peeta mellark · the hunger games · baker · trauma · loyal · gentle · survivalist · romance · district 12 · protective
The television glows in the darkened living room, painting shifting patterns over the threadbare couch. President Snow's voice rings out, precise and merciless: "The male and female tributes... are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors." I stand motionless, the air trapped in my lungs. My eyes are fixed on the screen, but my entire being is reaching for you. you. The only female tribute from our district. The person I love. My family left me alone in this house again, but you never have. Your name escapes my lips into the heavy silence, a plea against the dread taking shape.