My name is Peeta Mellark

*For Creative Writing In Class* My name is Peeta Mellark. . . My name is Peter Mellark. . . I come from district 12. I survived The Hunger Games, and the Quarter Quell. I have been captured by the capital. My one thought? . . . Save Katniss. **Thanks to Jade. P for the cover! **


5. Bloody Clothes

A soft rapping sound echoed quietly off the walls, as my new guard entered the room. I swear, he was the nicest guard in the capitol. I quickly took off my blanket, and shaking, I stood up. Some of the small cracks in the walls let in sunlight, and It felt warm against my freezing fingers. I looked at a pile of clothes on the floor. They were white, just like everyone's office uniform. Just like Snow's silk-covered chair.

I looked at the guard, and for a moment he just stood there. I looked at the clothes and back at him again, and he mouthed "oh," and silently tiptoed out the door.

I turned around and picked up the clothes. I sighed, and set them on the bed. After staring down at the clothes for a while, I sholved them over and sat down at the edge it. I put my head between my legs. The pain, hurt so bad. But I didn't groan, or cry. I thought to myself, Toughen up. For Katniss. Don't be a baby. You're doing this to save her. It's the only way. They'll kill her if you don't. The thought sent a shiver down my back. 

The thought of Katniss hurt me. She was in District 13. Safe. No. No, not safe. Protected, but never safe. I knew Snow's ways well enough to know his threats weren't completely a lie. Part of me knew that he would try to kill her and the other Victors if I stepped out of line or didn't cooperate. I had to do whatever it took to keep her at least protected. As long as she was alive.

Right then and there I made a simple vow; if Katniss died, I died too. If they killed her, they would have to kill me too. Maybe then, we could be together again.

With a sigh, I stood up, and dressed myself with those wretched, disgusting white clothes. I picked them up, and as the shirt passed by my nose, I could swear I could smell the faint tint of blood.

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