I don't like when the men and women in lab coats come in.
They poke and prod me which makes me near hysterical. Then they tell me to keep calm.
I can't keep calm while my mind tries to nail down a coherent thought. Vulgar scenes rip through my memory at an alarming pace. Almost like my mind doesn't want me to linger too long. It wants to distract me from the glossy edges that start to creep up the longer the memory is thought. I have no control over it.
The lab coats try to explain about my situation, that I was 'hijacked' by the Capitol. But I can't grasp the knowledge. It makes my head pound and I become enraged.
They knock me out when I can't get a hold of myself.
I think a lot about the day I was brought here and about the first time I saw the vile Katniss Everdeen. How I should have just crushed her windpipe. I have the strength to do it. Sometimes though, if my memory stays longer, I can see the look on her face.
She seemed relieved to see me; happy even. And then my head begins to throb and the memory switches again.
Delly comes every other day. I remember screaming at her the first day and she got hauled off. I try to keep calm now. Because I like Delly. She makes me feel kind of normal.
Sometimes it gets to be daunting though. She rallies around Katniss Everdeen, builds her up to be the complete opposite that is in my head.
"It frustrates me when you say these things about Katniss" I tell her through clenched teeth.
"I'm sorry to hear that Peeta. I would never lie to you, you know."
And I guess somewhere in the chaos of my thoughts I do know that. And this thought, my own thought, shakes the vision of the mutt Katniss and it becomes less sharp. Less real.
A small girl with blond hair comes in after weeks of being here. Her face is kind and her words are encouraging. I can't place a name with her face at first and then it hits me all at once.
Primrose Everdeen.
But it doesn't conjure up anger. I feel something more benevolent towards her.
She tells me they are going to try something new. They shoot a brightly colored liquid into my arm when they show me a video of Katniss. We are in a cave and she's telling me about Prim's goat but it doesn't match up with what's in my head. Calm and disorder thrash against one another inside my head. And then my brain feels scrambled. When Prim asks me questions, I can't hold onto the memory she's just tried to restore. I wind up asking about the goat from the story because it's the only solid thing I can focus on.
She pats my cheek with her tiny palm, "Don't give up Peeta. Katniss needs you."
I think it's the first time I haven't been disgusted by the sound of her name.
Haymitch Abernathy is always half buzzed when he comes to see me. But I think he's less drunk than I was used to seeing. He speaks softly at first and then shouts the more frustrated he gets. He brings a tape of someone singing, Katniss I think, but she looks too human. He plays it over and over. I know the song and start to sing along softly in my cracked voice when it starts playing for the tenth time.
Are you, are you coming to the tree?Where they strung up a man they
say murdered three. Strange things did happen here. No stranger
would it be if we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.
Haymitch stops me. "Do you recognize this song?"
"Yes. A coal miner used to sing it. I think I went to school with one of his kids. His voice was unlike anything I'd ever heard. The birds would stop to listen. I was always eager to pinpoint when they stopped."
He stares at me, something between a scowl and thoughtfulness on his face. "Do you remember how old you were?"
I try to reach back through the gauze that covers my very own memories, the ones that have not been tampered with, and push the shiny memories aside. "Maybe six or seven?" I finally answer.
Haymitch nods repeatedly. He seems pleased.
I sing the song for days as I try to extract the thoughts of my childhood.
Delly comes to see me with a proposition. It's sometime after they let me feed myself and have given me a sketchbook to draw in. She tells me about Annie and Finnick's wedding.
"Peeta, I have a favor to ask of you."
"I'm not sure if I in a position to grant favors, Delly…"
"No, they said I could ask you." She smiles, pushing a curl of hair behind her ears. I stare at her hair for a moment, glossy and clean. The image of Katniss' pitch black braid flits through my mind but I push it away before it can become anything. I nod at her to go ahead.
"Could you make their wedding cake?"
I can feel my lips turn up into a smile, "Of course."
When I actually begin on the cake, I can feel my focus coming back. And for one small second, my chest swells with pride at the thought that Katniss may see it and like it. And then I push it away before anything else can scar it.
When Katniss comes to see me, my whole body buzzes with emotion. My mind lashes out at me and I say things that feel like they aren't my own. It's when she is about to leave that my mind goes into a panic. Not a Capitol-induced panic but one of my own. I need to say something, something that I would know, only me. And so I dig in those childhood images I have conjured up and stored away.
"Katniss, I remember about the bread."
Something flickers across her face that makes me glad I remembered.
When I'm let out amongst my peers, I feel…weird. It's harder to hold onto my bearing out here with everyone distracting me. But I do talk, mostly through a clenched jaw. Delly remains enthusiastic and Prim gives me sad smiles when she sees me.
Seeing Katniss and Gale together makes my chest hurt, like the air is too big for my lungs. I mouth off again and as soon as they leave, Delly reprimands me. I become a muttering mess, arguing with myself. Everyone in the cafeteria stares at me, some shake their heads. People think I'm nuts and I can't say I disagree.
When they send me to be part of the Star Squad, I know it's a bad idea. I can't place why it is but my gut tells me it's bad.
But then I start asking questions and the squad tells me what is real and not real. I want to cry at the information. It makes me feel like my old self. When I ask Katniss if her favorite color is green and she confirms it, a weight lifts from my chest.
I haven't forgotten. It gives me the strength to push the gleaming memories back for one more night.
I feel like I'm a prisoner all over again. The explosions and screaming and fighting trigger the madness inside my head. I'm a blind to what I'm doing. I'm in and out of consciousness and I hear myself pleading to be killed. To save her, I have to be dead. But they won't do it. This is me; this is not the Capitol. I know they have to kill me.
Later, when we are underground and Katniss talks to me about shiny memories and then she strokes my hair, I am glad that I was not killed. That simple touch quiets the nightmares, giving me all the strength I need to push them back.
It is after Finnick is killed and she kisses the sense back into me, that I feel my heart begin to beat, for me, for her. It makes me tell her always and mean it. The reasons I fell in love with her, that I am in love with her, surge forward in my head. I am hit with the realization that I have always known, I have to protect her.
It's what gets me through everything that follows.
The battle.
Her sister's death.
Tearing the nightlock from her arm as they drag her away.
The time apart as we become stable.
When she kisses me, just me, back in District 12.
I live for her and I will always protect her.