really. It happened over time.” He replies. “Did I find you attractive when you grew older? Probably. But I was dating your brother so there was no use for me to do anything with it. But then you ended up helpless on my couch, needing nothing but love and care, and I had that fall out with Bran. And suddenly I felt it. That spark. That desire to show you what you deserved, the love that everyone has been depriving you of your whole life. And when I saw you lean into my touch, wanting my affection. I knew.” 

“You knew?” 

“I knew that I needed to have you. That I needed to lavish your body with as much love and passion as I could manage. That you needed to experience what this life could also be.” Silt chuckles. “God, it makes me hard to think about it.” 

There is no denying that he is indeed getting horny from merely talking about what made him do this. I can feel his erection very evidently against the small of my back. It makes me nauseous as a sharp pain radiates through my lower body at the mere thought of having to do that again. 

Silt slips his arms a little closer around my body, making me feel small and useless. 

“I knew you would be perfect and you did not disappoint, baby. You did not disappoint.” 

I have to close my eyes to hold back the tears that are once again right under the surface. I can feel my resolve and soul crumbling at his words, doubting everything I’ve ever known to be true. There is nothing to do but survive. 

And that is exactly what I do. I try to survive. I try to let nothing face me and go on with my life while Silt goes on with his unending stream of sexual requests. 

After that first night we have sex every single night and I become more and more complacent to it. I know that struggling doesn’t help so I don’t. It even adds up to a point that he doesn’t even have to ask me to go into the bedroom and undress. At some point I just walk to the bedroom when I can no longer deal with the ever building tension, strip down and lay down for him to use. 

I try to cope by fleeing the house. Fleeing into working out most of the time, taking considerable steps in my stamina for wrestling. I try to use training as a way to cope, imagining that I am throwing Silt to the ground every time I force my opponent down. Imagining it is Silt I will beat eventually if I just keep pushing myself to become the best. 

Where Coach might think that I am focused on this scholarship, my real focus is putting my mind off of what I have to deal with as soon as I get home. 

Everyday I fight going home until there is no other choice. Until I have to go home or Silt might become angry and ask me why I am not there waiting for him. And everyday I feel dread in every part of my body when I walk towards the little apartment on the last row. 

The hardest part is dealing with Rye and my friends. 

I am not exactly sure why Rye is mad at me but he uses every opportunity he has to taunt me and make me feel bad. He tries to talk me down during practice and whenever we see each other in the hallways at school he either avoids me like the plague or tries to make me trip. 

I am walking through the hall alone when he tries it again, successfully to a point that I have to fight to remain standing. It wouldn’t be so bad otherwise but my ass is hurting because Silt was horny before school and the misstep I am forced to take sends a flash of pain through my lower body. 

The sudden flash of anger that comes with it amazes me and it makes me turn around to face my older brother. He is laughing with one of his friends, not at all aware that he has hurt me. 

“What the fuck is your problem, Rye!” I hiss. 

“Me?” He chuckles. “I don’t have a problem, but seems like you do.” 

“Fuck you!” I hiss. “What the fuck have I done to deserve this?” 

Rye’s face falls. Like he suddenly realizes I am serious.

“Are you serious?” He hisses, walking towards me with a glint in his eyes that reminds me of mom. “You have no idea what you did?” 

“I didn’t do anything!” 

“Then why are you not living at home right now? Why am I spending an hour a day doing your chores because you aren’t there to do what you are supposed to do?” 

“I didn’t do that or want that, and you know that very well!” 

“No I don’t. All I know is that you are a pussy who can’t take a beating when he makes a mistake.” Rye says, our noses are almost touching now. “Bran and I never fled. We took it like a man.” 

“And what did she beat you with?” I reply, gazing at him. “Her nimble fingers? The band of her apron? Maybe even the back of her hand?”

He looks at me in surprise, probably not really sure what I am hinting at. 

“Did you ever hit your head on the counter to break your orbital socket? Did you ever have bruises on your back that were surrounded by burn marks? Did you ever have any of those?” 

“That is not the point.” Rye replies, sounding a little more uncertain. 

“No, Rye. It is the point. You can’t tell me to man up and deal with it when you have no clue what I am actually dealing with.” I hiss. “You have no idea how long it took for me to be able to get off the couch on my own again. I am not going to come back to experience that again.” 

“So it wasn’t you that abandoned us and gave me a full hour of extra chores each day?” 

“I didn’t fucking do that!” I hiss back. “She did! You should be blaming her instead of me! I am the victim here, not you and definitely not her!” 

“Oh boohoo.” Rye jokes, an evil smile on his face that reminds me too much of mum. 

“Oh fuck you.” I hiss, cutting my losses and walking away. I don’t even listen to the things he throws at me behind my back. I try to ignore it as I walk towards my next class. 

I don’t even notice Delly watching me from the other side of the hallway. Not until I pass her and she calls out my name. 

“Peeta -” 

“Don’t, Delly. Just don’t.” I mutter, trying to pass her. 

“And just ignore the fact that your brother is an absolute asshole?” 

I sigh heavily as I halt my strive, my shoulders hunched over in defeat. When I finally find the courage to look at her she has a look of pity on her face. Pity that somehow hits me wrong. Pity that I don’t deserve because I fucked everything up myself. 

“There is some truth to his words though.” I mutter. “If I wasn’t such a -” 

“Such a what, Peeta?” Delly interrupts. “Such a teenager? Such a human? What?” 

“Such a failure.” I mutter. 

“You are not a failure.” Delly replies. “How can you be a failure when you have so many things to be proud of?” 

“Like what?” 

Delly has a look of surprise on her face before I can see the wheels starting to turn in her head. 

“You are a wonderful artist on both paper and the cakes. You are very talented in wrestling or Coach would not give you a shot at this scholarship.” Delly sums up. “You are incredibly kind and a good friend who wants to be there for the rest of us.” 

“I am not a good friend. At least not lately.” I mutter. 

“Just because you have a hard time doesn’t mean that you stop being a good friend.” Delly replies. “It just means that we have to be there for you instead of the other way around for a change.” 

“It’s just -” I reply, not sure what I wanted to tell her. 

“It’s just what, Peeta?” Delly asks with her always kind voice. 

“You can’t help me.” I blurt out. “I fucked up and I need to fix this myself.” 

“Why? Why do you have to fix it alone?” 

“Because I promised.” I mutter, turning around to walk away. 

I don’t get far before Delly grabs my wrist extremely gently. It makes me awfully aware of how fucked up I am when a shiver runs down my spine at her touch. She is not going to hurt me. She is not going to make it worse. She just cares and still my body feels like it is being betrayed. 

“Who did you promise, Peeta?” 

“Someone.” I mutter, not looking at her. 

She remains silent for a while as we remain in the exact same position. Almost like she is thinking about what she is going to do next. Like she is debating her next step in her own mind. 

“Ash McGee had a reputation before he was reaped.” She says out of the blue, making me look over my shoulder to face her. 

“What?” 

“Ash MeGee. Silt’s older brother.” 

“I know who he is.” I hiss. “What the fuck does that have to do with me.”

“Madge told me you were staying with Silt.” Delly replies, not coming to the point at all. 

“Madge shouldn’t snitch.” 

“I don’t think she realized it was a secret.” Delly replies, smiling kindly. 

“Still doesn’t explain what Ash’s reputation has to do with any of this.” I reply. “Whatever the hack his reputation might be about.”

“There are rumors that he and Silt were close. Very close.” 

“So?” 

“Uncomfortably close.”

“And?” I reply. “I know they were close. Silt talked to me about it.” 

“He did?” Delly asks, amazed. 

“Yeah. They were raised to be close.” I tell her. “They had a lot of kids and Silt relied on Ash for a lot of things.” 

“They say that Silt relied on Ash a little too much and that Ash used it to his advantage.” 

My blood starts to boil in anger. Both because she is putting her nose where it doesn’t belong and because it hits too close to home. I’ve never heard the rumors about Ash and Silt and I don’t want to know them. I don’t want to put the puzzle pieces together. I don’t want to feel like a fool for not seeing it earlier. 

“Who are they and why do you believe their stupid rumors?” I hiss. “Maybe you should keep your nose out of places where it doesn’t belong and mind your own fucking business.” 

I drag my wrist out of her hand before I stomp away, completely forgoing my next class and training before I walk out of the door and towards the seam. 

I am so done with this.

Chapter Text

In the next week I try to avoid Delly and Rye at all costs. I don’t talk to Silt about the conversations I had with them and I try to ignore the warning signs that keep popping up left and right. Getting clearer and clearer every day. Making me feel more and more stupid for not seeing them before all hell broke loose. 

I notice that I try to hide my struggles behind a wall more and more. A wall of kindness. A wall that holds a fake smile. I try to do everything in my power to not show the hurt that Silt is causing. The humiliation and the pain that overwhelm me every day. 

It is almost like Silt doesn’t even notice that he is changing every fiber of my being. It is like he only sees his own desire and that he uses my reluctant consent as justification that I must like it. 

My drawings of Silt become more and more dark. Drawing his body in various stages of undress. Drawing his eyes surrounded by shades of black. I draw him with his fingers like claws coming towards me to grab my skin and rip it apart. I draw his body against another one, the two bodies meeting at the waist. 

I am mindlessly drawing again on a saturday morning when a rough knock on the door drags me out of my concentration which makes me close my sketchbook before I get the door. 

When I open it I am faced with an angry looking Bran. His fists are balled in anger even though he tries to hide it from me. He is not very good at it though. 

“Bran? What are you doing here?” 

“Is he home?” Bran hisses. 

“No, he is at work.” I reply. “What’s wrong?” 

“We need to talk.” He replies, pushing me to the side and walking into the living room. 

I stare at him for a moment as he paces the kitchen area. Walking back and forth and back and forth to give way to his anger. His shoulders and hands are tense, making me nervous about what he wants to talk about. 

“Did he force you?” Bran asks after a while, looking at me with an intense stare. 

“What?” I reply, feeling a sudden panic. How the fuck did he find out about it?

“The tesserae. Did he force you to take it?” 

I almost want to sigh in relief, but I stop myself just in time to not make him worry about what else might be going on. 

“No.” I reply. “He didn’t.” 

"Then why? Why the hell did you take out tesserae? And you better not fucking lie to me!” 

“As a thank you.” I reply. “I took up tesserae as a thank you for everything that Silt has been doing for me. He didn’t force me. No one forced me. In fact he was quite upset that I had done it, considering what happened to Ash.” 

“Yeah, right. You decided it on your own.” 

“Why don’t you believe that?” I huff. “No one seems to believe me lately.” 

“Because I know that Silt can be persuasive. I know that he doesn’t always notice when he is pushing his own goals and that he sometimes forgets what others might think.” 

“And you think I can’t handle that?” I reply, feeling the anger boil up inside of me. “You think I am just your weak little brother that is easily persuaded and fooled?” 

“No, I just-” 

“You just what, Bran? It seems like the only thing you can do is complain and accuse me of everything lately. Do you even realize that we haven’t had a normal conversation since I moved here?”

“No, I know. It's just -” Bran stammers, seeming surprised by my outburst. 

“It’s just what, Bran? You think I like this situation? You think I don’t miss the bakery? You think I don’t want this to be different than it is?” 

“Then come home!” 

“For what, Bran? To be beaten again? To be starved and ignored because I am unwanted?”

“She can change. She is already starting to.” Bran says, sounding hopeful. 

“Starting to isn’t enough for me, Bran. I want to come home, I really do. But I am tired of watching over my shoulder every minute of every day. I am tired of being scared to do the simplest tasks because she might find me at fault for something. I am just tired of it all, Bran. I am even tired of not feeling at home anywhere.” 

Bran looks at me intently. Almost like he is searching for something. He is looking so intently that it makes me uncomfortable. 

“How do you even know about the tesserae?” 

“I had an appointment at the town hall with Elory and -” 

“An appointment with Elory?” I huff. “You broke up with Silt like what? Two weeks ago? And you are already talking about marrying Elory.”

“I was always going to marry Elory.” Bran replies. “Silt knew that too. He knew that when we started our relationship. He knew that when it came down to choosing something permanent I would have to choose Elory.” 

“Because mom and dad wanted you to.” I mutter. 

“Because I want to!” Bran replies. “Elory is a lovely girl. She deserves a stable marriage as much as any other girl.” 

“What she deserves is to be loved by someone who is actually in love with her, Bran! Not someone who is hiding the fact that he is gay behind his marriage with her! You might think this is the best now until you are in a marriage that is just as loveless and cold as our parents' in about ten years.” 

“I love Elory! I love her with all my heart!” Bran shouts. 

“And a few weeks ago you said the same thing about Silt! He meant the world to you and you didn’t know what to do when you eventually had to choose. And now you broke up and the first thing you do is marry someone else! You are fooling yourself, Bran! You are just desperate and pathetic!” 

“Oh look at you! Such a grown up all of a sudden.” Bran hisses. “Telling me what to do with my life while you are hiding away in a rundown seam apartment, too scared to face life.” 

“Oh fuck you, Bran! You have no idea about me! None!” 

“Because you don’t tell me shit ever since you moved here! You used to tell me everything back home and now you are closed off and hostile every time I come to visit you. We are still brothers, Peeta! You can still tell me everything.” 

“Do you even realize how ridiculous that sounds after you come barching in here and demand some answers and when I give you the answers you don’t believe me?” I reply. “And yet you tell me that I can share everything with you while I clearly can’t.” 

“I am worried about you! Taking tesserae can’t be undone!” 

“And you think I don’t know that? You think I don’t realize what it means to do that?” I hiss. “Have you ever even imagined what it is like to be me? To be the third son in a town business? To be the blond guy that will be forced to go to the mines and stick out like a light in the dark?” 

“What?” 

“You never even thought about the fact that my future isn’t as stable as yours. Yours was set the moment you were born! Mine never was. I always was the spare to the spare and that is all I will ever be. There never were great plans in my future. I was always meant to rot away in the mines and die an early death.” 

“So what? You are suicidal now? Is that why you took up tesserae?” 

“No! I am not fucking suicidal! I am just looking for a place to belong! I am just searching for who I am because I have no fucking clue!” 

“And what? Silt is helping you with that?” Bran replies. 

“Well at least he tries! At least he does not force me to go back home and get beaten!” 

“No, he doesn’t. Instead he keeps you here, safe and sound.” Bran replies, sounding annoyed. “Instead he lets you live a perfect life over here, far away from the people that love you.” 

“Yeah, right. Because love is best portrayed when you hit your child with a burning hot poker!” I hiss. “Very loving, Bran. I can feel the love when I look at the burns on my back!” 

“You know what! Forget it!” Bran shouts. “I wanted to help you! I wanted to tell you that you can talk to me about whatever is bothering you. I wanted to tell you that we can work something out. But clearly you are not interested. Clearly you have this perfect life set up here and I am just intruding!” 

“Apparently you are deaf as well as stubborn.” I reply. “Because no matter how many times I try to explain this to you, you just don’t seem to understand what I am trying to tell you.” 

“Yeah, sure. I am just the dumb older brother who hasn’t had any hardships in his life and doesn’t understand one bit about what you are going through.” Bran mutters. “You know what, Peeta? Forget it! Sorry I even cared!” 

I watch as Bran storms out of the house, not even looking back to see the distraught look on my face. Oh well done, Peeta. You fucked up royally again. You just lost your one and only lifeline to ever get out of this deal you have with Silt. Well done. 

A sudden rage flashes inside of me which makes me grab the nearest cup that is still on the counter and smash it against the wall at full force while I let out a scream of frustration. God, I am so stupid. 

Tears are in my eyes when I grab my sketchbook and flip open a new page. I absentmindedly start to draw, not even thinking about what it is supposed to become. Just letting my hands do all the work. 

After half an hour of drawing I take a first good look at what I made and it scares me to see that I have drawn a quite accurate picture of Silt’s penis. Every ridge and every bump is presented as the drawing shows it in an erect state. I have to push the sketchbook away from me and run towards the bathroom to be able to puke my guts out. 

I am barely able to reach the toilet before I am losing all the food I had managed to eat today. Once I am done I stay where I am, leaning my head against the cold edge of the toilet. 

What the fuck has happened to me? Why am I drawing genitals? 

Because he uses you. He needs his release and you are an easy target. 

But why? Why is he this way? Why does he need this? 

My mind goes over all the clues I’ve come across these last couple of weeks. How Silt talks about Ash and the bond they shared. The way he told me that this is how normal families do things. How the pictures showed a happy Ash but a disturbed looking Silt. How the sketchbook held pictures of genitals. 

I immediately get up when it hits me before I rush to the bedroom and open the closet to grab the box that I found earlier. I find the sketchbook on the bottom, flipping through the pages of how Ash got murdered until I come across the pictures that look awfully similar to the one that I just drew. 

In this sketchbook there are multiple of them instead of just the one that I noticed earlier. A young Silt has drawn genitals from many different angels. Both flaccid and erect. Some are leaking cum while in others there is a hand wrapped around the tip. 

I flip further and further, coming across more and more images of the same until I see a whole different perspective. It is a top down view of the naked lower body of a young boy. There are hardly any pubes that surround the semi erect underage penis. The boy’s legs are spread as the body of another male can be seen between them. The penis of the person half buried in the young boy’s ass. 

There are a couple of drawings exactly like that one until I come across a picture that I wished I noticed before. A drawing that explains so much to me and doesn’t at the same time. A drawing that is awfully disturbing and awfully familiar. 

The perspective feels familiar as it is viewed from the person that is on the bed, the boy’s legs spread as they look at the person between their legs. I recognize the person immediately even though I have never seen the boy in real life. The artist has made him look exactly like the pictures and the similarities between him and my own tormenter are uncanny. 

The man in the drawing is Ash. The man in every drawing is Ash. And by the sheer logic of who has these pictures I can only assume that the other boy must be Silt. 

A wave of dizziness overcomes me as I have to sit down to come to terms with what I just found out. To force someone to do something like this is fucked up. But to force your little brother to do it is unimaginable. 

No wonder Silt had such a hard time after Ash passed. Tributes are often viewed as heroes, or at least good people who were tragic victims of the government. When they die they are mourned and people tell stories about how wonderful they were. But Ash wasn’t as wonderful as everyone believed him to be. To Silt he was a monster but there was never room to talk about that. 

It might be the sole reason why Silt does not look at Ash as if he did anything wrong. Having to cope with the fact that your rapist is hailed and praised at the age of fifteen. Having to hear that he is perfect and you are an abomination from your own parents. Having to deal with the fact that you have to mourn him but hate him at the same time. 

No wonder he is confused about it all. No wonder he doesn’t see whatever he is doing as wrong. No one ever told him it was, because everyone always told him Ash was good. That Ash did nothing to deserve what he got. And when everyone mourned there was no room for the truth. There was no room to ask questions because Ash was already a saint in everyone’s eyes. 

My mind flashes back to the day we spent at Daffy’s. To the conversation I overheard. How Daffy tried to tell Silt something was wrong and Silt denied it. Daffy must have known something. She must be aware of what went on to some extent even if she has no clue about all of it. 

I make a split second decision before I grab the sketchbook, put on my shoes and walk towards the other part of the seam where she lives. I hide away in my hoodie, trying to remain unseen by any and all eyes. I have no desire to talk to anyone but Daffy. I have no desire to explain what is wrong and why I am in such a hurry. 

Through various back alleys and with three wrong turns I finally come across the familiar front porch. The little boy is playing on the porch while Daffy is helping the little girl to take a few paces on the grass. Her little wobbly legs barely hold her and it is adorable to see. I stare at it for a moment before she seems to notice me.

“Peeta?” She asks, standing up and taking the girl up into her arms. 

“Can we talk?” 

“About what?” 

“Ash.” 

“Oh.” She says with a look of sorrow on her face. “Can’t you ask Silt about him? He loves to talk about Ash.” 

“Not about this.” I mutter. “I don’t think he would be honest with me about this.”

Her face falls like a brick, the sorrow replaced with something I can’t decipher but it looks frightening, almost like I touched a subject she does not want to talk about. She remains silent for a moment until she puts her daughter on the ground and calls the little boy over. Telling him to take her inside and go play in the corner. The boy just listens and does what he is told, almost like he knows there is something wrong. 

When they are gone, Daffy turns around to face me. 

“Lyle will be home in an hour or so.” Daffy mutters before she sits down on the porch. “Silt will be home half an hour after that. So we better hurry up because I assume you don’t want him to know about it.” 

Without answering I sit down beside her, the sketchbook clutched in my arms as I try to find a way to start the conversation. In a way I want to talk to her about Silt and Ash but I don’t want to talk to her about Silt and me. I want answers but I don’t want her to know. I don’t think I can handle telling her that anyway. 

“I found Silt’s sketchbook.” I mutter, putting the book in my lap as I stroke the cover. “I was curious and I found some things that I don’t understand.” 

“You probably did.” Daffy replies. “That book was Silt’s lifeline after Ash died. He wouldn’t go anywhere without it.” 

“Have you ever seen what’s inside?” 

“No.” Daffy sighs. “He never let anyone look inside. He used to be proud of his drawings before those games, but he didn’t want to show anyone after. Where did you find it?” 

“In a box with all kinds of things that I believe belonged to Ash.” I reply. “His confirmation of death, a few childhood pictures.” 

“I didn’t even know Silt had a box like that.” 

“He hid it in the closet. I don’t think he meant for anyone to find it.” I reply, looking at her sideways. “Especially not the sketchbook.” 

Her eyes turn to worry as she looks at me. 

“What is in the sketchbook?” She asks. 

“A lot.” I mutter, breaking eye contact. “Maybe you should see for yourself.” 

I hand her the book, which she takes with trembling hands. She opens it immediately, flipping through the first few pages like they are old news. She flips and flips until she slows down when she sees the first picture of genitals. She stops flipping all together when she comes across the drawing that identifies Ash as the rapist. 

“Oh no.” She mutters before she closes her eyes for a moment 

When she opens them again they are filled with tears. 

Yeah. Oh no.

Chapter Text

“The man in the drawings.” I mutter. “It’s Ash, isn’t it?” 

“It looks like it.” Daffy replies. 

“That’s what I thought. I recognized him from the tribute pictures.” I reply. “Silt never confirms who the boy is in the drawings but I think that you and I both have a pretty good idea.” 

Daffy slowly nods her head as I see a single tear slip down her face. 

“I always knew there was something wrong.” Daffy mutters. “I always saw this dark side in Ash that no one else saw. After he was reaped everyone would go on about how perfect he was. How sad it was that he was ripped from his peaceful life. After he was reaped there was no room to doubt what he had done in the past. Everyone hailed him as a hero and my parents believed them. They never saw his struggles.” 

“Whose?” 

“Silt’s.” Daffy replies. “It started when he was twelve. Or that is when he started to change. Ash was fifteen by then and they spent a lot of time together. They shared a room, they shared hobbies. Wherever Ash was, Silt went. They were two peas in a pot so it was weird when that changed completely over the course of a few weeks.”

“What happened?” 

“He stopped smiling.” Daffy replies. “Like, completely. And he started drawing. He started to use it as an outlet for his emotions. I gave him my state issued sketchbook after he had completely filled his, but like I said, he never allowed me to see what he had drawn. He also spent a lot more time away from the house with his sketchbook. He told me once that he went close to the fence and that he would just sit there and draw.” 

“And you never found out why he changed?” 

“No, I did.” Daffy sighs. “I noticed that it had something to do with Ash. I tried to talk to my mom about it once but she just had the twins. She was too busy to care, I guess.” 

“Why did you think it was Ash?” 

“The way he behaved around him. He never smiled much but especially not around Ash. He would always be tense, his shoulders all the way up to his ears. He would fight with mom and dad over his bedtime every night. Telling them that he wasn’t tired yet and that he did not want to go upstairs. I guess it kind of makes sense now.” 

I remain silent, waiting for her to keep talking. 

“I knew he must have been doing something to Silt, but neither of them ever said anything about it. Ash told me that Silt was having a tough time with his sexuality and Silt just always said he didn’t want to talk about it. I just expected it to be - well, not this.” 

“Then what did you expect?” 

“I don’t know." She mutters, sounding upset. “That he touched him, maybe made Silt touch him. Not full on sex.” 

“Rape.” I mutter. “Silt was underage, that makes it rape.” 

“Right.” She replies. “I just - I never wanted to believe Ash could do such a thing. Not to his own brother.” 

“But he did.” 

“I know he did, Peeta. I know that Silt did not draw those pictures for fun. But there is nothing I can do about it now, can I?” Daffy replies, sounding agitated. “Ash has been dead for years. Silt has his own life and doesn’t seem bothered by what happened. So what do you want me to do?” 

“What makes you think that Silt isn’t bothered by what happened?” I reply, feeling more bold than I have ever felt before. 

“Because he is a functioning young man who learned how to smile again. He had a hard time after Ash passed and my parents threw him out because he is gay, but he figured out what he wanted and he learned to enjoy life again. I think he is the strongest man I know that was able to overcome all of this and be stronger. He doesn’t even want me to talk about it when I bring it up, it is almost like it annoys him.” 

“If you say so.” I reply, earning me a curious look from Daffy. “Can I ask you another question?” 

“Of course, Peeta.” 

“Was it normal for you and Ash to bathe Silt and your younger siblings?” 

“It was.” Daffy confirms. “Up until the point where they could do it themselves, we helped them. Making sure they were clean in the spots they couldn’t reach.” 

“How old were your sisters when you stopped helping them?” 

“About ten, I think.” Daffy replies. “Why?” 

“Could it be that Ash kept doing that with Silt?” I ask not looking at her. “Could it be that they bathed together right up to the morning of the reaping?”  

“Why do you ask?” Daffy asks, her face filled with confusion. 

“Just curious.” 

“That is not just curious, Peeta. It is too specific to be curious. Did Silt talk to you about it?” 

I remain silent, staring at the ground beneath my feet. 

“Peeta?” Daffy asks, her voice trembling a little bit. “Did he try to bathe you?” 

“No.” I reply immediately. “No. It just came up when he was filling the tub. Telling me that he used to bathe with Ash. He had such vivid memories of it that I wondered if he might have been older than I initially thought.” 

Daffy remains silent. Looking at me with an intense interest that makes me nervous. What is she after?

“Why are you really here, Peeta?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You tell me you found his sketchbook, you find some images and you come and show them to me.” Daffy replies. “What was your goal in doing that? Did you want me to talk to Silt? Do you want me to defend Ash? Do you want something else? What was your goal?” 

“I - I don’t really know.” I mutter. “I just wanted to share it with someone.” 

“Why me?” 

“Well, I couldn’t go to Silt, could I? How do you imagine that, ‘hi Silt, I found your sketchbook and the naked pictures you drew of your brother raping you. Can you tell me about it?’ You think he would have talked to me about it?” I hiss. “You think he would have been honest or do you think he would have become angry?” 

“Peeta -” 

“Don’t! Just don’t!” I hiss. “Forget I ever came. It was stupid and dumb.” 

I turn around to walk away but before I can take a step she has taken my wrist, holding me back. 

“Peeta -”

“Don’t fucking touch me.” I hiss, at which she immediately lets go of me. 

“Peeta, talk to me please.” Daffy tries, sounding desperate. “You are different since I last saw you. What happened?” 

“That is none of your fucking business.”

“I think it is.” She replies. “I think you did not come here to help Silt. I think you came here to help yourself. Maybe it was even your unconsciousness that led you here instead of you really deciding on it. But something is wrong.” 

“How can you say that? You hardly know me!” 

“And yet I see a change in you. A harness. A mask. A cry for help.”

“I am not fucking crying for help!” I hiss. 

“Did he hurt you, Peeta?” Daffy asks all of a sudden. “Did he do the same thing to you that Ash did to him? Did you panic when you saw his drawings?”

I freeze for only a second, knowing how awfully close she is to the truth. 

“I need to go.” I mutter. “Silt will be home soon.”

“Peeta -” She tries but I don’t even hear her anymore. Instead I am walking away, trying to get as far away from the house as soon as possible. 

I barely watch where I walk and before I know I am smack in the middle of the square. The justice building on my left, the bakery on the right. For a moment I am lost. This is so not where I want to be. If it was up to me I would never go to the square again unless I absolutely had to. 

What if dad or mom sees me? What if they try to convince me to come home? 

“Peeta?” Someone asks behind me, making me turn around immediately. 

Madge is looking at me with a hint of concern on her face. Almost like I am some kind of crazy person that she needs to protect. 

“Everything alright?” 

I only realize know that I must have been crying. I must have been so angry with Daffy, or really with Silt, that the tears streamed down my face. She must see that they are red and swollen. She must notice the panic that is settling in my stomach. 

“Peeta?” I hear from the other side of the square in the awfully familiar voice that belongs to my father. 

I close my eyes for a moment until I turn around to face him. He is in his baker’s whites, the flour all over his clothing and hands. 

“It’s good to see you, son.” 

For a moment I am absolutely clueless as to what to say. How do you react when you see your father for the first time in weeks while you don’t want to see them at all. 

“Peeta, breathe.” Madge says behind me, trying to calm me down, but that only makes the chaos in my head grow. 

“Bran told me that he spoke to you.” Dad says. “He told me about how worried he is about you.” 

Bran? Worried? He was mad. Really, really mad.

Tesserae. The thing Bran was freaking out about. The thing Madge knew about. How did he find out?

“You told him.” I hiss, turning back around to face Madge. “You told him about the tesserae.” 

“What?” Madge replies, sounding confused. “I didn’t tell anyone anything.” 

“Then how?” I hiss. “How did Bran know about the tesserae?” 

“Tesserae?” Dad asks, his face turning dark. “What are you talking about?” 

“Mr Mellark, please. You are not helping.” Madge tries before she returns to me. “I didn’t tell him, Peeta. I promised you I wouldn’t, and I didn’t.” 

“You took out tesserae?” Dad hisses now, sounding almost as angry as mom often sounds. “You took out tesserae for the seam brat that stole you from us?” 

“Mr Mellark! With all due respect, please shut up!” Madge shouts. “Peeta, listen to me. He must have heard it when he was in the justice building. I wasn’t there when he visited, I was at Delly’s, but dad told me that he came by. He must have seen it or heard it there.” 

“I thought your father raised you better, young lady.” Dad replies. 

“I thought you would be a better person, Mr Mellark. But apparently you are not.” Madge returns. “Peeta doesn’t need your scrutiny or your harsh words. He needs to calm down and breathe.” 

“I know what my son needs, Miss Undersee. He needs to be where he belongs, which is at home with us instead of with a strange boy on the seam.” 

“What he needs is a stable home!” Madge replies. “He needs a home where he is loved and cared for!” 

“Are you insinuating that my home isn’t?” Dad hisses. 

“I am tell -” Madge starts before I interrupt her. 

“Madge, it is fine.” I tell her, sounding calmer than I am. “You don’t need to defend or protect me.” 

“Peeta -” She tries, but I choose to ignore her and focus on my dad. 

“If you spoke to Bran, then you know I am not coming home.” 

“He said that yes, we just don’t understand why not.” Dad replies. “You belong with us. You belong in the bakery.” 

“You often tell me that I do.” I reply. “But it doesn’t feel like it and I won’t come back until it does.” 

“What does that mean?” Dad says, a skeptical look on his face. “We need you to be home.” 

“Do you need me, or my skills?” I ask. “Because that is a different thing, dad.” 

“We need you.” He replies, sounding more unsure than I hoped. “We need you in the bakery. Cray wants another cake. Bran is getting married and he would like a cake that you made.” 

The tears spring to my eyes when I see the hopeful look on his face. He really believes that this will make me change my mind. He really believes that him telling me he needs my skill rather than me is going to convince me.

“Bye dad.” I mutter, before I lose my hands in my pockets and turn around. Walking away towards Silt’s house. 

“Where are you going?” Dad asks. 

“Home.” I mutter, before I up my pace and try to ignore him. I can hear him hiss behind me. Telling me that I am making a mistake. That I need to sort out my loyalties and priorities. That I need to stop being a baby and grow up. 

I try to ignore him. I really try. But I don’t get farther than not reacting. Totally blocking him out seems to be impossible. Dad follows after me for a little while, but when I get too far into the seam he stops. When the sound of his voice completely disappears I speed up even more to go unnoticed and reach the apartment as soon as I can. 

I half expect Silt to be home already, but the place is dark and cold. I know that I should start dinner. I know that after everything that happened, it would be best to keep at least Silt happy. Maybe he will give me a break. Maybe he will hold me and comfort me without making it dirty for once. 

My hands move on autopilot as my mind keeps wandering back to everything. To Daffy and her questions. To dad and his pleas. To Madge. 

Everything seems to be spinning out of control. Daffy is finding out, Dad is getting more angry and Madge is trying to fix things she doesn’t know shit about. It feels weird but Silt’s abuse is the only thing that is constant and predictable right now. I know what he wants and when he wants it. I know how to please him and make him cum. I am such a whore that I know exactly which buttons to push to make him happy. 

I am lost in thought when I hear the door open behind me. I turn around to greet him but when I do my face immediately falls. Silt has a dark look on his face. A look that scares me. A look that can’t mean any good. 

“Silt?” I ask, feeling unsure of what he wants from me. 

“Is this how you repay my kindness?” He hisses, walking towards me. It scares me so much that I step back, bumping into the counter behind me. “Is this how you treat your friends? Your lover?” 

“What do you mean?” 

Silt’s hand reaches into his work bag, pulling out the sketchbook that I showed Daffy. I left it with her because I was so angry. She must have used it to confront Silt when he was done working. She must have meant well, but I am not sure if Silt thinks the same way about that. 

“What the fuck did you do with this, Peeta? What the fuck did you want to accomplish?” 

“I don’t know!” I reply. “I was scared, I think. Worried about you. About what happened between you and Ash.” 

“What happened between me and Ash was consensual in every sense of the word! Besides that it is none of your fucking business!” 

“Don’t you think it is a little though?” I reply, feeling brave. “If Ash had never raped you, you would have never raped me!”

“IT ISN’T FUCKING RAPE!” Silt shouts, grabbing a cup from the dining table and flinging it against the wall. 

“All right! Fine! If you hadn’t had sex with Ash, you would have never tried it with me! That pretty much makes it my business! Don’t you think I deserve to know a little more about your past if we are that intimate together?” 

“You deserve shit!” Silt hisses. “You deserve to be punished for everything you put at stake by pulling this little stunt.” 

“What?” 

“You heard me. You are going to pay for your mistakes.” 

“Silt, please, don’t do this.” I beg, feeling myself draw back into the corner of the room in an attempt to get away from him. 

“You don’t have a fucking right to beg me for anything.” Silt hisses, stepping closer towards me. “You are going to fucking strip all the way to that treacherous bare skin of yours before I will tell you what to do and you will fucking listen.”

Chapter Text

“Silt, please!” I beg, trying to keep him from doing whatever he is planning for a little while longer. 

The next thing is awfully familiar and yet so surprising considering it is not my mom that does it. The harsh slap hits my face at full force, making tears spring into my eyes instantly. 

He promised. He told me he would never hit me. He promised me he was not like my mom. 

“Fucking strip, Peeta.” He hisses. 

This time I no longer stall. This time I just force my hands to move and rid my body of the clothes it so desperately wants to keep. I strip down completely, giving him exactly what he wants while my cheek throbs from the blow. 

I can’t even look at him when I stand before him to wait for what he has planned. Instead my eyes are focused on the ground, my hands balled into tight fists to give way to my anxiety. 

Silt is still fuming beside me, he is really pissed and I know for a fact that he is solely pissed at me. I caused this by talking to Daffy. I made him angry and there is nothing that will fix that. 

“Get on the fucking bed, slut.” Silt hisses which makes me move instantly. I almost run towards the bedroom, forgetting about the dinner I was making out of total and utter fear. 

When I reach the bed I can feel the panic. He told me to get on it, but he did not tell me how. Does he want me on my back with spread legs or does he want me on hands and knees? I decide to just get on and debate there what to do, at least I am following directions to the best of my ability that way. 

When Silt walks into the room, he is only wearing his jeans. In his hands is a piece of rope that make my body tremble with fear in an instant. 

“On your knees, slut.” He hisses, making me move instantly. 

It takes him a couple of seconds before he is right next to me, grabbing my arms and tying them to the head board before he removes his belt and puts it around my neck like a dog collar. 

I try to not let it bother me, but it does. It does bother me that he is tying me up like a pig for slaughter. It does bother me that he is treating me as his pet. 

I hiss as he forces a finger inside of me with just a little bit of spit. No oil, nothing. And it hurts, god, it hurts. 

“Look at you.” Silt mutters. “Right where you belong, beneath me in my bed.” 

“Silt, please.” I try once again before a harsh slap on my ass silences me.

“Oh no, baby.” Silt chuckles. “No, you don’t get to beg me to stop. The only begging you are allowed to do is beg me to fuck you and fuck you hard.” 

“Silt -” I mutter before I close my eyes in pain as he forces a second finger beside the first. 

“Yes, baby?” He replies. “Are you finally going to tell me you want it? Are you going to make this easier on yourself? Maybe I’ll even use lube if you ask me nicely to fill that tight hole of yours.” 

I debate what I will do. Will I tell him what he wants to hear? Will I be wise and do as he says? Or will I refuse and maybe regret that later? I don’t want to ask him to do that to me. I don’t want to consent to what he is going to do. I can’t consent. 

But I don’t want to hurt either. I don’t want to be ripped apart. I don’t want to feel the pain that I can only imagine comes with that. 

When he suddenly pulls his fingers out, I know that I took too long. He wanted an answer immediately and I took too long to debate. 

“Wait, Silt! Wait!” I beg as I can feel the tip of his penis against my ass, the tip barely wet enough to press in. 

“Oh no, baby. You don’t get to ignore me when I ask you to do something and regret it. You should have thought of that a little earlier.” He hisses before he pushes his hips forward, leaving me in agony. 

I immediately start sobbing in full at the incredible pain that radiates through my lower body. The intense stinging sensation that gets worse and worse with every movement. Because my god he moves. Silt starts fucking me in full right after he pushed in, giving me no change to accommodate him and get used to anything. 

It doesn’t take long before it gets a little wetter and easier and it takes me only seconds to realize why that happened. I am bleeding. His roughness caused my anal cavity to split open and provide him with enough moisture to make it easier to move. It doesn’t lessen the pain, it just changes it. 

While Silt starts to moan in pleasure, I start to drown in my sobs. I lean my head against the pillow between my arms, trying to come to terms with what I am feeling. Trying to come to terms with the absolute pain and devastation that tears through my soul. 

Is this really better? Is this really better than getting beaten by mom? That also hurts, but it hurts differently. I think I can handle the bruises that she leaves, I don’t think I can handle this. Not anymore.

I cry out in pain when Silt grabs my hair and pulls my head backward, his hand closes around my throat, holding me by it. It feels threatening and it makes me want to freeze instantly, afraid that he might start to squeeze any moment. 

“Look at you.” He whispers into my ear, his body pressed against mine as his hips still thrust at a murdering pace. “Right where you belong.” 

My vision gets clouded by another fresh set of tears as his fingers dance over the skin on my neck. 

“You were born for this, baby. You open up for me like it was always meant to be.” He mutters into my ear before his teeth sink into my neck and bite down hard. Making me cry out in pain. 

“And you know what the best thing is? You are mine. Utterly and totally mine.” 

After those words he speeds up even more, making all kinds of unwanted sounds break loose from my throat while his fingers are still holding that same throat. He sniffs my neck multiple times before he sinks his teeth into me once again and cums deep inside of me with a shout. 

He remains inside of me as he stills, kissing my neck at the place where he bit me before he lets go of my neck and lets my head fall forward into the pillow. 

When he finally pulls out, I feel numb. I feel how he cleans me up but I don’t react to it, letting him handle the wet cloth as I remain silent and still on the bed. It doesn’t even really surprise me when he leaves me right there. Tied up and vulnerable.

I can hear the sounds of him in the kitchen, making the dinner I had started to prepare, but not granting me the privilege of tasting it. I remain exactly where I am as the hours pass. 

When Silt joins me for the night, he fucks me again. Using a little lube this time which does not make it that much better because I am already hurting. He wakes me up halfway during the night for another go, just like he does as soon as he wakes up in the morning. 

I try to sleep in between, but I am hardly able to. My body hurts, my mind hurts. Everything fucking hurts. I don’t think I have ever regretted anything as much as going to Daffy yesterday. Or maybe I regret staying with Silt more, if only I didn’t have some fond memories as well. 

It is hard to realize how he has changed. From the man that made me valued and worth to be loved with his words, to this. The man that is destroying every tiny little bit of me. How did it happen? Was it always in there but did I just ignore it? Did I ignore it because I wanted to belong somewhere and Silt gave me the feeling that I did? 

After another session on the bed, Silt disappears to the kitchen. This time I hear him walk around and I am almost surprised when he walks back into the room half an hour after he left. 

“Come on, baby.” He mutters. “You need to eat something.” 

I look up slightly to see him hold a plate with a slice of bread and a cup of tea. I drop my head again, closing my eyes as I press my face into the pillow. 

“I am not hungry.” 

“That is bullshit. You didn’t eat last night. You need to eat now. I am not going to starve you, I am not your mother.” 

His words make me huff in disbelief.  

“Really?” I mutter. “You really think I believe you aren’t just as bad as her?” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Silt hisses, putting down the plate beside the bed. 

“You promised me, Silt! You promised me you wouldn’t hurt me! And yet here we are, you slap me, just like my mom, before you tie me to your bed and rape to the point that I am bleading from my asshole!” 

“You betrayed me, Peeta! You went to Daffy and told her about what we do!” 

“I didn’t fucking tell her!” I hiss, looking up at him. “I denied everything she thought was going on!” 

“Then what exactly were you thinking by going to her with the sketchbook?” 

“I don’t know! I needed to do something.” I reply. “I recognized Ash and it made me panic.” 

“Why for god’s sake? I told you about Ash. I told you that we were close. So why panic?” 

“There is a difference between being close and doing something that is wrong, Silt.” I reply. “What I saw in those drawings was wrong.” 

“And why is that?” Silt replies. “Why is it wrong to love your brother?” 

“It just is!” I shout. “He should have never done that to you! He should have never even thought about doing something like that! You are just confused because everything told you how great he was after he died. But he wasn’t, Silt! He used you, just like you are using me!” 

His hand shoots out as he grabs my hair and draws my head back forcefully. 

“Don’t you fucking dare, Peeta! Don’t you fucking dare judge my family while yours is even more shitty.” He hisses. “You are just a sad little stray kitten that doesn’t belong anywhere if it wasn’t for me. If I hadn’t taken you in, you would be on the street. Starving and begging for someone to take care of you. You have no one but me, so be grateful.” 

“My parents will take me back, if I ask them.”

“They might now.” Silt chuckles. “But I wonder if your mom will even call you her son anymore when she finds out what you did. Bran used to tell that he was scared shitless that his mother would find out about him being gay. He told me that it would be the end of the world because she would have never accepted him again.” 

“I am not gay!” I hiss, struggling to keep breathing to the pain that his hand causes. 

“And who will believe that when the rumors start to spread?” Silt taunts. “Who will believe you when everyone around you starts to believe that you take it up the ass like a champ?” 

“What?” 

“You think I will let you go, baby? You think I will allow you to run back to your parents and disappear on me?” Silt mutters, turning me around on my back before his hand closes around my penis. “You really think I will allow you to go and spread stories about me?” 

“Silt -” I mutter, before an involuntary moan escapes my mouth. 

“What, Peeta? What do you want me to tell you?” Silt replies, stroking up and down my shaft in such a way that it makes me dizzy. “You want me to tell you how special you are? Want me to tell you that you are the first that I’ve shown my love to after Ash?” 

My eyes fly wide open at his words. What the fuck is he talking about? 

“You look surprised.” He mutters. “Thought you were the only one? Well, you are not, baby. You are the most special to me, but you aren’t the only one.” 

“How many?” I hiss at him, feeling a sudden flash of pure hatred at his revelation. 

“You’re the third.” He replies, stroking my face in sync with my dick. “None of them had the privilege of sharing my bed though. Both of them were just quick fucks in back alleys. It even surprised me that the first one never talked. He remained silent even without many threats from me. I think he never found out who it was that fucked him, which is for the better because I wasn’t very careful with him.”

Tears spring into my eyes again as I involuntarily moan in pleasure. 

Silt smiles evilly at me. 

“Oh you like that, baby? Are you turned on by hearing about all the boys I fucked?” 

“Fuck you!” I hiss, before another moan escapes when pays special attention to the head of my penis. 

“Oh no, babe.” Silt laughs. “You are not the one doing the fucking. Now where was I?” 

I have to close my eyes as I can feel myself running to the edge at the speed of lightning. 

“Oh right, the second boy. I was a lot more careful with him because he knew who I was. I spent some sweet time warming up to him last year. He was struggling with the fact that he had to take tesserae to save his sister and that his sister died anyway. His mom and dad were grieving so he spent a lot of time outside the house and confided in me. I wanted to start slow with him like I did with you, but he caught on too fast. In the end I held him down and fucked him. I think it was a good thing that he was reaped a few weeks after it happened or he might have talked.” 

My eyes fly open when they envision the little boy on the stage last summer. The little boy that looked defeated and broken. The tears streaming down his face at the prospect of what he had to face. The tears that could have been caused by so many things, one of them possibly being Silt. 

“He had a tight ass, though. Incredibly tight.” Silt mutters as he speeds up his movement. I have the feeling that he wants me to cum soon. He wants me to cum while I listen to how he raped two young boys and I desperately do not want that to cum to that. I am not going to give him a reason to call me a perv. 

“He was young, though and he whined and wailed so much I had to pull off his underwear and stuff it in his mouth or he would have gotten us caught.” Silt tells me. “In a way you were very easy. You hardly fought because you were so desperate to be loved. You just walked right into my arms, making it so extremely easy.”

I am panting now, trying to hold off the inevitable. 

“And you are so receptive. I just have to do this -” He mutters, pressing firmly on the head of my penis which sends me tumbling over the edge. “- and you turn to jelly right here in my hands.” 

I keep my eyes tightly closed when I feel him move in between my legs, opening his pants and taking out his penis. He slides himself right in, starting to trust like I am his personal sex toy. Like he can use me and abuse me as he pleases without facing any consequences. 

My body feels dirty and used. It feels like it could be thrown out with the trash and no one would even notice or care. I can feel my body move because of his manipulation as Silt fucks himself to another high before he collapses right on top of me, kissing my neck as he does. 

“Promise me, Peeta.” He mutters. “Promise me and I will promise you.” 

“What?” I reply, feeling numb. 

“Promise me that you will stay with me, that you won’t talk about it and I promise you that I won’t start the rumors about your pretty white ass.” He mutters, slobbering on my neck. “I will take care of you. Keep you fed and happy. You just have to promise me.” 

“Is this your way of taking care of me?” I ask, sounding fragile. 

“No, baby. This is me telling you to behave. This is me disciplining you because you were bad.” He replies. “Me taking care of you is a lot of cuddling, a lot of very enjoyable moments on the couch. It is days filled with good conversations, discussing drawings and ending the night with some steamy hot sex right here in the bedroom. It is me loving you and cherishing you like you deserve.” 

“And you promise me that?” I mutter, tears in the corners of my eyes. I don’t want to tell him yes, but I don’t want the alternative. I don’t want my life to be over. I don’t want to belong nowhere.

“I will even swear it to you on Ash’s grave.” Silt mutters, placing an extremely soft kiss against my hairline. “We can be perfect together, baby. You only have to allow yourself to accept it.” 

“I know.” I whisper. “I am just scared.” 

“There is no need to be scared. If you behave, I will not hurt you. If you behave there will only be love and so much more.” 

I don’t fail to hear the threat of what happens when I misbehave. He doesn’t tell me that he won’t hurt me again, he just tells me that he won’t if I behave. If I don’t I have to deal with something similar to this. Something that I desperately want to not happen again. 

“Okay.” I mutter, regretting my words the moment they roll off of my lips. “I’ll stay here.” 

“Good boy.” He mutters, kissing me deeply on the mouth before he pulls away. 

I am hopeful that he will let me go. That he will untie me and tell me to make him something to eat. But he doesn’t. Instead he keeps me there for the rest of the day, feeding me some food and some water before raping me some more and spending another night by my side. 

He unties me early Monday morning, telling me to wash myself and get ready for school. I try to ask him to let me stay home, but he won’t have it. He tells me to man up, hide the bruises around my wrists and deal with it. 

Which I do, or try at least. 

I take my sweet time to get ready before I leave the house at the last possible moment to be in time for school. I don’t want to see or talk to anyone. I don’t want to explain myself. 

The schoolyard is already empty when I arrive, the headmaster at the door to see the last couple of kids inside. I hurry up before I slip in right past him and make my way to class. The teacher is still at the door, looking oddly at me as I walk past him without another word and sit down next to Madge. 

Madge doesn’t say anything but she does reach out her hand for me to grab. I debate it for a second before I feel the extreme need to be comforted by someone. I grab her hand tightly as I let out a shuddering breath. 

How the hell am I going to make this work?

Chapter Text

Madge keeps holding my hand through the hour, giving me some much wanted comfort after the hours I spend in hell the day and night before. It feels nice not having to explain myself to her. She might not know what is going on but she doesn’t care. She just lets me be and gives me exactly what I need. 

It is not that I don’t see the stares all around me. It is not that I don’t notice the whispers. But I simply don’t care right now. I don’t care if they think that Madge is my girlfriend. I don’t care if they see me as something fragile and weak. I just want her touch, that’s all. 

Or I just want someone’s touch. Someone that isn’t Silt. 

It is almost the end of the hour when a harsh knock on the door draws the attention of the whole class. When the door opens there are two peacekeepers, a man and a woman that look around the room like they are searching for something. 

“What can I do for you, officers?” Mr Fiyero asks, sounding polite just because of the gray they are wearing. 

“We are looking for Peeta Mellark.” The male officer says. “The headmaster told us he was supposed to be in this class.”

All eyes fall on me, drawing some attention that I do not want as fear grips me. What did I do? Did someone find out? Did something happen? Why do they want to talk to me?

“Mr Mellark?” Mr Fiyero says, his gaze focused on me. 

“Sir?” I mutter. 

“Please follow these officers, son. I am sure you will be fine.” He says with a small and nervous smile. I am not sure if he ever had a student being picked up out of his class by peacekeepers. A part of him must be wondering what happened. A part of him must be curious as to what I did that got me in the spotlight of our peacekeeper force that isn’t known for acting up for things at all. 

“Yes, sir.” I mutter, letting out a deep breath as Madge helps me up. I try not to hiss or flinch when I feel the sting in my backside that Silt’s actions left me. No one can know that I am hurting. No one can ask questions or my life is over. 

I slowly walk towards the door, following the two peacekeepers outside. I tuck my hands deeply into my pockets as I wait for them to say something, but they just close the door and look at me. 

“My name is Darius and this is my colleague Purnia.” The male officer says. “We would like it if you could come with us and answer some questions we have.” 

“Questions about what?” 

“About where you have been these last couple of weeks.” Purnia says as I feel the panic flare right up again. Oh this is dangerous, this is fucking dangerous. 

“Sure.” I mutter. 

“All right.” Darius smiles awkwardly. “Let’s go then.” 

“To where?” 

“The justice building.” Purnia replies. “That is where we do all of our interviews.” 

“Can’t we do it here?” I reply, too scared that someone will see me in the square. 

“Why? Are you afraid of something?” 

“It’s just.” I mutter. “I haven’t seen my parents in a while and I don’t want him to see me with two peacekeepers. I don’t want them to think that I did something wrong.” 

“Well, we can explain to them that you didn’t. We can explain to them that we are just bringing you in to ask a couple of questions.” She replies. 

“Still.” I mutter. “I would rather stay here.” 

“I am afraid that we can’t do that, Peeta.” Darius says. “Commander Cray wants to be there when we interview you and he asked us to bring you to him.” 

“Why? Why does he want to be there?” I ask, the panic slowly taking over more and more. “Did I do something wrong?” 

“No, Peeta. You didn’t.” Purnia replies. “It is just the way that things go. So if you want to follow us we would appreciate it.”

I quickly nod my head as I try to disappear further into my clothes. Pulling my shoulders up to my neck in anxiety. I can see Purnia and Darius look at each other, but there is nothing to say. I just have to get through this and try to save my own skin. 

We silently walk out of the school, down the path to the square and into the justice building. Miraculously I don’t come across anyone that I know. No one is on the path and the square is blissfully empty because it is still early. 

Once we are inside I am led to the main hall. There is a room on the side with the door open which they tell me to enter. The room doesn’t look like an interrogation room. It doesn’t look like a room where an official interview should be held. It looks more like a room which would house one of the tributes before they leave for the capitol. 

Commander Cray is in the room, pacing alongside the wall that has windows that look out on the train station. As soon as he hears us he turns around facing me with a look of concern on his face. 

“Ah Mr Mellark, please sit down.” He says, nodding at Purnia and Darius to leave us. 

I slowly sit down before I hear the door close behind me, making me acutely aware that I am alone in a room with this man that I do not know. I know that Cray doesn’t have a clean slate either. The rumors about the rows of seam girls lined up at his door in the hopes that he will fuck them for some extra cash are well known and thought to be more than just rumours. But he has never taken a boy, as far as I know. 

“Mr Mellark -” 

“Call me Peeta, sir. Mr Mellark is my father.” I mutter, feeling the tension in every part of my body.

“All right.” Cray smiles as he sits down on the table. “Peeta, you must be wondering why you are here?” 

I quickly nod my head. 

“Well, I have a couple of questions for you because there are a couple of people that are worried about you.” 

“Worried? About me?” I reply. “Who?” 

“Well, there are actually a couple of people. I have a report from Madge Undersee, backed by the Mayor, that she is worried about your current living arrangements. I also have a report made by one of your brothers about how he is worried that someone is forcibly keeping you away from home.” Cray replies. “And I have a report by Daffy Hawthorne.” 

“And what did she say?”

“That she was worried about your well being while you are living under one roof with her younger brother. Because you are, aren't you? You aren’t currently living at the bakery with your parents.” 

“I am not.” I confirm. 

“Care to tell me where you are currently living?” 

“In the seam.” I reply. “Single’s row. Same house as Silt McGee.” 

“And why is that?” 

“Because of reasons.” I reply. “It seemed safer to stay there instead of at the bakery.” 

“Care to tell me what reasons?” 

I shake my head at him, keeping my mouth tightly shut. 

“All right.” Cray huffs. “I am going to be honest with you, Peeta. Normally I don’t do anything with these kinds of reports. I don’t care for them because they don’t bother me. Most of the time they are a lot of fuss for absolutely nothing.”

“Then why bother with this one?” I ask. “Why not let this one go just like the rest of the worried reports you get?” 

“Because most of them are about neglected children. Most of them are worried neighbors and family members, begging me to do something. But often enough it is the duty of the parents to feed their children, not mine.” Cray replies, showing me just how cold his heart is. “Yours wasn’t though. None of the people that reported to me were worried about you getting fed. And I must say that a report backed by the Mayor does catch my attention.” 

“He expects you to do something about it.” I reply. “You are afraid he might report you if you don’t.” 

Cray doesn’t reply, but I see in his eyes that I am right. Purely because one of the reports came from Madge and her father means that I am here. For a moment I wonder if that is a good or a bad thing. 

“The nature of one of the reports also caught my eye. We talked to Daffy about her report this morning and she sounded really sure of herself that something was wrong.” Cray tells me. “She gave us some intel that made me want to talk to you.”

“And what intel was that?” I reply, sounding way braver than I feel. 

“That she suspected that Silt might be abusive towards you ever since you started living with him.” Cray replies, putting my secrets out there like it is nothing. “That he might in fact have been sexual with you against your will.” 

“And what made her make such statements?” I hiss, feeling threatened. 

“She told my officer a little about her brother’s past. How you showed her drawings that disturbed her and showed her a side of her late brother that she always suspected but that was never confirmed until now.” Cray replies. “On top of that she noticed your defensive stance when she would ask you about it and the way you flinched when she touched your arm. She told my officer that she recognized the things you did from when her brother was younger. From when her brother was being abused.” 

“She is seeing ghosts. Nothing happened.” I lie. “Maybe she is mad at him or something because I have no clue what she is talking about.” 

Cray stares at me for a moment before he gets up from the table. 

"Allright, Peeta.” He starts, walking towards the door. “I thought we could resolve this together without alerting anyone, but it seems like you don’t want to help me with that.” 

“What?” 

“Both your brother and Madge Undersee asked me not to involve your parents in this, but you leave me with no choice.” Cray replies, taking the door handle in his hand ready to push down.

“Wait!” I shout, close to tears out of fear. “Please don’t get them. I will talk to you.”  

“Will you?” Cray asks with a smirk on his face. 

“Yes, I will.” I reply. “Just don’t get them, please. Mom can’t know about any of this.” 

“And why is that?” Cray asks, walking back towards me as he sits down on the corner of the table again. 

“Because she will hate me for it. She will never want to see me again.” I mutter, staring at the table top instead of at him. “If you are going to take away both of my homes, I have no other place to stay.” 

“What will she hate you for?” 

“Everything.” I reply. 

“Why don’t you start at the beginning, Peeta?” 

“Alright.” I sigh, feeling trapped if I don’t want to involve my parents. “My mom has been abusive for quite a while. It started when my oldest brother was young and it passed through my middle brother down to me. Staying at our house is like walking on eggshells. It is hard to please her and when you make her angry, she acts out.” 

I fiddle my fingers in front of me, my anxiety going through the roof because I have to dissolve so many secrets. 

“One night she went too far. She hit me so hard that my brother took me away from home and brought me to his friend's house. He told me to stay there until I got better. Silt got very protective of me though. He told me that I could stay with him for as long as I needed and he defended me when Bran wanted me to go back home. Bran told me to pick a side, but I couldn’t. He told me that he didn’t want to see me anymore and I believed him so I stayed with Silt.” 

“What happened next?” 

“Silt started to treat me like a human being.” I mutter. “He told me that he cared about me and that I was a wonderful person that did not deserve the family I got. He made me feel safe and loved and -” 

“He took advantage of you.” Cray states at which I just nod my head. “In what way?” 

“At first it wasn’t really about force or anything. At first I wanted to please him. I wanted to make him happy. I took out tesserae for him because I wanted to thank him for taking care of me.” I reply. “Shortly after that he started to touch me while we were in bed. I am not really sure how it evolved but eventually it became more and more and then he did it.” 

“He did what, Peeta?” 

“You know.” I mutter, feeling small. 

“I can guess.” Cray replies. “But I need you to confirm it for me. Did he have sex with you?” 

I nod my head, feeling the tears billow out of the corner of my eye. 

“Was it once or?” 

“No.” I mutter. “It has been every night since the first time.” 

Cray sighs heavily. Almost like he is worried about all of the paperwork and the amount of time it will cost him to file it all. 

“Alright.” Cray mutters. “Let me get this straight. You moved in with Silt because your mom used to beat you. You started to trust him and he used that to rape you. Is that what it adds up to?” 

I swiftly nod my head, trying not to cringe at the casual way he just summed up my nightmare. 

“Okay.” He replies, sighing again. “Since you are a minor, I do have to inform your parents.” 

“No.” I almost shout, my eyes spread wide open. “Please, don’t do that. Please don’t tell them. Mom will kill me if she finds out! She will throw me out!” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Peeta. She won’t do such a thing. She is your mother.” Cray replies, getting up from the table and walking towards the door as I can feel my world crumble around me. “Have a little faith in her.” 

“You don’t know my mother if you think that having faith is all I need to do.” I hiss, overwhelmed by all the anxiety that courses through my body. 

“In fact I do know your mother. She is always very kind to me when I order another cake from her.” Cray replies, opening the door to talk to my parents and end my life. 

“Commander Cray, I didn’t know you were here.” I hear in the kind voice of Mayor Undersee. 

“I hadn’t planned on being here, Merle. But urgent business called me here.” 

“What urgent business?” 

“That report your daughter filed a few days ago.” Cray sighs. “I decided to talk to the Mellark boy about it. He confirmed some of the things that your daughter worried about.” 

“Oh no, did he?” Mayor Undersee replies, sounding upset.

“Unfortunately, yes. He is in there right now while I am going to get his mom or dad to inform them of my findings.” 

“You think that is wise?” 

“It doesn’t really matter what I think. He is a minor, law dictates that his parents are informed of my findings.” Cray replies. “So that is what I am doing.” 

“Of course, Gary. And I get that you have to follow the law but I think that discretion is advised in this case.” 

“And why is that?” Cray replies sounding agitated. 

“Because I have known Mr and Mrs Mellark for a long time. They are difficult people to navigate around and if they are difficult for me I can only imagine they are even more difficult for their sons.” Mayor Undersee replies. “Maybe you can let me talk to the boy before you make a hasty decision and make life even harder for him.”

Cray stays silent for a little while, like he is debating it. 

“You are not a peacekeeper, Merle.” 

“I know, I know.” Mayor Undersee replies. “It is not my goal to interrogate him. I just want to talk to him as a parent. As the father of one of his best friends. I am just asking you to postpone your talk with his parents until we know a little more.” 

“Alright, but I am staying in the room.”

“Of course, Gary. Of course you can.” 

I can hear two pairs of footsteps walking back towards me with Cray being the first one the step into the room, followed closely by Mayor Undersee. 

Mayor Undersee is known as a kind man. A man that uses his position to try and make this place a little better. A man that never gives up even if his tireless tries amount to nothing at all. Madge often tells me about his applications to get her mother some new kind of treatment in the Capitol and no matter how many times he is denied, he keeps trying. 

Merle Undersee isn’t that much older than my parents, but he looks older. It must be the weight of the district on his shoulders. But unlike my parents he has a smile on his face, a look of kindness that I never saw on my moms face in the years that I have known her. 

“Hi Peeta.” He says, smiling kindly as he sits down on the chair opposite mine. 

“Hi Mr Undersee.” I reply. “How is your wife doing?” 

“She is doing relatively well, thank you for asking.” Mayor Undersee replies with a smile. 

“And Madge? How is she?” I try, stalling having to talk about myself. 

“She is worried about you.” He replies. “And if I have to believe Commander Cray, rightfully so.” 

“Right.” I mutter, looking down. 

“It’s okay, Peeta. Whatever you feel, it’s okay.” 

I don’t know why but his words open all the flood gates and within seconds I am balling my eyes out. Sobbing heavily as my whole body trembles and shakes. 

Mayor Undersee just grabs my hand in his, squeezing it tightly. 

“Let it out, Peeta. Just let it all out.”

Chapter Text

Mayor Undersee just lets me be for a while. He just lets me cry without asking me why or telling me to stop. All the while he holds my hand like I am his son. 

“What is going on, Peeta?” He asks after I’ve calmed down. 

“I think I am just scared.” I mutter. 

“What are you scared of?” 

“Mom will kill me.” I mutter. “I won’t have a place to go if she finds out about what Silt did.” 

“What did Silt do?” Mayor Undersee asks with a kind voice. 

I remain silent, too afraid to say it until Cray’s heavy sigh makes me flinch. He sounds like he is annoyed with me, which is never a good thing with someone from law enforcement. 

“He admitted to me that Silton McGee raped him repeatedly.” Commander Cray mutters. “He allegedly lured him into trusting him and then he abused him.” 

Mayor Undersee’s face turns pale when he hears those words being said so casually. He swallows back something before he turns his gentle eyes on me. 

“I am so sorry that happened to you, Peeta.” He tells me. “Something like that should have never happened to you.”

“But it did.” I reply. “And mom is going to hate me for it.” 

“Why would she hate you for something that wasn’t your fault?” 

“Oh she will make it my fault. She will tell me that I could have prevented it. She will tell me that I should have seen the warning signs.” I reply. “And besides that, she will hate me for the rumors that will spread. She will hate me for deviling her perfect image. She will hate me for the fact that people will think I am gay. And she will hate me even more for the fact that Silt is from the seam. She absolutely hates the seam.” 

“Sometimes I wonder how your mom turned out as such a sour person. She was still some sort of decent when we were young.” Mayor Undersee mutters, almost like it is a remark to himself instead of to me. “What about your father, he was my friend when we were young.” 

“My father cares in his own way.” I reply. “He just lacks the backbone to stand up to her.” 

“Do you think he will listen to me if I talk to him?” 

“About what?” 

“About you returning home and not wanting to answer any questions?” 

“Mayor Undersee -” Cray starts just before Mr Undersee interrupts him. 

“I know, Commander. I know that there are rules. I know that there is a law to uphold. But we are going to do it differently this time around.” Mayor Undersee says with a determination in his eyes. “You are going to build a case against Silton McGee but his victim will remain a John Doe. No one will know who it is. No rumors will be spread as to what happened.” 

“I can’t do that.” Commander Cray replies. “There will be que-”

“You can and you will.” Mayor Undersee replies, turning around to face Cray. “Or your supervisor in the Capitol will find out why a legion of underage girls gather in front of your door every night. He will know why they are there. He will know how much you pay them for it and he will know that you are distributing Capitol money without a license or a reason. I wonder what he would do but I am pretty sure you don’t want to find out.” 

“Yes, sir.” Commander Cray mutters, sounding defeated. 

“Peeta, this is what we are going to do.” Mayor Undersee says, turning his attention to me. “Commander Cray is going to pick up Silt and build a case around him. I am going to take you and I am going to talk to your dad about leaving you alone.”

“You think he will take me back?” I mutter. 

“He doesn’t have a choice. I won’t give him one.” Mayor Undersee says with a slight smile. “And if he can’t get his wife under control, he will have to answer to me.” 

I can’t help but smile back at him. Feeling a little awkward but also weirdly important to this man that I hardly know but seems to know me. 

“Ready to go?” He asks, at which I nod my head. I get up from the chair to follow him out of the room but before I do I stop and turn around to face Commander Cray. 

“Commander?” 

“Yes, Mr Mellark?” 

“Silt talked about two other boys. One of them was the boy that was reaped last year, but the other never talked about it. I don’t know who it is, but you might want to look into it.” 

“I’ll look into it.” The commander says, sounding annoyed again. Like I am giving him too much work. 

Without another word I follow the Mayor out of the room and out of the Justice Building. He crosses the square faster than I want, going straight for the bakery that I haven’t been inside of for weeks. I am almost afraid that he will go up to the counter and face mom with me in tow but just before we enter he stops. 

“Wait here for a second. I will get your father outside.” 

I nod my head before I walk over to the apple tree, leaning against it to hide myself from view to the best of my abilities. I know that people can still see me, but the shadow does hide me in some way. 

I watch as Mayor Undersee steps inside of the Bakery, meeting my mother in front of the counter. I can see them both smiling, as if they are the best of friends, which I know they are not. My mother’s face turns serious when Mayor Undersee brings up my dad and after a few minutes my dad appears, his hands dirty with flour as he follows the Mayor outside. 

“What’s up, Merle?” Dad asks.

“I need your help.” Mayor Undersee says. “Or more your son needs your help.”

“Which one?” 

“Peeta.” 

“But I haven’t spoken to Peeta in weeks, Merle. I saw him Saturday in the square but he barely talked to me. He hasn’t been living at home.” 

“Well, from now on he is going to again.” Mayor Undersee replies. “He is going to come home and you are going to let him be.” 

“What does that mean?”

“It means that he does not have to answer you or your wife when you ask him questions about where he has been.” 

“We know where he has been -” 

“Or what has happened there.” 

Dad looks at Mayor Undersee in concern. 

“Did something happen to Peeta?” 

“Doug, please -” 

“He is my son, Merle! If something happened to him, I have a right to know!” 

“If he is your son, then why did he flee your house because his mother beat him up?” Mayor Undersee hisses. “Why is he so scared of what she might say or think that he begged Commander Cray to not talk to you?” 

“Merle -” 

“No, Doug. He is your responsibility! He is supposed to be safe in your household!” 

“I can’t change her! She has been this way ever since I met her!” 

“That doesn’t mean she can’t change. In fact she has to.” Mayor Undersee replies. “I will keep a close eye on your boys. I will act upon every tiny little thing I hear from Madge about Peeta. And if you can’t manage to keep them safe, I will take them away. Both him and his brothers.” 

“You can’t do that!” 

“I can and I will.” The Mayor replies. “The community home isn’t the best place but at least they don’t get beaten there.” 

“And how do you expect me to turn Mina around?” Dad replies. “How do you expect me to do something that I haven’t been able to manage for years and years?”

“Tell her what will happen if she doesn’t. Let her know how her perfect image can be destroyed in the blink of an eye.” The Mayor replies. “And we’ll see how fast she changes.” 

“Fine.” Dad mutters. “When will he be home?” 

“Peeta?” The Mayor asks, looking in my direction which makes me push away from the tree and walk towards them, my hands buried deep inside my pockets, my gaze fixed on the ground. 

I can feel my dad’s heavy hand slap me on my shoulder as a welcome back before his hand disappears and the white outline made of flour remains. 

“Get inside, son.” He mutters. “We’ll find you something to do.” 

“Yes, dad.” I mutter before I start walking towards the front door with dad on my heels. I enter the shop first, staring into the angry face of my mother which makes me halt instantly.

“Look who finally saw reason and decided to show up.” She hisses. “Did you finally realize life on the seam wasn’t as perfect as you imagined it? Did you finally become too annoying for that bastard to keep you? Did you finally -” 

“Mina!” Dad says, sounding more demanding than I have ever seen him. “Let it go. He is back, that is all that matters.” 

Mom seems taken aback and for a moment I wonder what she is going to do but the look on my dad’s face must tell her that he does not want her to talk back. That he wants her to let it go and let me pass. Which, to my surprise, she does. 

“Why don’t you go in the back, Peeta? Dad will be with you to tell you what you can do.” 

I nod my head as I walk past her and into the back area of the bakery. Within moments I feel back at home. The smell of fresh bread wafts my way as I can see all the preparations for the decoration of a cake at the counter. I must be what dad was working on. 

I step closer to the counter to look at the design. It isn’t bad but it also isn’t the best that dad has ever done, I instantly see a couple of spots that could be better and more detailed. 

“You must see a thousand things that could be better.” Dad states as he sees me stare at his design. 

“It is decent.” I mutter. 

“Decent?” Dad huffs, leaning against the doorpost. “That is a kind way of telling me that it is no good.” 

A small smile appears on my face, suddenly remembering how much I miss working on these things with dad. The passion that we share, the calming peace in which we work together. 

“You want to help?” 

“Yeah, dad. I do.” I reply as I reach for my baker’s whites. 

And just like that we are back to what we always were. When Bran returns from a delivery he is surprised to find me in the bakery. Dad takes him aside for a small moment before they come back and Bran tells me that he is happy I am back. 

My encounter with the peacekeepers spread like wildfire through the school and when Rye returns he looks at me with wide eyes. He probably did not expect me to be here and for a moment he doesn’t know what to say. Dad quickly starts to tell him what to do, leaving no room for him to ask questions. 

We quickly settle back in a routine and for a few days I can pretend that I am just the old Peeta. For a few days I can pretend that absolutely nothing happened while I was with Silt. For a few days there is this silent peace that all of us enjoy. But that peace is shattered when my nightmares hit. 

I am home about a week when I wake up absolutely terrified and frozen in the middle of the night. In my nightmare Silt was on top of me, forcing me to open my legs and ready to push in. I must have woken up as he was about to do it because the panic is so vivid and deep that I am panting. 

Rye is still dead asleep, but I am not so lucky when it comes to Bran. He woke up when I did even though I did not scream.

“Peeta? Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I mutter, turning around so my back is to him. “Just a nightmare. That’s all.” 

But it doesn’t just stay a nightmare. From that point on I wake up a couple of times, night after night, to the feeling of hands on and in my body. I rationally know that it isn’t real, but it feels so real. It feels like his nails are clawing at my hips, it feels like his fingers are pushing inside of me and spreading me open. 

I want to ignore it and go on, but it gets harder and harder. Bran regularly wakes up during one of my nightmares, always asking me if I am alright. I always tell him that I am, even though I start to doubt that more and more. Madge watches me like a hawk, must be because her father told her to, and it gets harder and harder to hide the dark circles under my eyes from my lack of sleep. 

As much as I want to pretend that my stay with Silt hasn’t bothered me, I can’t. I can’t deny that it happened. It is just hard to talk about it when nobody really knows what happened. No one but Silt and me. 

Three weeks after the nightmares start I get a visit from Darius and Purnia. They just show up on a Tuesday afternoon after school asking if they can talk to me. Rye is with me in the backroom while dad and Bran are doing deliveries. Mom is curious and tries to ask them what it is about but they quickly tell her it is confidential and that they are not allowed to talk about it with anyone but me. 

I lead both of them towards the back door, taking them outside to the little storage area behind the bakery before I apologize about the mess. 

“I’m sorry. This is the only place that is really private.”

“It’s fine, Peeta.” Purnia tells me. “We know that privacy is a luxury here in Twelve.” 

“So what are you here for?” I ask, grabbing one of the buttons on my shirt to give my hands something to do. 

“We are here to give you an update on how things are going with Silt.” Darius tells me. “I am sure you know that he has been in jail since the day we talked to you.” 

“I hadn’t really thought about it.” I mutter, being totally honest with them. “I tried to not think about it too much.” 

“And how did that work out?” Purnia asks. 

“During the day it works.” I reply, not elaborating further but seeing a certain level of understanding in Purnia’s eyes. 

Darius clears his throat before he looks at me with a serious face. 

“We questioned Silt but he denied all allegations. He told us that he let you stay with him for a couple of weeks because you needed a place to crash and he was friends with your older brother, but he said that nothing happened.” Darius tells me. “When we asked him why you would say such a thing if it hadn’t happened, he told us that you were disturbed and struggling with your sexuality.” 

I swallow heavily before I manage to look at him. 

“Did you ask him about the other boys?” 

Purnia nods her head with a sad smile on her face. 

“We did, but he denies that too. He told us that he did help Jett Reemer last summer when his parents were going through some tough times but he denied ever doing something to him. We can’t ask Jett of course and the identity of the second boy remains a mystery. Silt won’t talk about it and you know he exists but don’t know who it is, so there is no way for us to talk to him.” 

“Right.” I mutter. “So what happens now?” 

“We are going to try and keep him for as long as we can so we have another chance to find out who the other boy could be and talk to him. But if we do not find him there will come a point in which we have to let him go without charging him.” 

“So my story isn’t enough?” 

“Sadly, it’s not. There is no real evidence. It is his word against yours and in that case he is innocent until proven guilty.” Darius says with a sad smile. 

“Don’t lose hope though.” Purnia ads. “Maybe we will crack him and find out who this second boy is. Maybe we can still get him to slip and give us a confession.” 

"It's fine.” I reply. “I never expected you to catch him. I am just glad that I no longer have to live with him.” 

Purnia frowns slightly. 

“Peeta, what he did was wrong. He deserves to be punished for it.” 

“I know.” I mutter. “And I know you are trying, but I just want everything to return to normal. I just want to forget it happened and move on.” 

“You won’t.” Purnia replies. “You will never be able to forget what he did to you, no matter how hard you try.” 

I remain silent as I put my hands in my pockets, staring at the ground as I try to keep the tears at bay. I don’t want to cry again. I don’t want to admit that he hurt me. I am hurting every night already, I don’t want to hurt during the day too. 

“Have you talked to someone about it?” Purnia asks. 

“No.” I mutter. “There is no one that knows what really happened.” 

“Then maybe you should tell someone.” Darius says. “Maybe you should trust someone with your story and get it off your chest. Keeping it pent up inside never did anyone any good.” 

“And who am I supposed to tell?” 

“Maybe one of your brothers? Aren’t you close to one of them?” Darius suggests. “Or how about a friend? The mayor’s daughter?” 

“Yeah, right. And what do I tell them?” I reply. “‘I haven’t really talked to you in months but I would like to talk to you now, oh and by the way I was raped by my brother’s friend.’ Now that is a great way to start a conversation!” 

“They will understand, Peeta.” Purnia tells me. “They will understand why you haven’t talked to them. They will understand why you have changed.” 

“I haven’t.” I mutter. “I won’t let this change me. I won’t let him change me.” 

“It already has, Peeta. Whether you want it to or not.” Darius tells me. “Think about talking to someone. It might be helpful.” 

“I’ll consider it.” I mutter, which satisfies them for now. 

“That is all we can ask.” Purnia says with a smile. “Now, we will be in touch if anything changes. Don’t hesitate to contact us if you need anything.” 

“Thank you.” I reply before they take off through the backyard and walk out onto the road. I stare after them until they are gone before I let out a heavy sigh and walk towards the back door of the bakery. 

When I enter the back room it is awfully quiet. Normally there would be the sound of Rye working on something but now there is nothing but absolute silence. When I look around I can see that Rye is still there. Frozen in time with his eyes wide open.

It doesn’t take long for me to realize why. It makes sense the moment I notice the open window next to where he is working. And with a pang in my heart I realize that he heard every word. 

He knows.

Chapter Text

The look on my brother’s face is hard to describe. There is a mixture of disgust, pity and shock. Almost like he is trying to come to terms with what he just heard. Like he is trying to come to terms with what I am dealing with. 

“Peeta?” It isn’t my brother though, it is mom, standing in the doorway to the store. “Care to tell me what this was all about?” 

“No, mom.” I mutter. “Like they said, it was confidential.” 

“So confidential that you can’t tell your own parents about it? Is that even legal?” She asks, her arms crossed in front of her chest. 

“I don’t know.” I mutter. “I don’t know every part of the law of Panem.” 

“It would be easier if you just told me.”

“It would be even easier if you would just let it go.” I reply. “I am not going to tell you.” 

“And why is that? Why are you suddenly so entitled that you think you can keep things from me?” 

“I am not entitled.” I hiss. “I just want some privacy. I just want to have some secrets that no one needs to know about.” 

“That’s rich.” Mom huffs. “You expect to return to this house after weeks of ignoring us and all of sudden you have secrets you need to keep? Who do you think you are?” 

“Your son, mom! You might want to deny it, but I am still your son. I still have rights!” 

“Don’t you dare talk to me -”

“Let it go, mom.” Rye says from behind me, making both of us look at him in surprise. He has never defended me before. He has never spoken up for me when I was too scared or too numb to do so.

“What?” 

“Can’t you see that he does not want to talk about it?” Rye replies. “Be his mother for once and let it go.” 

“Rye, it’s fine.” I mutter, afraid that mom will lash out at him for this. 

“No, it’s not.” Rye replies. “I have witnessed this far too many times and I didn’t do a thing during all those times. This time I am going to do something.” 

“And what are you going to do, Rye?” Mom asks. “Jump in front of him like he is some kind of toddler that needs protection?” 

“If that is what it takes, then yes, I will jump in front of him.” Rye replies, surprising me by literally stepping in front of me. “But not because he is a toddler, just because he deserves to keep something to himself!” 

Mom is fuming opposite us and to my surprise she turns around and walks back into the shop without another word. The awkward silence between Rye and me fills the air until Rye turns around to face me. 

There is a sadness in his eyes that I don’t want to face. An understanding of what I went through that I don’t want to see.

“Peeta -” 

“Don’t, Rye. Just don’t.” I reply. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. I don’t want your pity. I just want to forget it ever happened.” 

He stares at me for a moment before he has to avert his eyes. 

“That bad?” 

“Yeah.” I reply. 

“Who else knows?” 

“No one.” I mutter. “Commander Cray does and I guess everyone that is working on the investigation. But no one else.” 

“Not even Bran?” 

I shake my head.

“And it is going to stay that way. Mom will kill me if she finds out and I don’t want anyone else to know. The fact that you know is bad enough.” 

Rye nods his head, telling me that he understands but is not able to put more words to his answer. I nod back before we both get back to our chores. 

No one says anything about the visit from the peacekeepers and no one even hints that there is anything wrong. We all return back to normal as I return to my makeshift days and nightmare filled nights. 

Until it turns to sunday. The miners are free on Sunday but the merchants don’t have that luxury. Sunday morning is a busy part of the day for us in order to prepare for the rest of the week. We prepare the order that the peacekeepers want delivered at the beginning of the afternoon before I get upstairs to work on my homework. 

Usually we have some free time in the afternoon to either work on stuff for school or spend some well earned time with friends. Bran usually delivers the bread to the base before he takes off and doesn’t return for a couple of hours, Rye spends all of his time outside of the house. So when I hear heavy footsteps on the stairs I am surprised. One of them is already back. 

A few seconds later the door to our room opens, revealing a panting Bran in the doorway. There must have been a reason to come running here and I am not sure I like it. 

“We need to talk.” He mutters, his eyes wide. 

“We don’t need to do anything.” I reply, turning back towards my homework while my heart is beating faster and faster. 

“Alright, let me rephrase. Can we talk?” Bran quickly corrects which surprises me. 

“Depends on what you want to talk about.” I mutter, not looking at him. 

“I think you know what it is about.” 

I freeze completely and he notices it immediately. My shoulders start to shake as I can feel Bran sit down on the bed beside me, his eyes worried and totally focused on me. 

“I decided to go and talk to Silt today, to see if we could at least become friends again after everything. But when I showed up at his house, he wasn’t there. In fact it looked like no one had been there for a while. I know where Daffy lives so I decided to go over to her and ask.” Bran tells me letting out a heavy sigh. “She told me that Silt had been arrested and that he has been in jail ever since. She was actually quite surprised that I didn’t know that had happened and that I didn’t know why.” 

“Did she tell you why?” I ask, an unmistakable tremble in my voice.

“She did.” Bran confirms. “She told me that he has been arrested on charges of sexual assault and rape.” 

“And?” I ask, when he remains silent after that. 

“And that has me worried. Because I know that Silt is not interested in girls or women. And because I know who lived with him for the last couple of months.” Bran replies. “I can see that something is different, Peet. I noticed it as soon as you returned, I just couldn’t guess what had caused it.” 

“And now that you know you think you can make it better.” I state. “You think you can make it all disappear by telling me you are sorry.” 

“No.” Bran replies. “I can say sorry all I want, but it won’t go away. I just want you to know that if you need to talk, you can.” 

“So you can tell mom and dad about it?” I sneer.

“And why would I do that?” Bran asks. “Why would I tell them about this?” 

“Because she will ask, Bran. She will want to know. It is only a matter of time.” 

“And when she does I will tell her that it is none of her business.” Bran replies. “You think I am going to tell her when you’ve kept my secrets for so long? Why do you think I never told her about my feelings? About what my relationship with Silt was really like? Because I know how she will react and I feared her reaction. I am not going to tell her and let her one-sided brain form an opinion about you.” 

“You won’t?” 

“No!” Bran says. “Why on earth would I do that? I know that I failed you in these last couple of weeks. It feels like it is my fault that whatever happened, happened. I should have never let you stay with Silt. I should have known that he was capable of something like this. It feels like I failed you over and over and over again and that has to stop now.” 

“To be fair, I did not really work with you on that front. You tried to get me home and I refused.” 

“Yes, you did. And it makes me wonder why. If he wasn’t treating you well, why did you stay?” Bran asks, a gentle look on his face. 

“Because at first he was kind and caring and he gave me something that mom and dad never gave me.” I reply. “He made me feel like I belonged. Like I was worth something and that someone cared about me. He called me special and wonderful and he made me feel loved.”

“I can imagine why you would want to stay.” Bran mutters. 

“It also trapped me though.” I mutter. “After you and I had that second fall out in which you told me you never wanted to see me again -” 

“Peet -” 

“He told me that I had nowhere to go. That there was no place for me but with him.” I mutter. “So when he started to ask for kisses, I consented.” 

Bran squeezes my hand tightly, not saying anything and for a moment it feels like the old days. Like the days in which Bran protected me. In which Bran made me feel safe and valued. For a moment it is like nothing happened between us. 

“After the kisses came the bathing together, the touching each other, the -” I swallow heavily, unable to go on. 

“The what, Peet? What happened?” 

“The fingers in places I didn’t want them.” I mutter, feeling the tears in the corners of my eyes start up again. “And he kept telling me that he was all that I had. That everyone would hate me if I ever talked about it. That mom would throw me on the street. That staying with him was the best choice.” 

I sigh heavily. 

“He told me that he could see that I liked it.” I reply, looking at the endless rows of math problems in front of me. “That the way my body reacted told him that I enjoyed being with him. I almost started to believe him. Why else would it do that?” 

“Because -” Bran starts before I interrupt him. 

“It’s all just confusing.” I mutter. “I liked being loved and valued. I liked how he called me handsome. How he told me all the girls should be fighting over me. But then I also know that what he did was wrong. I know that he used me. I know that he trapped me into letting him do things I did not want. But he also cared. He prepared me for it for two weeks. He could have just done it without even considering what it would be like for me.”

“It?” 

I close my eyes for a moment as this weird sting of pain flashes through my lower body. Like my body remembers what happened and wants me to remember how much it hurt. How much it harmed my body. 

“Peet?” Bran tries again after I have remain silent for a while. “Did he -” 

“Did he what?” I reply, sounding more calm than I actually feel. “Call it by its name, Bran.” 

“Did he rape you?” 

The word rape sounds so harsh. So incredibly demeaning. Somehow it sounds so much worse than assault. Rape sounds like a crime, a forbidden word. While assault could be something that I could find in a textbook in the school library. 

“He had sex with me.” I reply. “I don’t think it was rape every time.” 

“Why not?” 

“I didn’t say no half the time.” I reply. “I might have protested at the beginning, but after a while it just became easier to let it happen. To just let him do what he wanted and go to sleep.” 

“After a while?” Bran asks, swallowing heavily. “How many times did he do that?” 

“I don’t know.” I mutter. “About every night since he started. Sometimes in the morning too or even more if he was really mad at me.” 

“Was he mad at you a lot?” 

“No, not really.” I sigh. “Just once actually but that one was bad.” 

“What happened?” Bran asks, sounding more calm and reserved than I ever imagined he could be. 

“Tied me to his bed.” I mutter, not elaborating further on what happened. Bran must be able to paint the picture himself. There is no need for me to illustrate how naked I was or how much I was bleeding or how much I cried. 

“Right.” Bran mutters. “What did you do to deserve that?” 

“I talked to Daffy.” I mutter. “I found Silt’s sketchbook and he had all these drawings of genitals and boys having sex and I came across a drawing that showed Ash having sex with someone. I figured that Daffy needed to know so I showed her. Telling her about what I thought Ash had done to Silt when they were younger.” 

“What did she do?” 

“She was shocked. And she asked me if he was doing anything to me. I denied that.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I was scared, I guess. Silt had threatened that he would spread these rumors about how I was gay and that I slept around with everyone that I could find if I ever talked to anyone about it. And I did not want that.” 

“Because you did not want to be called gay?” Bran asks, a look of confusion on his face. “I thought you had no problem with guys who are gay.” 

“I don’t. I had a problem with what mom would do if she found out.” I reply as a look of understanding dawns on Bran’s face. “Where would I have gone if mom would have kicked me out? There would have been no place where I could have stayed. No place but the place I knew then, Silt’s place. So I told her that there was nothing wrong and went back to Silt’s place. She had a different idea and she went to the mines to wait for Silt to be done with his shift. She talked to him and showed him the sketchbook or something because when he came home he had it and he was fuming. That is when he told me to strip and tied me to his bed. I stayed there from Saturday evening till Monday morning before I went to school.” 

“How many times -” Bran starts, before he stops mid sentence.

“How many times what, Bran? How many times did he kiss me? How many times did he make me cum? How many times did he make me promise him to stay with him? How many times did he fuck me dry until I was bleeding? How many times what, Bran?” I hiss looking at him intently until I see a single tear slip down his cheek. 

It confuses me to see him cry. Bran never cries. It is one of moms things to beat that weakness out of us. According to her, boys can’t cry. 

“Bran?” 

“I let you down.” He mutters. “I left you there to deal with it on your own. I ignored every inkling, every sign that told me something was off and I left you there.” 

“You didn’t know.” 

“But I should have. I should have known. I should have done something.” He mutters. “I haven’t been protecting you in years. In a way I have always been a coward. A part of me was so happy when she moved her attention away from me. A part of me applauded that she had moved on to Rye. But then Rye turned out to be so god forsaken perfect and she moved on to you.” 

“That wasn’t your fault.” 

“No, it wasn’t. But that doesn’t mean that I couldn’t have done something. That doesn’t mean that I didn’t see how much you were struggling. How hard you worked to be perfect but never seemed to manage it well enough for her. I tried to ignore the fact that there would never be a respite for you because there was no younger sibling for her to torment next. I let it all happen to a point where home was no longer safe for you and we, and I mean all of us, drove you in the arms of an even bigger monster.” 

“You were a child too, Bran.” 

“In the beginning, yeah. But not in these last couple of years.” Bran replies. “I am strong enough now and I have been strong enough for years to do something and I didn’t. I could have prevented all of this, and I didn’t.” 

“It wouldn’t have made a difference.” I reply. “Silt would have found another boy to torment.” 

“What?” 

“I wasn’t the only one. He took advantage of young boys before and he would have done it again.” 

“How do you know?” 

“He told me about it.” I mutter. “When he was angry and he had me tied up on his bed, he taunted me with it. Telling me that I was special but that I was not the only one. That he had managed to force them into silence and that he would do that with me as well. One of them, he said, was easy because he was reaped last year.” 

Bran’s eyes grow big in an instead. 

“Wasn’t that a twelve year old?” 

I simply nod my head, watching him make the same gruesome connection that I had when I heard it. 

“And the other just never talked. He kept his mouth shut for whatever reason and I have no clue who it is.” I reply. “The peacekeepers tried to find him but they are out of luck as well because Silt won’t talk.” 

“That pervert.” Bran hisses. “How the hell did I ever fall in love with that guy?” 

“Well, he is charming and good looking at first.” I reply. “And he is about the only gay guy in the district that even admits he is gay. That must have appealed to you.” 

“I guess it did. Even back then.” 

We remain silent for a while, just sitting next to each other and saying nothing. For a moment there does not need to be anything. For a moment it is just us, in silence and that is perfect. 

“Do you think he could have been different?” I ask Bran. “Like if Ash hadn’t abused him as a kid?” 

“I don’t know.” Bran replies. “Maybe.” 

“He must have felt so lost after Ash got reaped. He must have felt like no one would understand him until he warped his own story in his head to something positive. He made this picture of a perfectly normal relationship between two brothers.” I mutter. “I don’t think he even realizes anymore how fucked up it really was.” 

“Still does not give him the right to do it to others.” 

“No it doesn’t.” I mutter. “I am sure as hell not going to beat up my kids like mom.” 

“Speaking of kids.” Bran says, a faint glimmer in his eyes. “There is a little secret I might need to tell you.” 

“What the hell did you do now?” I chuckle. 

“Well.” Bran stammers. “Elory and I signed this intent to get married and we kind of celebrated that with an old bottle of wine that we found in their attic. And -”

“And?” I ask, unable to hide the giant smile on my face. 

“Well, one thing led to another and Elory might be a little bit pregnant.” Bran mutters with a smirk on the corners of his mouth. 

“Bran! Tell me you didn’t!” I laugh, slapping his arm. “Oh mom is going to love this. You are going to be the new runt of the family!” 

“Hey! It was an accident!” 

“Yeah, sure. An accident that will never go away now.” I reply, smiling at him. “Congratulations.” 

“Thanks.” Bran replies, looking sheepishly at me. “Now how on earth am I going to tell mom?” 

“Well, you might need to bring a set of body armor.”

“Yeah, thanks for the tip.” Bran replies, getting up from the floor. “Are you coming? Dinner will be ready soon.” 

I nod my head before I watch him leave. Feeling a lot more at peace than I did before.

Chapter Text

In the end mom takes the news pretty well. She is worried about the scandal that the child might cause for only a second before she switches to absolute joy about it. Telling everyone that she hopes this one will finally be a girl. 

To keep the scandal to a minimum, the wedding process speeds up. Bran and Elory wait for the required two weeks before they tie the knot, have a toasting and move into their own little apartment on the square. We celebrate with a modest cake, decorated by me, and a tiny party for the people that are close to the couple. 

Despite my thoughts about Bran’s sexuality and his arranged marriage to Elory, they look genuinely happy. When I look at Bran I see a devotion in his eyes. A total and utter devotion for the woman next to him and the child in her belly. When I look at Elory I see a wonderful, kind hearted woman. A woman that you wish for every man. 

She knows that Bran is gay and she doesn’t care. She knows that he might struggle with his feelings and still she will be there for him every step of the way. And I can only admire that in her. 

As the weeks pass, things get better and better for me. The nightmares never fade but they do get less daunting and less frequent. Both my brothers keep their mouths shut and with the wedding and the upcoming baby, my mom loses interest in my secrets. Dad still looks at me sideways every once in a while, especially when I have some kind of flashback or panic attack. But he never asks, no one does. 

It sure helps that the peacekeepers don’t come knocking on our door again to talk to me. On the one occasion that they do need me, Darius and Purnia wait for me near the school. Taking me for a walk while they tell me that they have to drop the investigation and in result release Silt. 

It doesn’t really surprise me and I thank them for the time and effort they put into it, but it does cause a flare up in nightmares. Making some of them so vivid that I actually wake up Rye in the middle of the night. When he asks me what is wrong I tell him about the fear I have for coming across Silt in public, the fear of hearing rumors about me going around the district as payback. 

Rye assures me that won’t happen and it doesn’t surprise me that I see him and Bran talking behind the bakery the next day. I don’t interrupt them but I do hear bits and pieces of their conversation. Words like ‘scare him’, ‘payback’ and ‘nightmare’. I can also hear Bran trying to talk sense into Rye and Rye telling him that it is their time to defend the family. 

It weirdly doesn’t bother me. I just let it all slide past me like it doesn’t matter. Trying to leave Silt behind and go on with my life. It almost seems like my brothers have a harder time with that than I do.

For about a week I think that Bran was able to convince Rye to not do anything, to not make it worse. But then the rumors start to spread. Luckily they aren’t about me, but they are about Silt. 

There are wild stories about how he got mugged and beaten on his way home. About how they ransacked his place. About how he was tied up and locked in his home. 

The truth remains somewhere in the middle but I soon discover that Rye has something to do with it when dad has a heated conversation with him about it. I don’t know how many times dad asks him why. I don’t know how many times he tries to find out the true extent of the attack. But in the end Rye doesn’t answer anything. He just tells dad that Silt deserved it and that he paid for his crimes. That he had good intentions but that he does not want anyone to know about them.

In the end dad comes up with some weird story about how Rye and Silt had a falling out at school a few years back and that this was the ultimate conclusion of that fight when anyone asks him about it. All to keep the scrutiny off of our backs and keep mom happy. 

I am just happy that I don’t come across Silt anywhere. Whatever Rye did, it was effective because I don’t see him in the square or near the schoolyard. It is not like I go any other places and I especially do not go into the seam. I don’t take walks like I used to and everyone just seems to accept that. I am perfectly fine with staying home or in the square because underneath everything there is still the fear of what might happen if I do cross paths with him. 

After a few week break I return to training with the wrestling team. Coach is happy to have me back and for the first time ever Rye and I train together. It is almost like this whole situation has brought us closer together. Like we suddenly understand each other better and are able to communicate without many words. 

We are often the last two people in the gym, battling it out on the mat until coach forces us to go home. We work towards the end of the year championships together by fighting each other in the Winter Round as a first test. Rye wins, big time. Which makes me even more motivated to train harder and go on. 

The new year arrives and at the end of January I turn sixteen. Adding another slip to the bowl bringing my grand total to ten. The reaping is still months away as another Victory Tour washes through our district.

The tour remembers Aloy and Jett and it makes me acutely aware of what I know about the young boy in the pictures. The boy that looks terrified and broken. The look that I understand so much better now than I did before. 

I watch as his parents are forced to go through a very public way of ripping open their healing wounds. Being forced to stand in front of his picture with a camera on their face as they openly grieve. Their last remaining child, a little girl that can’t be older than four, clutching to her mother’s side. 

For a moment I wonder if he ever told them. For a moment I wonder if I should. 

I spend weeks and weeks debating what to do until I finally find the courage to set foot in the seam again. I deliberately take a detour to get to their house without having to walk past Silt’s house. I am not going to risk seeing him and facing the consequences of that. I simply don’t trust myself to not panic at seeing him. 

When I reach their run down house, I stop. What the hell am I even doing? How am I going to tell these grieving parents that their son was suffering even more when he died? How am I going to tell them this without breaking their heart?

My hand pauses to knock on the door, almost doing it but not quite able to pull through. 

What are they gaining with this? Would it really help them to know about this? Would it really help them to know how much Jett was suffering even before he went to the Capitol? 

I can feel the rift inside myself, knowing that if I don’t tell them, Silt will win. Keeping all of us silent and keeping his secret contained. But if I do tell them I bring them even more pain, more suffering. Maybe they will even blame themselves because they were not able to protect him. Maybe they will blame themselves because they trusted Silt and he betrayed them. 

Jett is the same as Ash in a way. When he was reaped he became this hero. This kid who got the worst of luck but was kind and nice and loved by so many. The kid whose secrets will forever be forgotten and overshadowed by bigger things. 

Ash’s secrets protected him from scrutiny and justice which worked in Ash’s favor. Jett’s secrets protect him from shame and a different kind of justice. 

He will never get true justice. Not for what Silt did and not for what the Capitol did to his family. But maybe he doesn’t need justice, in a way. Telling his parents about what happened to him is not going to get justice. It is only going to cause more pain, more heartbreak. 

Jett can’t talk about it anymore. He can’t tell anyone about what happened to him but he is also at peace. He might have met a violent end, but it did stop his suffering. It did stop his pain and his feeling of guilt. It did stop the waves of shame that I can only imagine hurt him because they hurt me too. 

Am I really going to burden his parents with this? Isn’t it bad enough that it happened? Isn’t it bad enough they lost their son? Do I really have to make it worse?

No, you don’t. 

Before I really make a conscious decision, I turn around and walk away. Leaving the Reemers blissfully oblivious to the horrors that their son hid from them. 

Instead of going back to the square I walk towards the cemetery, making my way past the crumbling headstones and other makeshift memorials right to the big monument at the edge of the forest. It is the hunger games memorial, the place where every slain tribute rests. Taking even the choice of the final resting place away from the people that care about them. 

My eyes fly over the rows and rows of names as I halt at the big marble monument. There are 125 names. The 125 names of 125 innocent tributes. There should be 146, but they only started registering names after the eleventh games. Before that the bodies never came back and the victors weren’t registered. Twelve won once in those years but no one alive remembers who it was. 

My eyes go over the names, recognizing some surnames that make me stop to think. The first name that I come across is Maysilee Donner, Madge’s aunt. Madge talks about her with great pride but she never revealed details about her death apart from the fact that it was a Quell year and that she died in the games that Haymitch Abernathy, our only living victor, won. 

My eyes fly over Victoria Cartwright next, Delly’s older cousin who was the first merchant in ages that was reaped a few years ago during the 65th games. The costumes that year were absolutely terrible, covering the tributes in coal dust and only that during the parade. I was about seven when she was reaped and I still remember that the Cartwrights had to keep their shop open after her death because they weren’t her immediate family. 

My eyes come across the 69th games next and Ash’s name under the tag of the male tribute. If only he knew what he caused. If only he was aware of how fucked up Silt became because of his actions. How fucked up it became because he became a tribute and could no longer be charged or accused of anything. 

If only you knew, Ash. How you influenced my life four years after your death. How you influenced Jett’s life, and that of the boy that is out there somewhere struggling on his own. 

Jett’s name is freshly carved into the marble, something that happens as soon as the victor of the games is crowned by a Capitol official. The name, the age and the placement in their games alongside a small version of their official games picture. It is almost grotesque and so un-twelve-like. 

Even in death they are stealing from them. Jett must have been so much more than the words behind his name. He was so much more than Jett Reemer, 12 years old, 22nd place. But no one cared about that. To the Capitol that was what his life was all about. 

It feels weird to notice that I have this urge to get to know this boy. I want to know about his hobbies, his friends and his life. I want to know how he felt, what he did to cope with all that happened, how he dealt with the inevitable end. 

“Aren’t you one of the Mellark boys?” I suddenly hear behind me. The voice is slightly slurred which makes me acutely aware of who is there with me. 

When I turn around I look straight into the face of our only living victor and known drunkard, Haymitch Abernathy. 

“I am, sir.” 

“No need to sir me.” Haymitch mutters. “I am just surprised you are here, normally this is the spot for lonely drunken men with too much time and too much money.” 

“That sounds depressing.” I mutter, which makes him laugh out loud. It feels out of place in a graveyard but I guess that he must know that better than me. 

“It is. It really is.” Haymitch mutters sitting down on the marble bench that they put in front of the monument. “So what are you doing here?” 

“I am not sure.” I mutter. 

“Well, what brought you here?” He slurs, taking a sip out of a little flask he has with him. 

“I was on my way to Jett’s parents but before I reached them I turned around and went here instead.” 

“Ah Jett, so small, so terrified.” Haymitch says. “Did you know him?” 

“No, I didn’t. He was Seam, I am town. Plus he was three years younger than me.” I mutter. “I didn’t even really know about him until a couple of weeks ago.” 

“And why is that?” 

“Because we crossed paths with the same person. A person that, let’s say, changed both of our lives.” 

“In a good way?” He asks, petting the marble beside him. 

I sit down with a sigh, not really sure why I am conviding in this stranger. But then again, what else am I supposed to do? He actually got to know Jett a bit. 

“No, not at all.” I reply, staring at the little picture of Jett in front of me. “But it does make me wonder what he was like. It makes me long to get to know him but there is no way for me to do that. I won’t ask his parents and I won’t ask the person that hurt him.” 

Haymitch remains silent for a while until he takes a deep breath. 

“He was a kind boy. Compassionate, caring and strong for his age. Strong mentally mostly even though he was scared shitless.” Haymitch sighs. “He knew that he had no chance and it didn’t even really bother him personally. He was mostly worried about how his parents were going to deal with another dead child.” 

I look up at Haymitch but he is staring at the monument, lost in thought. 

“He was wise for his age, asking all these kinds of existential questions that he shouldn’t even have worried about. Like how it would feel to be stabbed by a sword. Or what would be less painful, dying of starvation or dying of dehydration. He even asked me what it would feel like to die.” 

“What was your answer?” 

“I told him that I don’t know about swords but that being stabbed with an axe hurts like hell. I told him that both starvation and dehydration are tough on your body but the dehydration happens faster so it might be nicer and I told him that I don’t know what it feels like to die, but that the time I came close it felt peaceful.” 

“You didn’t sugarcoat it.” 

“Well, I wasn’t going to lie to a dying boy.” Haymitch mutters before he takes another drink. “He deserved honesty.” 

I can’t argue with that, staring at the young boy in the picture. It must have been hard to have to think about those things at twelve years old. It must have been hard to know so much suffering and have no way to escape it. 

“Sometimes I wonder what went on in his little head. What was bothering him so much.” 

“What do you mean?” I ask him. 

“There was a sense of relief in his eyes when I told him that death could be peaceful. Almost like I gave him the solution to all of his problems.”

“Maybe you did.” I mutter, understanding Jett a little better. “Maybe he did feel like it was too much for him to handle. Maybe he was glad that he had a way out. That he could end his suffering.” 

Haymitch looks at me with a certain interest, almost like he wants to ask me more about it but doesn’t. Like he is secretly interested in what links Jett and me together but he is decent enough to not ask about it if I don’t bring it up himself. 

It feels weirdly calming to sit here with this man that I don’t know. This man that is a victor of something so disturbing and cruel that I can’t imagine what it is like. He is a killer, but not by choice. He had as much choice in becoming a victor as I had in becoming a victim. In a way he must understand. 

“Do you blame yourself for what happened?” I ask him. “For how you became a victor?” 

Haymitch sighs heavily before he takes another sip. 

“Every minute of every day.” He mutters. “There isn’t a day that I don’t blame myself for what happened. There isn’t a day that I don’t think about the people that I killed. There isn’t a day that I don’t think about the kids that I lost in the years after that. The kids that were my responsibility. The kids that I failed so drastically.” 

“Right.” I mutter. 

“I blame myself for all of that, but I know that it is not my fault.” He mutters which makes me look up at him. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Just like I said. I blame myself but I know that it is not my fault.” Haymitch repeats. “Someone else put me in that situation, someone else wanted me to do what I did and there is nothing I can do about that. That is not my fault. What I chose to do with the situation was. I chose to defend myself and kill some of the other tributes. I chose to find the end of the arena and taunt the gamemakers. I chose to use the forcefield to my advantage. Those are choices I made and which I can be responsible for. Those are the choices that I blame myself for. But I am not at fault for being put in the situation. I am not at fault for what others forced me to do.” 

He takes another drink from his flask before he lets out a laugh. 

“You probably think, what does that old, drunk lunatic know. What the hell is he talking about.” 

“No, I think I kind of understand.” I mutter. “Thanks.” 

“For what?” 

“For listening to me.” I reply. “It helped, I guess.” 

“Well, that would be a first. Haymitch Abernathy, the bringer of death, helps a young boy for once.” He says, sounding sarcastic. “Congratulations to me.” 

It makes me smile a little to hear the clear sarcasm in his voice. It must be a lonely life up there in those white houses. No one to talk to. No one who understands. Just you and your memories, all alone. 

“Now that I helped you, will you please let me be alone with my kids?” He asks. 

“Your kids?” 

Haymitch opens his arms, pointing at the memorial in front of him. 

“My kids.” 

I nod in understanding before I get up and walk away towards the square. When I am almost out of sight, I look back. Haymitch is there, his elbows on his knees as he seems to be talking to the memorial. Talking to ‘his kids.’ 

Haymitch Abernathy, supposedly our pride because of his status. But really he is just a lonely man. A tired man. A man that was supposed to have this privileged life but has nothing and for a moment it hits me that it could always get worse.

Chapter Text

Another few months pass after my meeting with Haymitch and things surprisingly almost return to normal. There are still the nightmares and the occasional flashback but with mom mostly contained and my brothers on my side, it feels like I can finally look up. 

Madge is still keeping a close eye on me even though she is more and more relaxed everytime after she sees that I am fine. Delly seems to perk up at the fact that she hears considerably less fighting from the bakery. Onna is just generally confused at what happened, like she doesn’t really understand what all the fuss was about. 

Rye and I train the rest of the year to fight each other at the Summer’s Brawl, the end of the year competition to determine the school champion. It is a fair fight but in the end Rye wins, defeating me narrowly and telling me to have better luck next time. In a way it is fine. Rye will be out of school by next year, this really was his last chance at the title. I still have a few tries to go. Which Coach assures me we will need for this scholarship that he still wants me to try out for. 

Bran and Elory are preparing for their little baby while mom is enjoying her new role as grandma to make everything perfect for the new little Mellark. It is really strange to see her care more about this grandchild than she ever did about me, but there is nothing I can do about it. 

Bran is still very protective of me. Asking me often how I am doing and if there is something he can do for me. But time and time I tell him that I am fine. I know that the wounds will never truly heal, but it feels like they are getting less deep. 

One of the big reminders of my time with Silt for the outside world is my monthly rations of tesserae. It is not like it isn’t useful for us and it would be stupid to not use it since I am paying for it with slips, but it does remind me of why I took tesserae and what happened after I made that decision. 

Those extra slips don’t matter for most of the year but with the reaping getting closer and closer, it does make me feel weird. What if the choice I made changes my fate even more? What if those extra slips cause me to get reaped? 

I know there are a lot of Seam kids that are in there many more times, but I still wonder if it matters. There are five more slips in there than there were last year, which is a quite significant increase. 

It bothers me to a point that I have trouble sleeping on the night before the reaping, finally giving up on it at around 6 in the morning. Normally we would start chores by now, but mom and dad always give us time off on reaping day. Time to do whatever we want in case it is the last change we get. 

So instead of starting my preparations in the bakery, I get dressed and go outside with my sketchbook. I sit down against the apple tree next to our store, watching the square in which the first Capitol workers are setting up the stage and the camera’s. They will set it up now and it will remain there until the games are over, providing everyone with mandatory viewing right in their faces. 

“You’re up early.” I hear beside me. 

When I look in the direction of the voice I look straight into Delly’s tired face. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” I mutter, tapping the ground beside me to invite her over. 

“Me neither.” She mutters as she sits down. “I can imagine that it won’t take long for Madge to get out here, either.” 

“Do these reapings ever become less frightening?” I ask her. “I know the chances are small for us compared to the kids from the seam, but still. Merchants have been reaped before.” 

“Well, they are meant to frighten us. They are meant to make us aware of how fragile and vulnerable our lives really are.” Delly replies. “No matter how many slips you have, your name is still in there which means there is a chance.” 

“Yeah, and mine is in there six more times than last year.” I mutter, sighing heavily. “And for what.” 

“For something that felt justified at the time.” Delly replies. “Don’t judge the Peeta you were then because of what you know now.” 

It didn’t take long for me to share my truth with Madge and Delly. To tell them what had happened in those lonely nights at Silt’s place. In a way I needed someone to know. Someone that I could trust and talk to without feeling the need to leave things out because the listener might blame themselves even more. 

It took us a whole day of skipping to talk about it. Telling them every detail that I could muster in the safety of the bushes where I hid from the world before. They helped me, cared for me and promised me to keep it between them which made me feel safe and loved in a new way. 

It made me able to laugh with them again, to make jokes and talk about silly things. They turned into the safety that I never realized I missed until Silt gave it to me. They made me feel valued and real. They made me realize that you can’t choose your family, but you can choose your friends. 

“I know.” I mutter. “I just wished I hadn’t.” 

“Wished you hadn’t what?” Madge says, walking her way over to us just like expected. 

“Signed up for tesserae.” I mutter. “But don’t even bother, Delly already told me not to judge myself.” 

“Good.” She replies, sitting down on the other side of me. “You shouldn’t.” 

“Short night as well?” Delly asks her. 

“Aren’t they always the day before the reaping?” Madge replies, leaning her chin on her knees. “Mom doesn’t sleep at all. She never has since Maysilee got reaped. I think she checked about ten times if I was still in my bed.” 

“Do you think it will be one of us this year?” I ask them, still thinking about my own odds. 

“One of us?” 

“A merchant.” I reply. “There hasn’t been one since Victoria.” 

Delly looks at me with a sad look in her eyes. Her aunt and uncle still struggle with the fact that they lost their only daughter to the games. It is a topic they stay clear off deliberately whenever they get together. 

“Peeta, it is not going to be you.” Madge tells me, trying to assure me. 

“I am not just talking about me.” I reply. “It has been nine years since a merchant was reaped. I know we have less slips than most children on the seam, but that does not eliminate the fact that we can still get reaped. Our names are still in there.” 

Both Madge and Delly remain silent after that. There are so many mixed emotions involved with the reaping. There is the tension about the possibility of getting chosen to die in the games and there is the feeling that most of the time the merchants get lucky. Our tributes are almost always skinny, underfed seam kids with olive skin and dark hair. Not the blonde haired, slightly better fed children that live around the town square.

But almost is not always. Every once in a while a kid from town gets really unlucky and this year that kid could be one of us. Every year that kid could be one of us even though most of us try to deny it could happen. 

“Can we not talk about that?” Delly mutters. “I don’t even want to think about how this could be my last morning in District Twelve.” 

“Ah, Delly.” Madge jokes. “Are you getting attached to these mesmerizing coal fumes?” 

Delly lets out a soft laugh. 

“You got me. Totally hooked.” Delly replies, making me smile. “No, I’m serious. I can’t even imagine to be on that train to death in a few hours. How do you even breathe when you know what is coming?” 

“I think you just do.” I mutter. “There is nothing else you can do but accept it and keep breathing until it all stops.” 

I think they both notice that I am not only talking about getting reaped. They both notice that I am also thinking about Silt. About what happened and what I chose to do when it did. 

Both remain absolutely silent though, probably not sure how to reply to it without talking about something equally depressive as the reaping. 

I stare at the square for a moment, looking at how the Capitol people are building the stage that will be the representation of our district to the whole of the nation. On that stage they will see the two unlucky children. On that stage they will see how Effie Trinket will blow a hole in another part of our community. 

“God, can we stop with all this depressing talk? This day is bad enough.” Madge mutters. 

“Yeah.” Delly replies, but she does not say anything else. 

“So.” I mutter. “What else do we talk about?” 

“Well.” Madge says, looking at me with an evil glint in her eyes. “How is your crush doing?” 

“Oh shut up.” I mutter, laughing slightly. 

“What? You haven’t talked about her in a while. No longer in love?” 

“No, you know that is not it. You know that I am a goner for life.” 

“Yeah, you and probably the rest of the seam.” Delly mutters. “Including Gale.”

“Gale?” I ask, surprised that she mentions Katniss’ best friend. 

Madge lets out a laugh which makes Delly blush. 

“Delly here has developed a crush of her own.” Madge tells me. “Ever since she saw the young Mr Hawthorne running around the track without a shirt, she is a goner.” 

“God, that makes it sound so awful.” Delly laughs. “I just think he is handsome, but I don’t think he even knows who I am.” 

“Join the club.” I reply, a smile around my own face. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.” 

Madge chuckles softly. 

“I still don’t get it, Peeta. Why won’t you just talk to her? She doesn’t bite. She is actually pretty nice.” 

“Well, Miss Undersee, we don’t all have your people skills.” 

“Oh come on, Peeta. You are a great communicator, just not when it comes to girls you actually want to get intimate with.” Madge says. “In any other situation you are great at talking and connecting people.” 

“I am not.” I reply. “I haven’t ever connected anyone.” 

“I didn’t say you had. I just think you would be good at it.” Madge tells me. “I think you have the ability to accomplish something. I think it comes natural to you.” 

“Yeah, sure.” I reply before I sigh heavily and get up. “I better get going, still need to eat and get ready.” 

“Me too.” Delly says, getting up after me. “See you in the pen.” 

“Yeah, see you.” I mutter, walking towards the entrance to the bakery. Dad is working in the back but I ignore him, walking up the stairs to our room. 

I get the nicest white shirt I have before I search for my nicest pair of pants. I don’t wear these often, they are really reserved for weddings, funerals and reapings, nothing else. After I am dressed I get into the bathroom, fixing my hair with a little bit of water. 

The table is set when I get down into the living room. Rye is already there and to my surprise Bran is too.

“What are you doing here?” I ask him as I sit down. 

“It’s reaping day.” He replies. “Reaping day is spent with your family.” 

“Did Elory go home too?” 

“Yeah, her younger brother is the same age as Rye. After this year their family is done for a little while. No more kids in reaping age.” 

“That must be nice.” Rye mutters. “Just two more years after this one for us and we are done as well.” 

“Can’t wait.” Bran mutters as he grabs a piece of bread. 

We have fresh bread for once. It is one of the rare luxuries we allow ourselves on reaping day in case any of us don’t get to experience it again. 

“So how is Elory doing?” I ask him as I grab a piece of bread for myself. 

“Getting big.” Bran replies. “Mrs Everdeen says the baby is doing fine though. We can’t be sure but we think the baby should be here in the fall.” 

“That is good!” I reply. “What do you think it is? Boy or girl?” 

“Well, I think mom basically forced it to be a girl, so -” 

“Hey!” Mom says from the doorway. “I just told Elory that I would like it to be a girl. I did not force anyone.” 

“Sure you did mom.” Rye mutters, smiling evilly at her. “It is not like you will disown Bran if it isn’t a girl. You might want to but then who would take over this bakery?” 

“Oh shut it, Rye.” Mom replies, slapping him on the back of his head playfully before she sits down to have her own breakfast. 

It is almost weird to notice the same thing every year. Every year on reaping day mom is different. She is always friendly and kind. Almost like this is the day in the year she realizes the riches she already has. Like she realizes that the children, she often hates, could be taken away from her in a few hours. 

It is almost like there is some secret mother instinct that fights itself to the surface. 

We silently eat our breakfast with dad joining us halfway through, making our family complete and whole. After that there are a couple more hours to spare in which we are completely free to do what we want. 

Rye immediately leaves the house to meet with his friends that are all waiting for this final reaping to be done before they will never be bothered by it themselves again. 

I decide to take a walk around the district like I used to do before Silt happened. I walk over the square and for the first time in ages I make my way down a path towards the seam. I walk past Daffy’s house, looking at the porch and remembering how my conversation with her changed my life. I never thanked her for it, but I have the feeling that thanking her now is not the right time. My head is simply too busy with other things than thanking her. 

The next street I come across is the one where Katniss lives. I walk past the rundown houses, trying to keep to the shadows as I watch every door. The door to Katniss’ house is closed as I can only imagine her behind it getting ready. She is definitely in the reaping, probably with a lot more slips than me. It might even be Prim’s first year, which is scary as hell. I can’t even imagine her in the arena, kind and caring little Prim. 

At the end of the street I turn right, walking past the Reemer’s house. They don’t have a kid in the reaping this year but it is a painful day for them no matter what. 

I walk along, right alongside the fence, looking at the woods beyond every once in a while. The world is so much bigger than we know, which is quite scary. There could be so much more out there than we will ever know. It could be right outside this fence and we would never notice anything. 

I am so lost in thought that I hardly notice where I am going until I am there, the row that holds Silt’s house. If I turn back I will waste some valuable time but if I walk on I might see him. For a moment I am completely frozen until I take a deep breath and feel my feet move forward. 

Don’t be a pussy, Peeta. You might not even see him.

My eyes scan all the apartments until they fall on the last house in the row, the front door is open as I can hear the sound of someone whistling behind it. I am almost past it, speeding up to make it happen faster, when I hear his familiar voice call my name. 

“Peeta?” 

I freeze mid step, not really sure what to do. 

“Baby?” 

That word makes me almost want to barf. God, I don’t think I will ever be able to bear being called baby again. I won’t ever be able to deal with that and not think of him. 

I don’t think when I unfreeze, walking on as I ignore him completely. He says my name a couple of more times before I disappear from sight. 

I am still breathing heavily when I arrive back at the square. It is getting fuller and fuller as I can see that the first kids are starting to sign in and move into the pens. My parents are near the bakery as I go towards them for some final private moment. 

Mom sees me first, walking towards me to fix some loose strand of hair. She smiles sadly at me before she places a single kiss on my cheek without saying another word. 

Dad is a little more vocal as he hugs me and wishes me good luck before I turn around and walk towards the sign in table. 

They identify me as Peeta Mellark before they sent me towards the pen that holds the other 16 year old boys. I make my way to the middle, as close to the girl’s pen as I can get. It is something I have been doing for years. Finding my way to the middle as Delly and Madge will do the same on the other side in case we need each other for support. 

I stand straight, waiting for everything to start as I nod my head to multiple people in the process. Eventually I see a tense Delly and a slightly less tense Madge arrive. We have eye contact for a moment until we are alerted to the stage by the sound of the anthem. 

Breathe, Peeta. Just breathe. It will be fine. 

I close my eyes for a second as I let that sink in. This year has been rough and gave me a run for my money. I don’t think I ever imagined what happened when I was here last year. It would only be fair if that was enough. I suffered enough so me and my friends should be fine now. 

The odds are in my favor. I just have to pull through and this will be over for another year. I am going to make it, just like every other merchant in the last couple of years. No need to worry. 

I mean, it can not possibly get worse. Can it?

Chapter Text

The walls of my big mansion feel cold and lonely. It is so big and there are so few people in it. 

Mom acted as if she was happy to see me when I returned and a part of her was. A part of her was happy that she got the attention and the fame. A part of her was happy that her son did not become one of those statistical deaths. One of the names on that marble monument in the cemetery. 

But her total happiness with me was quickly over when Haymitch showed up and told her that she was never allowed to be alone with me ever again if it was up to him. I had not wanted to tell him but when I was in the hospital after the games they checked every part of my body with x-rays. Every single part, even the ones that weren’t affected by the games.

When the doctors called him in to ask about the little cracks in my orbital socket and the healed hairline fractures in my ribs, he didn’t know what to say. When he asked me about it when I woke up I could do nothing but tell him the truth. 

I never expected him to react so hostile but apparently he really cares. Maybe it is because we are the first kids that he has managed to get back. The first kids whose death he didn’t feel responsible for. So maybe he feels responsible for us in a different way. 

Mom grew hostile towards him at that and she probably blamed me for the fact that I had to tell him. That wasn’t his fault but I think that my mother expected me to keep it a secret. 

Even after everything. 

I so clearly remember telling myself that morning that it couldn’t get worse. But boy, it did. 

Everything happened so fast. Her sister getting reaped, her volunteering, my own reaping. Not an hour later we were on the train towards death, getting prepped and pruned to die in the biggest mass murder of the year. 

It was like one big, giant storm full of twists and turns that I could barely follow. It was almost weird to experience this determination to protect her. If only I could get her home I would be happy. I almost instantly forgot my own self preservation, even though that did feel scary as hell. Everything I did was to protect her. From telling everyone I am in love with her to joining up with the careers in order to protect her. 

And, god, how my collaboration with Haymitch on the matter worked out was something I could have never imagined. My devotion, his workings with the gamemakers. It all went a little bit too perfect. But it worked. Everything worked and against all odds we both came back. 

I never expected to go to the games, but I sure as hell never expected to come back from them. I always thought I was a goner the moment my name came out of those bowls and I would have been if it wasn’t for her. 

The games were my nightmare and my dream at the same time. Yeah, pretty hostile and deadly environment but also a lot of nights with her by my side. With her holding me and kissing me and making me feel like she cared. 

If only she hadn’t said what she said on the train ride home. If only we could have stayed in that dreamlike bliss, in that state in which a part of me wanted to believe it was real in every sense of the word. 

Now she is living closer to me than ever and we haven’t talked in weeks. 

While her house is filled with love and warmth, mine is cold and empty. I try to make something of it but it is no use. The only three places I really use are the kitchen, my bedroom and the art studio I made in one of the spare rooms. 

Just like drawing helped before, painting helps me deal with the games. It helps me deal with the nightmares and the panic attacks. It helps me deal with life. In a way it is a blessing that the nightmares from the games have banished the nightmares from Silt to the background. I hardly think about what happened and when I do they are quickly replaced by something more gruesome and bloody.

It is also for the same reasons that most of the paintings in my art room are from the games. Only two or three feature what happened with Silt, one of them I painted when I saw him in the square. He was just passing by and he did not see me, but it made me panic and bolt away. Almost running, or walking as fast as I could on this new leg, towards the art room and getting the images out of my head through a canvas. 

No one has ever been in my art room and if everyone ever is allowed inside for whatever reason, those paintings will disappear into the back of the room instantly.

I am working on a painting of Katniss in the tree before the sound of the doorbell rings through the house. 

No one ever rings but my parents and Katniss. My other visitors, Haymitch, Prim and my brothers, just walk through the door and call out my name. 

I sigh heavily before I put my brush down and clean my hands on an old rag. The painting is coming along well and I want to finish it today but it is kind of rude to leave someone waiting. I walk out of the room and down the stairs, straight to the door. When I open it I freeze instantly, my eyes growing wide as I see him in front of me. 

“Hi Peeta.” Silt says with a tiny smile on his face.

“Hi.” I mutter, scanning his whole body to watch for signs. 

“Can I come in?” 

For a moment I want to refuse him. I want to tell him to fuck off and go away. I want to tell him that he has wasted enough of my time, but a part of me doesn’t dare. A part of me is scared of how he will react. 

“Sure, come in.” I reply, stepping aside to let him pass. 

Here I am. A victor. A boy who went through something so hostile and managed to live to tell the tale. 

Here I am, scared shitless because I am facing the demon of my past. The demon that can’t do anything to me anymore. But still my demon. 

Silt walks into the living room, whistling in admiration. 

“Nice place you got here.” 

“Thank you.” I mutter, walking in behind him with trembling legs. 

What is he doing here? What does he want after all these months?

“I was surprised you were reaped.” Silt says, his fingers dancing over the marble of the fireplace. “First Ash, then Jett, then you. It is almost like anyone that gets too close to me gets reaped. It is almost like I am cursed or something.” 

I remain silent as I stare at him. Waiting for the moment he is going to tell me what he is doing here. 

“I must admit that I did not think you would come back.” He tells me. “The odds were really against you, but here you are.” 

I stare at him in wonder before I take a deep breath and gather all the courage I can manage. 

“What do you want, Silt?” I ask him. “Why are you here?”

Silt chuckles softly. 

“To test the waters, I guess.” He mutters, stepping forward as I step back. “To see if something is still there.” 

“What?” 

“You think I am blind, Peeta?” He asks, taking another step to force me into the corner of the room. Trapping me between him and the wall. “You think I didn’t see how cold she is towards you?” 

“What do you mean?” I stutter. 

“She might have played along in the Capitol but I have been watching her whenever she passes my house on Sundays with her cousin by her side.” Silt mutters as his fingers reach out to stroke an unruly curl behind my right ear. “It was all an act on her part and you know it.” 

“What does that have to do with anything?” I reply, not denying his assumption. 

“It made me wonder.” He mutters. “You were so full of her when we were together and it made me think if I might have changed your perspective. If I might have actually made you see reason and choose the better sex. It made me wonder if we might have another shot.” 

“Another shot?” I hiss. “At what, Silt?”

“Well, at us.” He mutters, staring into my eyes. 

“Us? There is no us. There never was an us and there never will be an us.” 

“Oh baby.” Silt replies. 

“Don’t!” I shout. “You fucking raped me, Silt! You used and abused me! If you even think for one second that I enjoyed it you are fooling yourself!” 

I push against him, trying to fight my way past him but even my better diet and experience with fighting are no match for his strength and speed. For a moment I think that he would have made an excellent tribute. Fast, strong and evil. 

It is all too easy for him to grab my wrists and push them together above my head in one hand, his now free other hand moves towards my throat pressing down lightly. I notice my mind wanting to flash back to a combination of being with Silt in his bed and Cato holding me on top of the Cornucopia, but I fight it. I need to stay in the present, I can’t let myself be caught any more off guard. 

“You are the one fooling yourself.” Silt hisses, his face awfully close to mine. “You enjoyed every little bit of it. Every caress, every kiss. Every time I fucked that tight hole of yours. You are just denying it to yourself. You are just ignoring the fact that you are human. You feel like you are too good for me. Like you are better than me because you have this fancy house and these fancy friends. But you are no better than me. I can still throw you on the ground right here and fuck you bloody.” 

At that moment he lets me go which makes me stumble to the ground and fall on my face. He is on top of me in seconds as I try to keep the panic at bay. In the corner of my eye I see that the door is open, which surprises me because I definitely closed it when Silt came in. I also see a flash of blonde hair running away, something that I try to ignore because I need to fight him off. 

I struggle and kick but it feels like I am fighting Cato all over. I am no match for the man on top of me. He is stronger and heavier and he has the upper hand. One of his knees lands on my neck to pin me down before I feel one of his hands reach for the fancy belt that holds up my pants. He doesn’t even bother with the belt, dragging my pants and underwear down in one go. 

I can feel the tears in my eyes but I try to push them away. I can’t let him win again. I am a victor, I am a survivor. 

“Look at you, Silt.” I hiss. “So powerful, so strong. So desperate.” 

“I am not desperate!” 

“Aren’t you?” I reply, staring at the open door in front of me. “You are here trying to force a victor to have sex with you. That sounds desperate to me.” 

“I can get whichever boy I like.” He hisses, his fingers probing in between my cheeks. 

“And yet you are here.” I reply as I slowly watch the front door open a little more. Only seconds later I make eye contact with my mentor. A look of pure fury on his face when he looks at the sight in front of him. I never told him what happened with Silt but he is protective as hell over both Katniss and I. “Yet you are here trying to rape me again.” 

Haymitch’s eyes grow big at my words before I see his eyes search for something he can use as a weapon. He quickly grabs the crutch that is next to the front door in case my prosthetic makes me unstable on my feet. 

“Just shut up.” Silt hisses as his finger penetrates me which makes me hiss in pain. “Just fucking take what you want.” 

“I suggest you fucking take what you want.” Haymitch hisses before he raises up the crutch and brings it down on Silt with as much strength as he can muster. Silt is out immediately, falling to the side which gives me the ability to move. 

I quickly drag up my pants before I rest my head against the floor and take a deep breath. 

“Peeta -” Haymitch starts but I raise my hand to make him stop. 

“Just don’t, Haymitch. I don’t want to talk about it.” I mutter. “Just call fucking Cray and let him deal with it.” 

“Prim is already getting him.” Haymitch replies. “I was glad she thought of getting me first or I might have been too late.” 

“Those Everdeen girls never manage to disappoint.” I huff. “Can’t seem to be able to stay safe without them.” 

I take another deep breath before I crawl to my feet. Facing Haymitch, the crutch still in his hand and a worried glance on his face. 

“You sure you’re okay?” He mutters. 

“Yeah.” I reply. “What happened is in the past. No need to talk about it.” 

“You call this in the past?” 

I remain silent after that, just staring at my mentor and the one he knocked unconscious on my floor until we are both alerted by a knock on the door. Prim comes in followed by two familiar peacekeepers, Darius and Purnia.

“I’m so sorry, Peeta.” Darius mutters as he takes in the scene. Purnia moves into action immediately, taking out her cuffs and putting them on Silt. “Is there anything we can do for you?” 

“Yeah.” I reply. “Make fucking sure he won’t get out of jail again this time.” 

“We are going to do our best, again.” Purnia replies. “Hopefully Cray will believe that he is still dangerous this time. Especially since he assaulted a victor.” 

“Hopefully that counts for something.” I mutter. “Would be nice if it actually could be used for something good.” 

They both nod their heads at me before they pick Silt up and drag him out of my house, leaving me with Haymitch and Prim. 

“What do you need, Peeta?” Prim asks, reading the room better than Haymitch ever could. 

“Nothing, really.” I mutter. “A hot shower and some time with my paints and I’ll manage.” 

“You sure?” She asks, concern written all over her face. 

“Yeah.” I reply. “I’m sure.” 

She smiles kindly at me in a way that is so similar and so different than Katniss. 

“Well, I am going to check in with you tomorrow. Just so you know.”

“Yeah, okay.” I reply. “That would be fine, I guess.”

“Good.” She mutters before she walks towards Haymitch and takes his arm to drag him out of there. I watch as they walk away, both of them hesitant if they made the right choice. 

“Prim.” I mutter just before they leave which makes her turn around. “Please don’t tell her. I don’t want her to know.” 

“We won’t, Peeta. We won’t.” She tells me with a reassuring smile before she leads Haymitch away. 

When they are gone my knees buckle. How the hell did I get so close again? How the hell did that happen after everything I went through? 

My heart aches for everything to stop. The nightmares. The flashbacks. The pain. 

More than ever I want to turn back time. I want to turn back time and tell myself to not trust Silt. I want to turn back time and walk away while I still could. Maybe if I hadn’t believed him I would never have ended up in the games. I wouldn’t have taken tesserae. I wouldn’t have had my name added so many more times. 

It could have made the difference. It could have made none of this happen. 

For the first time in months I allow myself to cry, letting everything out until all the sorrow and heartbreak is drained from me. It makes me feel better, makes me feel stronger. 

When I am done crying I walk up the stairs into the art room. I walk all the way to the back, grabbing the graphic painting I made after I saw Silt in the square the first time. It is a very graphic depiction of Silt’s dick between my legs that almost reminds me of one of the drawings that Silt made of Ash. 

I grab the painting before I walk down the stairs and into the kitchen, grabbing some matches and one of the bottles of liquor I have laying around in case Haymitch runs out before I walk into the backyard. 

I put the painting in the middle of the grass before I take the liquor and empty the whole bottle over the painting. The paint starts to smudge in places, making the painting even more disturbing. 

I take out one of the matches and strike it against the box before I drop it on the painting. The alcohol catches fire immediately, covering the whole painting in flames. I watch as the edges of the canvas curl, taking all of the filth and shame with them. It feels like the weight of what happened falls off my shoulders when I watch the flames. Like all the guilt, all the doubt, is washed away with the smoke. 

I am a victor, I am a survivor. 

And Silt can fucking walk to hell.

Chapter Text

So, for those of you that didn't notice. I started uploading a sequel to this story. I would really appreciate it if you checked it out because I ahven't had much reviews on the story and it is making me a little uncertain. 

Please check it out and if you are interested, subscribe to the series because there will be two more sequels after the first one.