Chapter Text
I was never disillusioned about the way things worked in District 12. How could I be? I was born to a Merchant mother and Seam father. It may seem cushy, because I grew up in town where my parents ran the apothecary. I wasn’t forced to grow up in the Seam, where children starved their way through adolescence only to be forced into the mines if they lived to see adulthood.
I was lucky. My grandparents died young, leaving the apothecary to their only child. My mother. She fell in love with my father, and because she was really the only doctor in District 12, people put up with their relationship. Put up with me, the daughter with the dark Seam hair, the olive skin, the gray eyes.
There is no putting up with Prim, though. My little sister has managed to steal the heart of anyone she’s ever met, and I believe this quality would exist and thrive in her even if she didn’t have the physical appearance of a Merchant. No, the blonde hair and blue eyes just give her an easier time blending in. But everyone is genuinely fond of Prim.
Still, things were tough. People in town tolerated us, but weren’t overly friendly. It only got worse after my father died.
My father was killed beyond the fence line of District 12. I’d been the one to find him. He was out gathering the usual herbs he provided for the apothecary. It tore my mother apart. One misstep, one confrontation with a bear, one moment of hesitation was all it took for my father to be taken from us.
I was eleven. Prim was seven. My mother was a grown adult. But I was the one who had to take over because she disappeared. She retreated into her head, too far gone to reach. She left me alone to save our shop, save the people who came to us for medical help, save our family. Prim and I had to grow up too fast, though in Panem, most children lose their innocence far before they become adults, even teenagers. I hadn’t wanted that for Prim, though. I tried so hard.
I was granted a leave of absence from school for approximately one year, during which I had to keep up with the teachings on my own time. This was managed by forging my mother’s handwriting, sending an official request to the Justice Building. They took pity because they believed the story we’d had to make up. Suicide. No one could know that it’d been death by the world beyond the fence.
I didn’t have a choice. I needed to run the shop because my mother could do nothing but sit in her rocking chair, staring into space in our apartment above the store.
“She’s with a customer right now. How can I help you?” I would say in my most authoritative voice. People came to believe and trust me. But it wasn’t enough.
I had to keep up with schoolwork, run the books, feed and care for Prim, make sure my mother was still conscious, take care of the customers. I was running myself ragged, growing slimmer every day, giving Prim what little food we’d been able to afford as our supplies dwindled. The books showed that we could barely afford to keep the shop by that winter.
I hadn’t been beyond the fence since I’d found my father. I was too scared. But there came a point when I was desperate, so far gone that I could barely get myself to the point in the fence that allowed a person to shimmy underneath. When I got there, soaked to the bone from the freezing rain, it was like every bit of air in my lungs had disappeared. I could see him, I swear I could. His mangled body, the abandoned roots and herbs soaked in his blood.
I keeled over and tried to breathe. I knew, though, as I knelt down, I couldn’t get back up. I was weak. Too weak.
I prayed this would be a quick death. It seemed that I’d lived every day waiting for the inevitable, this moment in which I could no longer put up a fight. I came to terms with dying, but as the rainwater stroked my cheeks, I heard a noise just beyond where I had collapsed.
He slipped under the fence and almost missed me, a small lump on the ground. His blonde curls were stuck to his forehead, his cheeks ruddy and a little dirty from his traipse in the woods, but I recognized those eyes. Blue, sweet, ocean deep. Peeta Mellark.
He gasped when he noticed me. He had a bag slung over one shoulder, full of whatever he’d been out there to get. I saw his eyes dart behind us, over to the houses in the Seam, presumably where he lived. He knelt down for a moment.
“Wait here,” he said, and I would’ve laughed if I’d had any energy. I was going nowhere.
There was a commotion behind me, a woman shrieking. I couldn’t understand what was happening and I couldn’t turn myself to see. I heard sloshing footsteps and soon saw Peeta’s bright eyes looking over me once more.
“Here,” he said, shoving something into my hands. I noticed a red weal on his cheekbone, and I wondered what he’d done to get it. Before I could say anything, he’d turned away.
It was a bag. I looked inside and thought I might die from shock right there. It was filled with herbs and roots we often used in the apothecary, the kind my father would find for us. There were katniss roots, I could see. Lots of them. Those were only found by the lake, though. Had Peeta ventured that far? I didn’t realize anyone else knew about the lake. My father’s lake.
Above all, Peeta had given me bread. Not just any old bread, but bread from the bakery. I couldn’t imagine how Peeta, the darling of the Seam, had gotten such a thing. It wasn’t fresh by any means, but bread was bread.
Renewed with strength, I made my way back to the apothecary. For the first time in a long time, my mother seemed to stir back to life. She cooked the katniss roots. We ate them with the bread. Prim was delighted. I was weary.
The next day at school, I wanted to thank Peeta, but I could never seem to find a time where he was alone. Peeta was popular, especially amongst the Seam kids, and constantly had companionship. I watched him at lunch. His eye was swollen and bruised. I caught his eye for a second before his gaze flitted away.
While I waited for Prim after school, I saw Peeta heading home. We made eye contact once more, and he broke it once more. I turned away and saw a dandelion. And something shifted inside me. I wasn’t afraid anymore. I felt, for the first time in a long time, hope.