Tonight, my dreams segued away from the usual barrage of faces of the screamless dead. The one's I unintentionally-and very intentionally- murdered.

But it didn't make them any less terrifying.

After watching a montage of Finnick, Madge, Boggs, Coin, Snow and a fireball that was formerly my little sister, I slowly slipped into a steady stream of darkness, and welcomed it willingly. My mind was shutting itself down, piece by piece, and I was helpless to do anything about it.

I was vulnerable.

I hated that.

Then suddenly, my dreams changed, and I was in a room.

Alone.

All alone.

There was a shaft of light bleeding through the shafts in the windows and doors that I couldn't seem to open or break through. Just streams of golden lines thrown haphazardly around the room.

"Hello?" I called, unsure what was going on in the complete and utter silence.

But there shouldn't have been such silence.

When I was younger, Dad had told me that nobody can ever be in total silence, even if every other sound in the world stopped for a moment to take a breath, even if you were trapped in a soundproof box with only you and your thoughts, and your thoughts went on vacation.

You would hear the beating of your heart.

You would hear the hitch of your breath.

I heard nothing.

Gasping, I raced around the room, my fingers searching for the door handle, and feeling nothing against my long, thin fingers.

Numb. Cold. Alone.

Dead.

I screamed out, trying to break the silence, but now no words would exit my mouth.

I was empty.

No beating heart.

No hitching breath.

Because I was dead.

I was dead inside.

Finally, after collapsing on the floor in a fit of silent tears, I heard the faint whisperings of a sound. I stumbled to my feet and listened intently.

Finally I heard it.

Alone.

I looked down at my hands, and slowly but surely, as the force of the whispers gained in volume and ferocity, I began to disappear; like dust in the wind.

And finally, I understand what this dream is about. Just before I ebb away like the tide against the shore.

Only, I won't return.

Because they won't.

Abandoned.

I've been abandoned. By everyone I have ever known and loved. They left me, and didn't look back.

My abandonment takes hold and I disappear into the nothingness and fall ever deeper into the depths of my despair.

Katniss,

I toss and turn and scream and shake, my bedclothes clinging to me from my profuse sweating.

Alone.

I'm all alone.

"Katniss!"

Except that I'm not.

My eyes burst open in an explosion but I remain planted to the bed, my chest heaving back and forth like a pendulum.

A hand grasps my shoulder and I see a flicker of light from my periphery.

And despite it all, just the feeling of closeness, of not being entirely alone, calms me down. If only for a moment.

Slowly, I pull myself up onto my elbows and am consumed by the stark blue colour of Peeta's eyes, wide with concern.

"Peeta," the word is soft on my lips, barely more than a whisper, and I see the tension ease from his shoulders only slightly in the light of the candle he is holding in his left hand.

"Are you okay?" He asks, then immediately backtracks. "Sorry, stupid question right? Of course you're not."

He knows me so well.

"What are you doing here?" I ask. My throat is dry and scratchy and I know what he'll say right before he does, because it's become my nightly routine.

"I heard you screaming, and I had to see if you were okay."

I knew I screamed away my night terrors as they threatened to consume me. I did this every night for the last year ad a half, but my throat was aching from the sheer intensity of my screams.

But this is nothing new. Peeta knows that. And I know something too.

That that wasn't what I asked.

"No," I shake my head, trying to break free from my daze and playing that game he invented- and that my sanity depends on- while travelling to the Capitol. Real or not real. I decide it's real, though I was on the fence.

"No," I say again, looking him straight in the eye as he perches himself tentatively on the edge of my bed. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you at your house?"

He looks away, his eyes flitting back and forth to my face. Just like in school. Just like the Victor's meeting. Trying not to look at me, not daring to meet my eyes, but unable to stop himself from looking at me.

The habit of a lifetime.

And it makes my heart twist within my chest.

Peeta cleared his throat and looked in the opposite direction once more, before returning to me. Like he always does. Like he'll continue to do. And it's the reason my pulse stutters in my veins, He turns toward me once more, and it's my turn to glance away. "When I was here yesterday," he said, tilting his head towards the stairs visible from the open doorway. "I noticed that you were running low on bread, and I know that greasy Sae has been keeping you from starving to death, but I couldn't sleep, so…."

He leaves the still flickering candle on my bedside and pulls a bag from his back. He rummages around until he finds a small paper bag, pulls out a cheese bun and hands it to me.

"I left the bread downstairs already. I just made thought you'd like some of these. After all, they are your favourite." He smiles shyly and rises from my bed. I grasp the sleeve of his shirt and plead with him silently to stay. He gets the message and dutifully lies on the covers next to me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders, where I use it as a pillow and breath in the scent of cinnamon and hope he doesn't notice.

We don't say a word.

Because we don't have to.

We are two broken pieces, and maybe, together, we can make a whole.

But for now, we just lie there, leaning on each other, until the flickering flame dies and is replaced by the dusty hue of early morning, followed by the burning orange brightness of sunrise.

And as I drift away-the sound of Peeta's breath soothing me into sleep- one thought crosses my mind:

I may have been abandoned. But I'll never be alone.