I slowly walk into Peeta's hospital room. The only furniture in the room is his bed. He wears a hospital gown and pants. I think the doctors are still worried about him killing himself. They always lock his room at night. Two guards stand outside the door, ready to step in in case Peeta loses control. His flashbacks have become less often and not as severe but I think he's going to be living with them for the rest of his life.
"Hey." I say softly. Peeta doesn't reply as he eyes me suspiciously. It's been just over a week I think since we've returned to 13 from the Capitol. Hopefully soon we'll be able to return to 12. The people have started rebuilding. My burns from the Capitol bombing have started to feel but the mental scars will stay for a lifetime. "How are you feeling?" I stand about a meter away from him. He still doesn't answer. "I've heard that we'll be able to go home soon."
"Home?" He lets out a bitter laugh.
"There isn't a lot left but with time we'll rebuild."
"There never was anything there Katniss. Rebuild lives of poverty and suffering? Is that what you want to do?"
"Things are changing, for the better."
"You call war changing for the better?"
"Peeta. . . things are going to be better now, not perfect, but better."
"For you they might be."
"They'll be better for you too." I take another small step towards him, still weary. His mood towards me varies from day to day, minute to minute even.
"Nothing ever gets better."
"That's not true. You've already come so far. You're beginning to be able to tell real from not real.
"What about Johanna?"
"She's getting better too, just like you are. You've both been through so much." I take another step towards his bed and I'm now beside him. The doctors now trust him to be without restraints.
"You can't possibly say recovery is that simple." I sigh internally. He's fighting me on everything I say. Maybe I should just leave before things get out of hand.
"Maybe I should go."
"Maybe you should." His voice is cold and it matches the look in his eyes. I don't want to admit it but his words hurt.
"Peeta . . ." I reach out and gently touch his arm.
"Don't touch me!" He quickly pulls his arm away and I take a small step back in case he lashes out.
"Is it alright if I just sit in your room with you?"
"I try to keep my distance from mutts if I can." His words hit me hard. I thought he had gotten over the whole mutt thing, I guess not. I want to grab him and hold him close but I'm sure that would cause him to snap.
"Not real, Peeta. Not real." I try to bring back the little game we played when we were in the Capitol to help him sort through his memories.
"You think I'm going to believe you? You may have everyone else fooled," Peeta sits up in the bed and looks me in the eye, "But I won't fall for it."
"Peeta, please. Your name is Peeta Mellark. Your favourite colour is orange, sunset orange. You've been in the hunger games twice and you've loved me since you were five.
"I was really stupid when I was five." I can feel him slipping from me. He's been so good for the past few days and now he's slipping.
"Peeta stop," I'm begging him now, "They're messing with you. Don't let them. Don't let them in." I place a hand on his bed, knowing very well that he might snap it.
"You're the only one messing with me!" He whacks my hand off the bed.
"Peeta please. Not real. Come back to me." I start to become frustrated. He needs to fight this off. He needs to be strong for me.
"Why aren't you helping the others that are injured?" I pause before I answer. I want to say because I love you but I feel like that will push him over the edge.
"You're injured too."
"So? At least I have my priorities straight."
"And what's that mean?"
"You're the reason for this. All of this." It feels like my breaths been knocked out of me. I already feel guilty enough about what happened, I don't need him to intensify those feelings.
"Peeta. . .Please stop." I feel like I'm close to crying. I miss the old Peeta. The one who was always there to comfort me and hold me.
His face softens a little, "Are you hurt?" I assume he means physically.
"Not because of you." I wrap my hands around myself, becoming self-conscious of myself. The burns from the bombs have done a number on my body.
The bombs. . . No. I can't let myself think of them. It's too soon, the memories too fresh. The wounds still too fresh.
"You are a piece of work." I shake my head.
"I can't listen to you anymore." I take a step back preparing to leave. To where I don't know, anywhere away from him. Away from his snarky mouth and poisoned mind.
"Thanks for proving my point."
"What?" I grumble. I'm going to snap any second now. I've let his words get to me.
"You never stop lying." His words bring me back to a dark, scarier time.
"Oh, my dear Miss Everdeen. I thought we had agreed not to lie to each other."
"Hard to believe." His words bring me back to the present.
"What do you want from me?" The guards turn to look in, preparing themselves to step in and break up the fight that is inevitable.
"I want you to know how big of a mistake you made. You're making us all pay for your stupid act."
"Do you think I don't know that?! Do you think I don't feel bad for what's happened?!"
One of the guards comes forward. "I think you should leave."
I glare at Peeta, I'm not done with him yet, "You need to snap out of this."
"Aww, go find Finnick. Maybe he can kiss it better." His statement shocks me on so many levels. First of all Finnick was married, Peeta even decorated their wedding cake. Second, Finnick is dead. Peeta was there, how can he not remember? Probably just another death he'll blame on me.
"He's dead, Peeta. Don't you remember?" I ask coldly.
"Good. At least he won't nag me about owing him anything." This is not my Peeta, this is not the man I fell in love with.
"Good? He was married! His wife is pregnant without a husband!" I step towards him.
"And his wedding cake was beautiful."
One of the guard grabs my arm, "Let's go. "I quickly pull it from his grasp, I don't like being touched.
"I know, you made it." I tell Peeta
"At least we know he's fertile after spending so much time in the Capitol," He shifts, "You really should listen to what other people have to say. One day that big head of yours might not be attached to your body.
"Shut up! Just shut up!" I can't tell if he's threatening me or warning me. Either way it hurts. A lot.
The guard grabs me and pulls me back, away from Peeta. Away from the threat. Who's the threat, me or him? "You need to leave." He tells me again.
Peeta frowns, "You don't know anything, Katniss. Nothing."
"Shut up!" I repeat, not knowing what else to say. Peeta closes his mouth and lays back down.
"What's happened to you?" I lower my voice. I know some of what he's been through, torture. Horrible torture. But that's not what I'm asking about. Even since the war finished in the Capitol he's slipped back to his hijacked state.
"I don't want to scare you." The sentence starts with a sarcastic edge but his face tells a different story. He doesn't want to damage me anymore than I already am.
"You need to talk to somebody. I thought you were getting better." He says nothing, only stares at me with a slight glimpse of regret. "Please. Whatever you're seeing, whatever your brain is telling you isn't real." He says something under his breath, "What?"
"Leave. I want to see one of the doctors."
"Fine." I grumbled and walk out of his room, tugging the guard's hand off and glaring as I walk by. I walk down the hall back to my room. The doctors still don't think I'm well enough to be discharged. What do they know? I'm fine. I lay on my bed and stare at my ceiling, thinking over my encounter with Peeta.
A lady who looks unfamiliar poke her head in my room, "Shouldn't you be in therapy?" Therapy. It was useless. A waste of time.
"I didn't feel like going."
"You should go." Real convincing on her part.
"That's nice." I roll over so I'm facing away from her. I do what I want. I hear her sigh and her footsteps as she walks away. Was I too harsh to Peeta? I keep trying to remind myself that he isn't himself right now, his words aren't true. He doesn't mean what he's saying. He'd never intentionally hurt me. I'm torn from my thoughts when I hear yelling down the hall. I think for a moment on whether or not I want to get up and investigate and decide I should, not like I have anything better to do.
I make sure no doctors are near and walk down the hall, towards the yelling. I soon realize that the yelling's coming from Peeta's room. I go up to his door and look in. Peeta must be having his therapy, there's pictures of me on the walls but he doesn't seem to be taking it well. He tears each picture off the wall, shredding them into pieces. When he gets to the last one he hesitates, staring at it while he breathes heavily.
"Peeta. . ." I put my hand up to the door. I want to go in and hug him, tell him that whatever he's thinking of isn't real but going in would only lead to me getting hurt. Or worse. He seems to hear me and looks up. He looks between me and the photo. I mouth the words not real to him. He stands up and comes over to the door, still occasionally looking at the photo.
"Not real. Your memories aren't real." I'm not sure if he can hear me but I hope he can. He holds the picture up to the window, it's a picture of me from school when I was young. I'm singing. I smile and nod my head, "Real."
"Can you come in?" I guess he can hear me. I'm a bit apprehensive to but I can't deny his request. I look down the hall for someone to let me in.
"Hey." I say down the hall.
A man walks over a few minutes later, "Yes?"
"He wants to see me." I point to Peeta's room. The man pulls out a key but hesitates.
"The door is locked for a reason."
"I have guards for a reason." He rolls his eyes and lets me in. I walk in slowly, waiting to see how he reacts to my presence. He takes a few steps back from me. When I'm in the room I notice the paintings of myself which have been brought in. "It's alright." I say softly and look around at the paintings.
"What's alright with this? There's nothing alright with this."
"I mean I'm not going to hurt you."
"How can I be sure?" He takes another step back, "How can I wake up from a nightmare when it's reality?"
"I'd never hurt you. Don't let them change you. You're more than a piece in their games." I think back to that night on the roof of the training centre.
"I don't know how to say it exactly. Only…I want to die as myself. Does that make any sense? I don't want them to change me in there. Turn me into some kind of monster that I'm not."
He doesn't reply and looks back down at the photo. "The pictures real." I take a step towards him, hoping he won't notice.
"Snow is dead. Real or not real?"
"Real, he can't hurt you anymore." Peeta nods.
"I painted these?"
"I guess so, I've never seen you painting though." Another step.
"Who are you really?"
"An ally," I say, repeating the word I once told him.
"How could I possibly forget that I loved you?" He doesn't seem to notice that I'm inching my way towards him.
"It's not your fault. What they did to you. . ." I trail off and take another step. I reach out my hand to touch his arm.
Please don't break my wrist.
"You're dead," he swallows and takes a step back, "You're dead! I saw it!" He starts breathing heavily and backs against the wall, thrown into a panic attack.
"No, Peeta. No. I'm right here. With you. "I reach out and realize too late that I've made a mistake. He's too far gone into the flashback.
"Don't touch me!" He grabs my arm and flings me towards the wall, stepping out of the way. My head hits first and I see strange shapes floating in my eyes. I slide down the wall and stay still, trying to show Peeta that I'm not a threat. He backs away quickly and sits against the farthest from me wall, covering his face with his hands.
"Do you want me to leave?" I ask gently. All I get in response is a few muffled sobs. "Peeta?" I slowly make my way towards him. The side of my face feels warm and I'm sure it's bleeding. He's again consumed by his own thoughts and doesn't seem to notice me.
"Please come back to me." I mostly say to myself but part of me hopes he also hears. I start to cry as I watch him battle his internal demons. This once strong boy, who was always there for me, is broken. Severed in two. A line of blood runs down my face and I wipe it away.
"I don't want to, but I'm almost glad that you're crying." He glances at me for a second before standing up. I look at him briefly then rest my head on my knees, if he's coming over to finish me it isn't going to be much of a fight.
"Did you mean what you said?" He drags me from my thoughts. I look up at him, clearing looking confused because he explains. "The videos that showed on television. Real or not real?"
"What videos?" He clenches his fists, he hates not getting an immediate response. "What videos, Peeta?"
"Of you singing." I think for a minute then answer real. "How come you never sing?"
"I don't know." I say softly. It reminds me too much of Prim and Rue.
"Is it because-" a doctor walks in, cutting Peeta off. I'll never know what he was going to say.
"Come with me, Peeta." He's still for a moment then follows the doctor out of the room. Once he's gone I take a few minutes to really look over the paintings. Most of them are of me. One is still blank with a paintbrush in the orange. I stand up and wipe the blood away again. My legs are shaky and I sit on his bed so I don't collapse.
"This is one way to be vain." Johanna comes in and glances at the paintings before focusing on me.
"Thanks Johanna." I roll my eyes. I'm really not in the mood for her sarcastic attitude, I never am.
"Now I know what your only talent is."
"What?" I ask, confused.
"Painting idiot. You're not too bad."
"They're not mine. Peeta did them. And if I was to paint I would never paint myself."
"So he's getting better."
"I don't know, I thought he was. When we were in the Capitol he was alright aside from a few flashbacks but ever since we've been back . . . he's not himself again."
"Would you rather he be dead?"
"What? No! Of course not." I hiss. How dare she even ask that?
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. He might be . . . different but at least he's still here with me."
"Remember when you told me what Finnick said? How he wished we were all dead? I agree with him."
"Johanna. . ." her words take me back, "the worst is over."
"We still have to live with ourselves. And I have to see your face every day." She smirks and tries to seem more cheery than she really
"Whatever." I roll my eyes and try to match her attitude but I can't pull off the act as good as she can.
"Don't worry, you're not that ugly. That's why Peeta paints your face over and over." She runs her fingers across the plain canvass.
"I don't know why he paints me. He still thinks I'm a mutt. He probably shreds the pictures when he's done."
"Or maybe it's the old Peeta starting to show through."
"I hope so." There's an awkward silence between us and I need to break it, "Do you know where he went?"
"They're trying a new medication I think. To keep him calm." She laughs and I know there must be an interesting story, "They tried to give it to me. Tried."
"What happened. . .?" I ask apprehensively.
"Nothing." She shakes her head and I grin as she walks out. She's always causing trouble but it always makes me laugh.
"Katniss?" My Mom walks into the room looking worried. We haven't been talking a lot since what went down in the Capitol. I know she's grieving just like I am.
"Hi," I say softly, "I was just going to look for Peeta." I stand up and shift uncomfortably.
"You need to come with me. Rue's family is here." I stare at her, gawking for a second before the words sink in. Why are they here?
"So? There's nothing I could do to save her daughter. There's not going to be anything I can do to help her either." I say, harsher than I need to.
"She wants to thank you."
"For what?" I laugh bitterly, "There's no reason to thank me." I walk past my Mom and head towards my room.
"Katniss."
"What." I stop but don't turn to look at her. If I do ill start crying and I don't want her to see me weak.
"Why are you upset with me? We couldn't help Prim. None of us had any idea that would happen."
"Don't talk about her!" Neither of us moves or speaks and I regret my harsh tone. I bite my lip, "Sorry." As much as I lost a sister that day my mother lost a daughter. She says nothing as she leaves. I growl and hit my head on the wall. A few doctors and nurses walk by, whispering about something. Probably me and how I'm 'unstable'. I hurry back to my room and wash the blood off my face. I feel better after that. I sit down on my bed and wait for Peeta to come back. We left on unfriendly terms and I want to redeem myself. I always go into his room with the plan of being kind and supportive but I always let his words get to me and I snap at him.
What kind of person am I?
Peeta walks by with two guards but doesn't stop at my door. He doesn't even walk in. After a minute I walk down to his room. The room behind the one way mirror is empty, do they trust that he's getting better or are they lazy? He's in his room staring at the blank canvas, just staring. I stand by the door, hoping for him to notice me in the window. If he doesn't, I won't bother him. He eventually turns around and notices me. He opens the door and I'm surprised that they haven't locked his door.
"Where did you go earlier?" I ask softly, not wanting to set him off.
"The doctor talked to me for a bit."
"How'd that go?"
"Why does it matter?"
"Just trying to make conversation. . ."
"Look Katniss, I don't know what to believe anymore and small chat isn't going to help me remember things. So- you should save your breath."
"Then what do you want to talk about? If you didn't want to see me you wouldn't have let me in."
"My family is dead. Real or not real?" I'm taken back by how simple he manages to say the question. His voice doesn't waver. Of course not all of his family was nice to him. I swallow, not knowing how to answer.
"Katniss."
"Real." I say so softly that I'm not sure he'll hear me, maybe it'll be better that way. He nods and once again focuses on the canvas.
"I'm sorry." He lets out a long sigh and picks up the paintbrush. "I'm so sorry." He nods again and runs the paintbrush across the canvas, leaving a trail of orange.
"What are you painting?"
"I don't know yet."
"Do you want me to stay?"
"I don't care."
"Choose. What do you want? You have the power to make decisions again."
"I want my life back."
"I know, Peeta. And I wish I was the one that was taken instead of you."
"You don't want to wish for that."
"I do. It should have been me in the Capitol."
"It shouldn't have been anyone in the Capitol."
"That's true, but if it had to be one of us I wish it had been me."
"Who would be the mockingjay?" Another streak of paint.
"You. You'd have been better anyway. You're better with words."
"You went through with what you said though. You lead the rebels. I could only say what Snow wanted me to."
"You did what you had to to survive."
"Did I actually survive?"
"You're surviving, not thriving, but holding on."
He sighs and puts the paintbrush down, "Thanks."
"Please don't make me the bad guy here."
"I'm going to bed." He walks over to his bed, not making eye contact with me.
"Peeta please . . ."
"I said, I'm going to bed."
"It's the middle of the day." His loose hands turn into fists, resting at his sides. "If you want me to leave you could ask. You don't have to come up with an excuse. "He takes a step forward but I don't let up. "Ask."
Peeta grabs my shoulders and throws me to the ground, I have no time to react and my already sore head hits the ground hard. He grabs my legs and drags me out of his room, making sure I hit my head on the doorway on the way out. "Would you leave? Thanks." He drops my feet and walks back into his room. He slams the door shut, barely missing my head. I rub my head, not trusting myself to stand. I wouldn't doubt that I have another concussion. I slowly stand up and take a few steps but my vision blurs and I fall to my knees.
"Katniss!" Gale appears out of nowhere and helps me to my feet, looking me over. I still haven't forgiven him over what happened in the Capitol, I don't think I ever will.
"I don't need your help." I hiss and shove him away.
"Why were you in his room? You need someone else to be around if you're going to be with him."
"No one was around."
"Then you shouldn't have been with him."
"I trust him more than I do you." I mutter and head towards my room before he has chance to reply. I nearly fall a few times but am able to remain on my feet. I collapse on my bed and try to sleep but it evades me for hours. I pace and try to clear my mind but the bad thoughts and memories linger.
I must eventually fall asleep because nightmares plague my sleep. All the dead tributes walk around me in a circle, I'm laying down and they glare down at me, arguing amongst themselves who will be the lucky one to finish me off. Cato steps forwards and as the fatal blow comes down Peeta shoves me out of the way and takes the impact.
"Just get up would you?" I'm torn from my dream from the words, Johanna is at the foot of my bed with her arms crossed. I sit up, gasping, and throw the blankets off of me. I'm soaked in sweat. How much did Johanna see? Hear?
"Get out."
"Calm down."
"Out!"
"Who were you dreaming about?"
"Why ask when you already know?"
"Just trying to be nice." She shrugs and saunters over to the door.
"Well stop. It doesn't suit you."
"It suits me fine." I roll over and bury my face in the pillow. "You need to get up anyways."
"And you're going to make me?" My voice is so muffled I'm not sure if she can understand me.
"Get up." I don't move, "Get up."
"Go away."
"Peeta is waiting."
"What?" I sit up slightly and turn to look at her. She's probably just lying, why would Peeta want to see me? Which reminds me, I should probably get someone to check my head out.
"He's waiting. I think he wants to say something."
"Is he alright?"
"I don't know. They don't want me around him. I'm a 'bad influence'."
"You're a bad influence on everyone." I laugh and slowly stand up. My head is pounding and the last thing I want right now is to collapse in front of Johanna. Or anyone for that matter.
"You okay?"
I nod and grab my head, "Just half asleep still." She shrugs and leaves the room, I follow her out.
"How long were you watching me?" She shrugs again, same old Johanna. "You know, most people would consider that kind of thing wrong."
"I'm not most people."
"Oh I know," it's silent for a moment as we walk, "How much did you see and hear?" I ask in a hushed tone.
"It doesn't matter. I'm used to people hurting."
"You can't tell anyone. They think I'm getting better." She nods and I lag behind her, already tired from walking.
"What will do if Peeta doesn't love you anymore?"
"He'll come around."
"What if he decides he doesn't love you? It could happen you know."
"Why don't we leave this for when and if it happens?"
"It could still happen . . ." She drifts off and walks into her own room without saying another word. I sigh, pulling my hair back and making a pony with my hands. I let it go and finish walking to Peeta's room, walking in without knocking. Hopefully he doesn't kill me. I find him sitting on his bed, looking at a half finished painting.
"Johanna said you wanted to talk to me." My voice isn't as soft as before, he did hurt me after all. Although, I did push him.
"I have some questions."
"Sure."
"You just acted like you were in love with me in the first Hunger Games, real or not real?"
"Real, at the time but things are always changing."
"Things are always changing, Katniss."
"I love you, Peeta."
"Don't say that."
"Why not?" My voice rises unintentionally.
"Prim died, real or not real?"
"Real." My voice goes back to weak.
"Would that have happened if you hadn't become the mockingjay?"
"Probably not . . ."
"If it helped you then yes," but then I'm saying I'm glad my sister's dead, "Look, I don't know, alright? Why does it matter?"
"Why do you care so much about me? You didn't before."
"We've been over this already, Peeta."
"How do you expect me to believe you, Katniss?" I sigh and rub my face.
"Did you just bring me down here to argue?"
"No. I wanted to ask you if you wanted this." He stands up and pulls out a canvas from under the bed.
"What's it of?" He pulls off the cover and I see my sister, Prim. It's of the two of us when we were younger. We're holding hands at school and Prim still has a little duck tail sticking out.
"I remember this day." I cover my mouth and frantically shake my head.
"I don't want it. I can't have it."
"Don't you want a memory of your sister?"
"Get it away!" I take a step away from the cursed painting, tripping over my own feet and land in a hyperventilating heap. Peeta doesn't move for a second, just taking me in, then puts the painting back under his bed. That's when the tears starts. I'd been trying so hard to send all thoughts of Prim to the back of my mind but all those thoughts are coming back, stronger than ever. I rest my head against the cool cement floor and my body is taken over by spasms. Peeta sits down on his bed, just watching me like I'm some experiment.
I don't know how much time passes, ten minutes, twenty, an hour? Peeta must have been slowly working his way towards me because he wraps an arm around me and pulls me onto his lap which surprises me. Just earlier he was literally throwing me out of this room. We haven't had this much physical contact since before the hijacking. Maybe he really is getting better. Or maybe the meds are just helping.
"I miss her so much." The words escape my lips before I can stop them. He starts playing with my messy hair, not replying. "I feel like it's my fault." He goes to say something but shuts his mouth before anything audible comes out. "Is it? Am I a monster?"
"Things would've been so different if you never tried to defy the Capitol." Suddenly I'm angry at him. Of course things would be different. The Games would still be taking place. Children would still me murdered, others would die from hunger.
"Then maybe you should have killed me when I gave you the chance," I say, referring to the end of our first games where I gave him the option.
"Maybe I should have." His voice comes out clipped and he pushes me off his lap.
"What is wrong with you?!" I snap, it's probably just the tracker jacker venom talking but I can't stop myself. "You drag me out of your room then you comfort me then you want to kill me again!" I sit up so I don't feel as vulnerable.
"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you?!" He stands up and his loose hands turn into fists.
"What have I ever done to you?!" I stand up so we're equal.
"You lied to me. You made me fall in love with you, just to ruin everything. You're the reason we had a war. You're the reason thousands, if not millions of people re dead. You're the reason Prim's dead. And you're the reason you want to die," Peeta points to the door, "Leave. I won't bother asking you to come back." I fall to my knees and gasp for breath, it feels like there is no air in the entire room. All I can do in reply is frantically shake my head.