In the dark of night I can feel Peeta wrapping his arms tighter around me. I know that he's having one of his episodes. His hold around me becomes too much and it feels like one of my ribs could break at any moment. I try to wake him by saying his name and shaking around in his arms, but it doesn't seem to have an effect on whatever he's seeing in his sleep.
"Peeta, wake up," I say, still squirming.
"PEETA, I CAN HARDLY BREATHE, LET GO." I say in a louder tone then before, but he continues to choke my waist with his strength.
He's never been this bad with his nightmares. The harder he squeezes, the more I can hear my heart splitting inside my chest.
I can feel the little air I have left escaping my lungs. My face has gone numb. He's going to kill me. This is it. I would have taken this opportunity so many years ago, when I wanted to die. But now I want to live.
I kick his prosthetic leg so hard that I hear it crack a little. Peeta immediately wakes up in a confused state, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands.
By the time he comes to complete consciousness, I've already retreated to the wall on the other side of the room. I'm staring at him. I can't blink. If I blink, it could set him off again. If I move, it could set him off again. Sleeping in the same bed as him wasn't such a good idea, especially when he's still like this.
What if he's always like this? It's exactly what Snow wanted. He wanted to make Peeta's arm a trap. He ruined my only refuge. The only place I ever felt safe is ruined.
Peeta gestures for me to come back into bed, but I just look down. I don't want to sleep alone, but I'm afraid of what might happen when I'm actually asleep.
"What?" He asks, sounding annoyed.
How can he be annoyed when he's the one that hurt me?
"Nothing," my tone is flat, blank, and emotionless.
I know it's not his fault, he doesn't mean to do these things to me. Clearly he doesn't know what happened or else he would be rushing to my side, soothing my bruises with a cold piece of meat from the freezer and a couple kisses.
I crawl back into bed with him like a lone rabbit in the rain, finding shelter under a bush. I still have that fear rattling through my mind that his nightmares might break me in half tonight, so I sleep towards the edge of the bed with my back facing him.
"Katniss," he says softly, pulling me towards him by the waist. I groan in pain when he touches me because of the bruises he's made. He still doesn't know, but I won't tell him. He'll never forgive himself.
"Katniss?" I can hear a strain in his voice, as if he knows he's done it. He's grazing his fingers over the bruises. He knows he's the reason I'm hurting. I can't protect him from the truth, yet I continue to lie.
"Nothing, I just fell in the shower a couple days ago," I look back and kiss the tip of his nose.
When Peeta has an episode, there's really no way to calm him down. I just have to let him come back to me on his own. The only thing I can do is help him recover afterwards. I kiss his neck, his cheeks, his lips, his chest, even lower.
When he was healing after the war, he would shudder at my touch. Now he just breathes heavily. I thought that if I make him feel good in all the right places, it would bring his mind back to something peaceful.
Some nights my technique works and some nights it doesn't. When the kisses aren't enough I let him rip off my dress no matter how tired I am. I want him. I always want him. But whenever Peeta has an episode, he's another person, filled with hatred and lust.
There's my sweet, gentle Peeta who likes to thrust slow, afraid of breaking me. Then there is the rough Peeta, that hates me, but still needs me to fulfill his desires.
He rests his head on my shoulder, whispering things into my ear. How much he loves me, how sorry he is for hurting me, how he'll never be able to make it up to me, but he'll try.
I feel his hand slip between my legs and he begins to rub me. I urge him to use his finger. In and out, in and out, in and out. My breathing becomes erratic. My eyes shut. My legs go numb.
"Oh god," I pant softly, trying to hold back my moans. Peeta rubs me harder, slipping his finger deeper into me. It feels so good. I can't hold back. So good. I could- Oh fuck.
I grab onto Peeta's arm as he continues to fuck me with his fingers. I'm about to fall over the edge. He starts to rub my clit with his thumb and my body shudders in ecstasy.
"Right, there," I manage to choke out. Fuck, Peeta. Oh god, Peeta. I think to myself, bucking my hips against his hand. I come so hard that I can't help the pleasured scream that escapes my lips.
My entire body is numb.
He thinks he'll never be able to make it up to me, but he'll try.