The centuries had not been kind to a creature like himself; one who lives in the night and hunts sentient prey that looks him in the eye and knows, understands what he is.
Peeta had been alive for so long, that life felt like nothing more than a distraction. His time with the Volturi only solidified that belief. Since the beginning of his “new life”, he hunted only animals, which meant that he would always be separate from the norm; so he did what came naturally and carved out his own niche in the world. He became a healer — hands that gave life more often than took it.
He became almost happy with himself.
And still, he couldn’t help wondering if there was anything left for him to rejoice in. Living an eternity had never felt as much of a curse as it did so many years down the road.
“I refuse to be like the rest,” he fervently whispered to Marcus one evening, when Aro had ordered another line-up of slaughter victims. The gold tint of his eyes bored into the blood red of Marcus’, “So I’m leaving. Tell them to leave me in peace, and they shall never hear of me again.”
That night, he stowed away on a boat to America and never looked back. The day he treated a young Katniss was one he would always remember, her face permanently etched into his mind.
He followed her, watched from afar, keeping his distance; but slowly, unwittingly, leaving his heart with her. To this day, he kept distant vigil over her, as she travelled across the country and suffered in silence.
The year was 1911, and Katniss Everdeen was 16 years old.
She was an adventurous child - always so keen on exploring:
getting into a bit of mischief was a bonus. That was what
had spurred her to climb the maple tree, early one Sunday
morning -- the possibility of discovering a nest of birds upon
one tall, tall branch. But twice as easily as she had
ascended, she fell, breaking her leg as she collapsed upon
the grass.
Her family's doctor wasn't in, so an impromptu one called
upon her - Doctor Peeta Mellark. The man with cold hands
and warm eyes, as she so fondly remembered him. It was
easy to get lost in conversation with the man, even as her
leg screamed for attention. He was also impossible to forget:
as she aged, she even swore to seeing him, out of the
corner of her eye - but, each time she turned, there was
nothing. On more than one occasion, she considered visiting
a psychiatrist -- after all, what sane person saw visions of
a man she hardly knew around every corner?
Eventually, she married, but she never lost that nonsensical
feeling that he was watching over her. Through her
husband's abuse, however, she began to lose faith in her
Saviour. Her Doctor. And after the loss of her son,
mortality no longer held the appeal it once had. That was
why she had jumped - she simply couldn't take it anymore.
Now, however, her heart beats faintly; she's in the morgue,
awaiting examination. Her eyes are impossibly heavy, and
she feels no desire whatsoever to open them. For t he first
time in so many years, she felt peace. But, still, she lived --
though it was short-lived. A woman with such impossible
injury couldn't survive much longer. Though, silly enough,
her thoughts strayed to her Doctor; and, if one were to look
close enough, they could see the smallest imprint of a
smile on her blue-tinted lips.
titsay
