Peeta's POV.

I sit infront of the Tv eating cereals, deep in thought.

"You know, I think you're needing glasses." Someone behind me says, making me jump. I whip my head around.

"What?" I ask flatly

Haymitch sighs "Have you even noticed that the Tv is off?" he asks.

I stop messing with the room and look at the Tv. Yes, it is off. I put down the remote and take the last spoon of cereals from the bowl.

"Ok." I mumble, standing up and heading to the kitchen, Haymitch following behind me. I think Haymitch feels guilty about leaving the other day when I received that letter from mh brother. I think he went to a bar and got drunk, but I'm not sure. He could've get drunk somewhere else so I'm not sure. What I know is that he only came back the next morning, dead dropp drunk.

I truthfully didn't mind. It gave me time to think, without having to pretend I'm fine with everything, which I'm not. Som now Haymitch is constantly following me everywhere, making sure I'm fine. And it is starting to annoy me. Very much.

"Haymitch, you don't need to follow me around everywhere." I say, settingthe now empty bowl in the sink.

"I just want to make sure you're okay." Haymitch says. I roll my eyes. That sentrence is starting to get old.

"For the millionth time, Haymitch, I'm completely fine." I snap.

Haymitch raises his hands in the feet "Okay, okay. Got it." he says scurrying out of the room.

I sight. Maybe I'm not completely fine, but I really don't want anyone to know that. It almost seems stupid to me that I still haven't gotten over everything that happened. It's been almost two months, for God's sake. I can't understand why I can't just ignore everything, pretend it never happened. As if it was just a bad dream. But I can't. I've tried, I've tried so hard to forget. But it seems like an impossible task. Every time I feel that Maybe there's hope for everything to finally be good, something has to appear, as a reminder that nothing is good. Like that stupid letter, for example. I wish I hadn't received it, that it had gotten lost in the mail. That I never had opened. But I did, and I guess there's nothing I can do about that now.

I go back to the living room. I have no idea what to do with myself now. I really need some sort of distraction, but nothing comes up to me. Before I came to live with Haymitch I used to play the piano, but the truth is that it wasn't something I really emjoyed. It certainly was not an hobby or anything. My dad taught me to play when I was small, before I could even read. After my dad left my mother grew bitter of the music, but at the same time wanted me to play it. She started giving me classes, since she, herself, knew how to play the piano, but she was very strict. Strict to the point I would be scared of doing something wrong. Everything had to be perfect, or else I would get yet another bruise. I even a broken finger, from time to time.

The last time I even looked at a piano was the night before the incident that brought me to where I am now.

My trail of thoughts is stopped by a knock on the door. I head to the door and open it. Who I see at the door makes me freeze.

Blond hair. Dark brown eyes. His hands stuffed in his pockets, staring at the ground. Ted is at my door.

"Peeta" he exhales. I can't even tell what he is thinking, as he speaks neutrally.

Before I even understand what's going on, I slam the door in his face and turn around. I look through the window. He is still there. Hands in his pockets.

"When is dad going to come home, Ted"

We walk together to school. Ted lets go of my hand that he was grasping tighly and stuffs it in his pocket.

I wait patiently for his answer but he says nothing. "When is he coming home?" I insist.

I haven't seen dad for a week, and I'm worried about him. I hope he's back by tomorrow, he promised me we were going to have ice-cream.

Ted sighs, "Peeta, I don't know how to put this." he says carefully, as if trying to tell me something really hard, that I cannot understand, like his maths homework. They seem so confusing, but Ted says that's just because I'm 7 and I'm too young to understand.

"Why are you so upset? Are you sad because dad didn't invite you to have ice-cream with us tomorrow? I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you came too." I say, but I'm interrupted by Ted.

"There's the thing, Peeta." Ted says, stopping to walk. He kneels down infront of me, and I think he is going to cry. But soon the sadness in his expression turns to anger, and then to something that I can only describe as sorrow. "I don't think we will be able to see dad again." he stumbles with his words, as if trying to choose which one to use.

"What do you mean? Why do you say that?" I ask, my eyes starting to get wattery. Why is he saying that dad isn't going to come back? Is he playing a prank on me?

"Look, dad left." Ted says, resting his hands on my shoulders.

"Left where? For a trip?" I ask.

Ted sighs "I guess you could say that." he exales.

"And whe is he going to come back?" I insist. I don't care where he went, I just want to know when is he going to come back.

"Peeta, you need to understand this. Dad isn't going to come back. Ever" he answers, somewhat angrily.

I let this sink in. I'm not going to see dad again? But why? The thought of not seeing dad ever again makes me feel sad, and now I miss him even more."But he said we were going to have ice-cream." I mumble, letting a tear roll down my cheek.

"I know Peeta. But don't be sad, it's okay." he says. I start choking with sobs, as I turn my head down, staring at my feet. "Hey, common Peeta, look at me." Ted says. He lifts my shin "Don't cry Peeta. Dad doesn't matter." he wipes my tears.

"But he does, he's daddy. He matters allot." I fumble.

"I know. But I'm still here. You have to be strong. You're strong, right Peet? "

I nod vigurously "I'm very strong." I say.

"We'll be fine, yes?" he encourages me. I nod again. "hey,why don't we do something diferente today? We'll cal school saying that you're sick, and then we'll go have that ice-cream? Sounds good?" Ted suggests. I smile and mumble a yes. Although dad isn't here and I really wished he was, I don't cry,as I want to. I have to be strong.

Ted takes his hand off his pocket and holds it to me, that I tighly grasp as we walk together.

"Peeta, please, open the door! I just want to talk."

i look around. Ted is banging on the door and Haymitch is in front of me, looking worriedly at me.

"Who's at the door, Peeta?" he asks sternly, but I don?t answer. Instaed I walk through him emotionlessly, my mind to cooked up with thougths and memories , to the point I can't think clearly. I feel dizzy and sick, anfd I just want to find na hole and leave in it forever.

Anger irradiates thrugh me, and so does sorrow and melancholy. Who could say a simple person could have such impact on me. I c«dn't know how to feel, or what to do, and truthfully I just want to brake down crying right here, right now. But no, I keep walking. I climb up the stairs with Haymitch calling me behind. I just ignore him and storm up to my room, locking the door.

The world around me feels blurry and feel the anxiety bubbling through me.

I slide down the Wall and sit onthe ground, curling up in a ball, as I can feel another pannick attack reach me.

I single tear slides down my cheek, but I immediatly wipe it away, not allowing myself to cry. I'm not going tocry, I don't want to, although I feel helpless.

Why did this have to happen now? Why does something bad always have to happen. Why is i that someone keeps coming back to hurt me? Why me?

No one knows, or will ever know, how hard it was and still is.

AN.
Hey guys!
I just wanted to say I'm so sorry for not updating in what feels like ages, I'be just been so busy lately with school and everything.
I'm really sorry, I hope I'll be able to update soon again, but I'm really no sure.
Also, I've been suffering a terrible writer's block. Those are just awful.
Anyway, I'll try to update soon. And again, I'n sorry for the such late update.
See you guys!

~Claire