Katniss

I sit in my trailer, a container of ice cream and spoon in hand, watching Grease on my small TV. My hair is a rats nest pulled into a bun at the back of my head. In all honesty, since that night Peeta turned me down, I've been a train wreck. I look down and turn off the TV and put away my ice cream. I glance in the mirror and sigh.

"There are worse things I could do
Than go with a boy or two
Even though the neighbourhood
Thinks I'm trashy and no good
I suppose it could be true
But there are worse things I could do" I take my hair of its ugly knot and sit down to try to work on getting myself into some sort of order.

"I could flirt with all the guys
Smile at them and bat my eyes
Press against them when we dance
Make them think they stand a chance
Then refuse to see it through
That's a thing I'd never do

"I could stay home every night
Wait around for mister right
Take cold showers everyday
And throw my life away
On a dream that won't come true

"I could hurt someone like me
Out of spite or jealousy
I don't steal and I don't lie
But I can feel and I can cry
A fact I'll bet you never knew
But to cry in front of you
That's the worst thing I could do"

"You know, that isn't the nicest song to sing to yourself when you already look about ready to cry," I hear Peeta's voice say behind me. I turn around to see him standing in the doorway of my bedroom.

"How did you get in here?" I ask as I start to get the most stubborn of my tangles out of my hair.

"Haymitch gave me a key," he says and I turn around so I'm facing away from him again. He walks in so he's standing behind me. "Look, I think we should talk about what happened the other night."

"What is there to talk about?" I ask. "I got wasted, threw myself at you, and you turned me down. There's nothing else."

"Katniss," he says quietly. "I really think we should talk." I sigh and get up.

"What do you want me to say?" I ask. "I'm a whore. I know that. And I'm really embarrassed that you had to see me like that. Because I knew how you felt about me and I never wanted you to see me acting like that."

"It's over now," he says. "I don't blame you. It's not like I should expect you to feel the same about me."

"Don't do that," I say getting up. "Don't try to turn this on yourself. I'm the one who practically raped you. I'm the reason we can't meet each other's eyes anymore. And yet here you are blaming yourself. For the love of God, Peeta! Stop acting like I'm some kind of perfect little angel and blame me for something. Get angry at me!"

"Fine! I'm mad at you!" He says. "I hate that you only looked at me the way you did because you were too drunk to care where you ended up as long as it was with somebody willing to sleep with you. And if you knew," he looks down, like he can't stand to look at me anymore. "It's like you made everything I felt about you into a joke, okay?"

I take a step closer to him and swallow nervously.

"I know," I say. "I know how it feels to have everything you feel turned into nothing but shattered pieces. In fact, the guy who did that to me is probably why I can't hold onto anyone. I want to say sorry, but truthfully," I start to feel tears well up, but I swallow sob in my throat trying to let them fall. "There's nothing that's ever going to make up for doing this to you."

"You need to stop doing this to yourself Katniss," he says.

"You know I'm trying," I whisper. "I'm a lot better than I was. But you could do a lot better than a drunk who's already let herself become trash. The only reason we have this band because I ticked off my best friends off enough that they gave up on me."

"You've had enough people give up on you," he says softly enough that it reminds me of the kind of sweet voice a good man uses with his lover as they lie together deep in the night. That tone that carries a promise no one has ever cared enough to make me. "I can't do that to you. Even though you hurt me, I care too much to do that to you."

I look up at him and wrap my arms around his shoulders. He's slightly hesitant to return my sudden embrace but hugs me back. He's the first to let me go and I feel the security of his arms leave me as he steps back. I cross my arms over my chest and hold onto my arms in a week attempt to keep that feeling.

"I guess, I'll uh see you tomorrow," I say. He nods.

"Yeah," he says. "I left the music on the counter for you." I nod. "See you."

"See you," I whisper and her walks out of my trailer. I walk back out of my bedroom and look on the counter. Sure enough, a bundle of papers is laying on in. I pick it up and find a new song that I don't remember writing. Which is odd since songs I've never seen before rarely make it through the cut. That is until I see the name on the last page.

"He wrote me a song," I say as I sit down on the couch. It's a beautiful song, soft and sweet and wonderful. Put it down beside me when I finish reading it. "I made his feelings into a joke and he wrote a song for me to sing."

I feel myself start to cry and I curl up in a ball on my couch. I broke his heart and he's still more than nice to me. And I hurt the one person who still cared about me. And that night I realize just how much I care about him.