My eyes flutter open, only to find Blakely sitting on the floor watching me, his head cocked. I stretch my arms, and realize Peeta's firm, yet soft chest is no longer underneath me. I sit up, ignoring Blakely as he grumbles and shoves his toy closer to me, trying to provoke me to throw it. Standing, I begin to search the kitchen, which is vacant, and then walk down the short hallway, its four doors leading to a bathroom, a closet, Peeta's room and a guest room. All of which don't consist of a blond boy.

"Peeta?" I call. No answer. I walk back to where Blakely still lies, this time on his back, throwing his head back and forth, wriggling like a worm. "Where is he, Blakely? Huh?"

I wander outside, Blakely following right on my heels. He gallops off into the fog-filled yard, yapping and barking at a stray cat. If I was him, where would I go this early? The only thing is I'm Katniss, not Peeta. Who knows what goes through his mind.

The bakery? It's closed on Sundays. Maybe the market, though at this hour I don't know what for, there would be no vendors. It roughly 6 A.M., and even though I have no desire to, my body screams at me to return to bed.

I walk the rest of the way down the small path to the road, and once again, Blakely follows, sticking close but still wandering a good ways off. I get a peculiar glance from a young girl, probably 15, as I walk away from someone else's home, with their dog in tow. But something strikes my mind; maybe she's thinking something else. About Peeta and I. She might think we just met up again and slept together, and I turn away from her and pick up the pace.

I walk down to the busiest part of our little town, by the marina and all the shops. People are just starting to head to work and wake, readying themselves for another day. Someone bumps square into me, and I whip around to snap at them, but shut my mouth when I see the man.

He's young, probably twenty-five, but most likely around six six, six seven. Tattoos snake up his arms and disappear under his sleeves, peeking out again at the collar of his shirt. He smells horribly of liquor and cigarettes, and wears a five o'clock shadow on his jaw.

"Watch where you're going little girl." He spits in my face, though he ran into me, and I try not to completely shrink away. Blakely stands a good distance away, eyeing the man. I don't trust him, obviously, but in a way I feel I should run right now, and never look back. "Hey, I know you. You're that fire girl, the rebel. While since I heard your name, sweet cheeks." I curl my lips in disgust, but apparently, to him, that's funny.

"Beat it, I'm just looking for a friend." I say, seeing how far this man allows himself to be pushed. Hopefully he has some self-control, because I sure don't.

"Oh yeah? And who's that?"

"Why do you care?" I snap, folding my arms over my chest. The man gets closer, only inches away, and I step backwards, trying to show I want no contact with him.

"Man you're feisty. I like 'em that way." He growls, grabbing my wrists, and pinning me to the brick wall of the fish store. "You wanna have some fun, what is it, Katniss?"

"Get off me you scumbag! Get-" I'm interrupted by Blakely's fierce barking, spit flying from his mouth, jaws snapping. The man just looks at him, pondering what to do, then turns back to me.

"This your dog?" A smirk crosses his lips, and makes him look all the more sinister.

"No, but he knows pervert when he sees one." I try to remain calm, but my breaths come out heavy and shaky. My hands which are still pinned to the wall are balled up into fists, and I want ever so badly to punch this guy's lights out.

"What are you gonna do, little girl?" He whispers, bringing his face closer than ever, his lips brushing my cheekbone. I clench my eyes shut, and take in a breath, bracing myself for the loudest scream of my life. I notice Blakely has stopped barking, and when I try to peek over the man's shoulders, he's not there. Coward.

The man's hand travels down my side to my hip, and I feel nauseated, like I can scream but can't bring myself to do it. And I called Blakely the coward. I've lived to see many horrible things, but none as horrible as watching this man violate me, and doing nothing about it.

"Get off!" I manage through clenched teeth, and my eyes begin to burn like they always do before the first tear falls. The man's hand continues to wander, but I hear Blakely barking in the distance, too far to tell if it's coming or leaving.

But the barking continues, getting stronger and louder until I hear the faint scratching of his paws on concrete, and heavy footsteps behind. Blakely's done it, he's saved me. I crane my neck and see that familiar flash of black and white, followed by two silhouettes blurred by the fog. I cry out to whomever Blakely has found.

"There!" I low, somewhat familiar voice barks, dashing this way, merely twenty feet away. The man looks up from my eyes just in time to see the figures before one barrels into him. A man with mocha skin wrestles my attacker, landing a solid punch on his jaw. It's the worker from Peeta's bakery, the middle aged man who's always looking after the young goons.

Enveloping arms wrap around me, pulling me into a warm body that smelled of flour and pine. Peeta. I throw my arms around him as my legs give out, though I do not sob. I've been through enough to know tears get you nowhere. In fact, Peeta seems just about ready to have a heart attack, and I find myself telling him it's okay.

After letting the pervert know that if he ever was seen around here again he's a dead man, the worker from the bakery lets him go. I don't mind, because he looked utterly terrified, but then again so did I.

"Are you okay Ms. Everdeen?" He asked me, putting a big gentle hand on my shoulder. I nod numbly. "Good. Now you go home and you get some rest." He tells me, with one last sympathetic glance before he walks off.

Peeta takes me back to his house, as I'm unable to part with him. My hands shake badly even as he holds one firmly in his. When I sit down on his bed, I bring Blakely into my arms, thanking him out loud. Peeta sits beside me, rubbing his hand in circles around my back. Though I'd rather not be touched right now, different rules apply with him.

"I'm so sorry Katniss, I should have woken you to tell you where I was going. Then you-"

"No. None of this is your fault, nor is it anyone's. I just want to forget it happened." Though that's not likely. I nudge Blakely, and he hops off of my lap onto the ground, and I turn to Peeta.

"I'm just…" He starts, but I silence him by planting a kiss on his lips. I intended on pulling away, but the warmth and safety of his entire being was too much to bear. I scoot closer to him and he leans back, eventually lying down, and I crawl on top of him, keeping our lips connected. He gently places his hands on my hips, and tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

Most normal teens would be mortified right now, rejecting anyone's help or attention, but I need Peeta, and I know it. If it weren't for him, I'm not going to lie, I would be a mess right now. His gentle yet strong demeanor keeps me sane. Even while I was rejecting the world, whenever I thought of him, I got this funny feeling that I can't explain. I used to tell myself that he was too close to the world I wanted to leave behind, but the truth is he's nothing like it, he's just like me, though in a not-so-drastic way. He's trying to forget, and he does that through me. That head over heels in love boy the world saw during the games was no joke.

"Katniss," Peeta mumbles through the kiss. "After what just happened, I don't feel comfortable with this." He says, referring to my very frisky touch. His voice wasn't commanding or tough, it was a barrier keeping a certain action from happening, but it was weak and frail. Easy to knock down.

"Isn't that my line?" I smile at him, giving him the extra reassurance he couldn't find in himself. He smiles back, and connects our lips once again. He puts a hand on the small of my back, rolling us over so he's on top. He wrests another very warm hand on my hip, under my shirt. The touch tells me he's ready for this, that I'm free to lead on.

And I do just that.

I rip his shirt off, disconnecting our lips for a moment. He kisses my jawline, soft as a butterfly and I mumble something even I couldn't understand. I feel his lips curve into a smile at my soft moans of delight, and it's obvious he's toying with me. I arch my back as he slowly removes my shirt, helping him get it completely off. I feel every dip and crevice of his muscles as he lies on me, supporting most of his weight on his arms and knees.

I run my hands down his back until I feel the elastic of his boxers, being held in place by his pants. I waste no time finding the buckle of his belt, undoing it, and ripping it out of its loops. I move just right so he can reach the clasp of my bra, but he grumbles as he can't unclasp it. I laugh a bit, making him blush in the dim light of dawn, and do it for him. I throw it to the ground, uncaring of where it lands, though I do feel a bit bad that it was right on top of Blakely. Why he's still hanging around, I don't know.

Peeta undoes the button of my jeans, sliding them down and off of my legs, tossing it in the same direction my bra went. Sorry Blakely. I do the same to him, but am careful to miss the poor dog, who by now, has backed out of the danger zone.

We both quickly remove the rest of our remaining undergarments, and he positions himself over top of me. "Katniss." He whispers warily in my ear.

"Please." I say, crying out as he enters me. At first the movements are painful and rough, but we reach a sort of rhythmic state with a little time. My cries grow in volume, as do his. I feel every deep groan emanate from Peeta's throat.

After an hour of sweet sighs and amazing pleasure, Peeta collapses beside me, spooning around me. I don't remember a time where I've ever been so happy. I never will be this happy ever again. But maybe with Peeta around, it will never go away.

My life goes on, but not alone. Peeta and I go on to marry, having two gorgeous children. No longer do I fight the scary darkness of depression, and now Peeta must now share the reserved spot in my heart that knows no mourning or pain, with a young boy and girl, who run about with Blakely by the pier.

"I will love another girl one day," He told me as he knelt, holding out a beautiful ring to me. "She'll look just like you and have my last name."

My heart belongs to you. You healed me, and I'll never let you go.