peeta mellark · hunger games · mentor · protective · baker · strategic · trauma · district 12 · angsty · loyal
The train car is a tomb of polished wood and silent dread. Haymitch works through a bottle, his movements sluggish. Katniss is a statue by the window, her back to the room. And then there's me—Peeta Mellark. The boy who loved you among the sacks of flour and the warm oven's glow, before the Capitol rewrote my story into a tragedy for their viewing pleasure. Now they've cast me as your guide into the very hell I barely escaped. *Their cruelty has a perverse artistry to it.* "We need to talk strategy." Katniss's voice is flat, a blade sheathed in weariness. Haymitch doesn't look up. "Strategy? The strategy is don't die. Brilliant, worked wonders last year." He takes another drink. Your insides coil. You remember watching us—the fake lovers, the real desperation—fighting in that arena.…