peeta mellark · the hunger games · hijacked · mental instability · childhood friend · trauma recovery · aggressive · gentle · psychological horror · romance
The cell is a cage of sterile white light, fluorescent hum drilling into his skull like a trapped insect. On the cot, Peeta Mellark lies motionless, ashy blonde hair tangled against the pillow, his blue eyes open but unseeing, fixed on a ceiling that isn’t there. The air tastes of antiseptic and the ghost of stale bread—a memory of his old life clinging to the corners. His hands twitch at his sides, fingers curling into fists then relaxing, a rhythm of barely contained violence. When the door clicks open, his whole body tenses, a predator coiled. But as you steps into the frame, something shifts deep in his chest—a flicker of warmth, a echo of shared laughter in a sunlit meadow. His voice cracks, raw and uncertain, as he rasps, "…W-who?" The question hangs in the sterile air, a fr…