AN: I want to thank my wonderful wonderful Beta (ILoveWriting1996) who took my first draft and shaped the story into exactly what I wanted it to be to tell the story I wanted to get over.
If you are affected by any of the content of the story please don't hesitate to contact me if you want to discuss anything.
As usual, I own none of the characters of The Hunger Games
"Good morning, beautiful," Peeta greets as he snuggles in close to me, caressing my stomach.
I feel his breath dance on my skin. I peer at the bedside clock and know we won't be having any romantic time today. Normally I work in the afternoons and am used to leaving work at closing, but not today. The morning shift has allowed my afternoon to be free which is a nice change.
"Peeta …" I moan, "Not now. I have to get ready for work."
He smiles against my skin and gently kisses my shoulder. "I was talking to our daughter. But good morning to you, too," he informs, his hands moving freely over my abdomen.
I'm 15 weeks pregnant and starting to show, but not too obviously though. I can still fit into my uniform of a white shirt and pencil skirt – well barely. The skirt is verging on too tight, and I'd be lying if I said I don't undo the buttons and zip at the back to get more comfortable while I'm sitting down at the desk.
"It could be a boy, Peeta. Then how will he feel when you're calling him 'our daughter'? You can't start the confusion now!" I playfully suggest before pushing the covers back and getting up.
Peeta has a rare day off from the bakery and therefore stays in bed as I eat breakfast before taking my lunch from the fridge and putting it in my bag. After showering I dress in my uniform, not even bothering to button and zip my skirt.
"Just buy a bigger skirt," Peeta suggests from the bed when he sees me walking around with it open and hanging loosely from my hips.
It's more comfortable than sucking in all the time, not to mention the buttons threaten to ricochet every time I even attempt to fasten them. Ignoring his comment I gather my things into my bag while slipping on my low heels and finally fastening the skirt.
"I'll see you later," I say before kissing him goodbye as he lays sprawled in our bed. "I love you!" I add as I walk out of our bedroom and to the front door.
"You too!" he shouts as I'm about to leave. I just smile to myself and close the door.
I work as a teller at the smallest branch of the Bank of Panem in the city. I'm not sure why it's even open when there are larger branches 4 and 5 blocks away. However there is still a steady flow of customers so we must be doing something right.
I'm 15 minutes away when I get a text from Haymitch Abernathy, one of the bank's managers, stating that he 'can't quite make it in for opening time', which is not atypical of him. It's a miracle he's in employment with his alcoholism. The big bosses haven't spotted it yet, but it's no secret in our branch or with our district manager Effie Trinket.
My colleague Lavinia is already in along with Effie, who opens everyday, when I arrive. We get to work quickly and the day starts to pass by.
I sit at my desk calculating currency on the computer when Haymitch stands in front of me.
"Have you finished verifying the legality of the documents I put on your desk earlier?" he asks in a slothful manner. "Effie's badgering me for them because of Snow."
The smell of alcohol radiates from him. It's no wonder Effie is always riding his back. I do love the ill-mannered drunk though. He trained me in my position from the start and taught me everything I know. The last thing I want is for him to lose his job over his everlasting hold on the bottle.
"I finished them," I confirm, taking their folder from the top drawer and handing it to him. He takes it and turns to leave. "Haymitch?" I say, stopping him in his tracks.
He gives me a look, "What?"
I rummage in my bag then slide a pack of gum to the edge of the desk towards him. He glances at it with humor, "Trying to tell me something, sweetheart?"
"Yes." I say. "Get yourself together, before you lose your job. But if you can't do that, then at least don't broadcast your problems to the workplace by smelling like you just stepped out of a bar."
"I did just step out of a bar," he retorts with a grin and animated expression. He takes the gum off the desk and pops a piece into his mouth, then turns and walks away.
I check the clock as I finish balancing coins and checks, I put them in the cash drawer and see that my shift has mere minutes left. Johanna Mason comes into the bank to take my place and I hastily zip and fasten my skirt before standing and gathering my things.
"Hi, Johanna," I greet when she stands by the desk.
"Katniss," she says almost as if she's annoyed. She takes a seat once I've moved out of her way.
"See you tomorrow," I say as I prepare to leave.
"Bye," she replies in a rather dry tone.
I have a dry speaking voice myself, sometimes monotone, but the way she speaks often has more to do with her perpetual mood than anything else. I exit the building and begin my journey to the bus stop.
The street isn't as busy as I would expect for this time of day, but when I hear heavy footsteps behind me I reach into my coat pocket for my mace. Thinking back for a second, I had heard the loud footsteps as soon as I'd left the bank but didn't pay any heed to them. With a quick glance I see a hooded man. I hasten my stride to see his reaction. He matches the pace and I realize my mace is not in my pocket. Instead I reach to my bag for my nunchucks. Before I can retrieve them, I feel my body being slammed against the wall of a brick building. I grab at his hands as he covers my mouth. I kick and scream to no avail, my shoe falling onto the sidewalk as he pulls me into an alley. I stomp as forcefully as I possibly can in hopes of injuring his feet as I dig my elbow roughly into his ribs.
"Arghh," he grunts in pain.
I jab my hands harshly at his face and feel for his eyes. When I find them I press firmly with my fingers. My assailant yells in anger before turning me to face him and throwing me to the ground.
"Somebody help me! Ple … ," he pulls my back to him by my leg with a tight grip and covers my mouth as I try to get away.
He flips me onto my back and straddles me. I take my hand and am about to strike his nose with the heel of my palm, only he's already removed a blade from his pocket and slices my exposed collar bone.
"Ahhh!" I cry in agony as blood rolls down my shirt.
He puts his hand over my mouth, stifling my screams, and holds his knife to my throat using his weight to hold my body in place. My heart pounds wildly against my chest as my mind is wracked with terror when I feel my baby moving inside of me for the first time. He uses his knee and shoves my legs apart as his free hand roughly hikes up my skirt. I scratch, push, claw, and whatever else my hands can do as he gropes my bare thighs. I bite the inside of his hand and he releases it from my mouth in pain.
"Get off me!" I scream. "Help!"
I go silent when he punches me in the mouth. I don't feel it but I can taste the blood. "Shut up," he hisses into my ear, drawing his knife above my left eye. "Or I will slice you up, starting with your pretty face."
Blood oozes from the corner of my mouth and he pushes my skirt to my hips. Tears burn in my eyes when his hand glides across my underwear. "Please don't do this. I'm...," I splutter and begin to choke on blood. The man removes the knife from near my face and swiftly plunges it into my arm.
"Ahhh!" I yelp, shrieking in pain.
"I said, shut up!" He growls, ripping the thin fabric that is my underwear from my body.
He's quick in his actions, unzipping his pants and shoving his manhood into me carelessly and painfully. I become numb and everything seems to come to a standstill. Time, the air, my heart - everything except him.
When he is done violating me, he slips out of me and zips himself back up before taking the knife from my arm. "Good girl," he says snidely, brushing his hand against my cheek. He stands, opens my bag, takes the few bucks that I have from my wallet, and bolts around the corner.
I remain frozen on the ground, my skirt still high around my hips, exposing the most private part of my body with my underwear in shreds at my feet. A single tear rolls down my cheek as I lay there, numb and unable to move.
I don't know how long I've been in the revolting alley when I suddenly hear a voice coming closer and closer. My sanity caves when I feel a hand on my shoulder. I shoot up to a sitting position and grab the person, hitting and swinging at them ferociously, tears streaming. My mind doesn't register who it is, but I don't care. Only when I hear them say my name do I open my eyes and become less erratic.
"Katniss! Katniss! Stop, Katniss," the person says as they take hold of my wrists.
I recognize the voice first and only see that it is Johanna when my vision becomes clear. I crumble, my body collapsing against her and I cling to her with a cast iron grip. My body is overcome with sobs as I let out a gut wrenching cry.
Johanna holds me tightly and smooths my hair. "What happened, Katniss?" she questions. "What happened?" She cups my face in her hands and stares into my eyes.
"He…he…r-raped me!" I wail before falling into her bosom.
Johanna takes her cell phone from her pocket and dials 911. "Hello! A woman in her early twenties has been raped." She pauses before continuing. "We're on 12th Avenue. Hurry, she's bleeding!"
She hangs up the call, puts my shoe that she had apparently picked up off the sidewalk onto the ground, and takes off her coat. She stuffs it between my legs to soak up the blood that's running down my thighs before pulling me to her and rocking my body in her arms.
It isn't long before we hear sirens. Johanna lets go of me and rushes to the street. Tires screech to a halt and Johanna returns with four police officers and three paramedics. They roll a gurney through the trash filled alley and stop when they get to me. The police question Johanna as the paramedics lift me onto the gurney. I feel the rapist's fluids slide down the inside of my thigh as the paramedics put a thin sheet over me to cover my body. I feel sick and want to vomit as I think about what has happened to me.
The numbness that once covered my body begins to fade and all I feel is pain. I place protective hands over my small baby bump although it's too late to protect it. I wonder how Peeta will ever want me or our baby after this. How could he want me now that I'm tainted?
The paramedics lift me into the awaiting ambulance and Johanna rushes to my side carrying my bag.
"Can … can you come with me?" I request.
She nods her head as sadness fills her eyes. She climbs into the ambulance with the paramedics and I see a police officer walk past with a plastic bag containing Johanna's soiled coat and another with my underwear before the ambulance door is closed. Johanna holds my hand, "They're going to get the dirty bastard that did this. He's going to pay for what he did to you."
I was already aware through the grapevine at work that Johanna lost her mother at a young age when a man robbed their home and raped her mother while she was forced to watch. Her mother bled to death and Johanna has developed a hard exterior since, but she is sharing what compassion she still has left inside with me. Something I find myself thankful for.
The ride to the hospital seems short, or maybe I just don't notice the journey as the paramedics clean and bandage my wounds. The ambulance stops just as they finish and the driver opens the door. The paramedics take the gurney that I'm on out of the ambulance. When I see that I'm at Capitol General Hospital of Panem I shiver at the mere thought of being here.
"Please, not here. I can't go inside." I say in a panic, "Any hospital but this one. Please?"
Johanna holds my hand firmly, "It has to be this one. It's the closest hospital for miles."
"No!" I shout, groaning as pain shoots up my arm. "My sister works here. She can't know!" Tears fill my eyes, but none fall.
"Katniss, just relax. She won't find out if you don't want her to," Johanna assures.
When I'm wheeled through the emergency room a nurse pulls Johanna aside. I'm quickly taken to a hospital room. Two female nurses lift me onto a hospital bed. They cut off my coat, blouse and skirt to resist further injury. They bag my clothes with gloved hands so it can be used as evidence in an investigation. My hands soon find some comfort on my tiny, almost unnoticeable bump as I begin to feel embarrassment. Johanna enters the room and sits by my side. Her presence puts me at ease.
The doctor soon enters the room. She's a young woman around my age. She has a kind face and a quiet nature as she introduces herself as Doctor Madge Undersee. I listen carefully as she explains the examination procedure. It all seems invasive – too invasive, but nothing more violating than what has already been done.
"Before we begin, I will need to ask you a few questions that will bring back memories of the assault. Just answer them as best you can, okay."
I turn my face from her and stare at the ceiling.
"What's your name?" She tenderly asks. She tries to make eye contact with me, but I refuse to give it. I don't want people to see me like this.
"K-Katniss M-Mellark," I answer with a tremble.
"I have a police report provided by a Johanna Mason. Can you tell me what happened in your own words, Katniss?"
I swallow a lump in my throat just as Johanna speaks up, "Don't you think it's a bit cruel to make her relive the experience when you already have all of the information you need?"
Madge peers at Johanna. "It is necessary to hear the events from Katniss. The statement you gave doesn't cover all that occurred because you were not present." Her gaze returns to me.
I look anywhere but at her as I speak. "I left work at two o'clock. I was walking to the bus when he grabbed me into an alley. I fought back, but he forced me to the ground and cut me when I screamed for help. He then v-v-violated me and my baby before stealing from me and leaving me lying there exposed," I manage to say in a controlled manner. I exhale, letting out the breath I hadn't even realized I was holding.
Madge attempts to keep her face neutral, but when I look at her, I see that her expression has changed. "You're pregnant?"
I blink back tears that threaten to roll down my cheeks and just nod my head in response.
"That obnoxious f***!" Johanna seethes.
"Please refrain from your outbursts, Ms. Mason. This is already a traumatic time for Katniss," she says, keeping her eyes on me.
Johanna sits back in her chair with a huff.
"How far are you in your pregnancy?" Madge asks, writing down all that I say.
I manage to get out "15 weeks," as my mouth becomes dry.
"Okay, Katniss, we need to collect any DNA samples he may have left on you as evidence. If you press charges it will be beneficial in ensuring it's the right person the police are arresting."
I still don't know what to think. All I want to do is forget everything. The nurses stand me up as carefully as possible. Madge takes pictures of my naked body. She adjusts my hair to get a clear shot of my back. She then gets me to stand in a position with my legs open to get clear shots of my legs and private area. I don't bother looking to see what I look like. Instead, I stare off at the blank wall. I swallow hard, knowing that people can look back at the photos and will be able to see what happened. Once I lay back down, she puts on gloves and takes samples of my hair, saliva, skin, and nails. Madge and a nurse carefully hoist my legs into stirrups. She gives me both an external and internal examination and my cheeks burn in shame. She takes a cotton swab and retrieves a sample of semen from my vagina. I squeeze Johanna's hand. The last thing I want to do is think about the violation. It becomes very overwhelming and tears cascade down my cheeks. I bite my lip and nearly draw blood. It's painful, but comforting as I'm in control of this pain.
"There's some tearing caused by the assailant. That is what caused all of the blood. Nothing a few stitches won't fix," she says as she prepares to do just that, fix me although I'll never be completely restored.
She sterilizes and cleans me, then delicately stitches my torn skin. Once her task is complete, I let out a sigh of relief. "The sonographer will see you after you've had a chance to bathe, to check on the baby," she announces before leaving.
The nurses put an adult hospital diaper on me to keep from ripping the stitches then allow me to take a shower, an idea which I jump at. I'm given a towel, wash-cloth, and a set of clothing. It's standard items. White cotton panties, an undershirt, sweatpants, a large sweatshirt. They may not be much, but I long to be in them. Johanna and one of the nurses help me to the bathroom. The nurse turns on the shower and they help me get in.
"I have no desire to invade your privacy further, but if you want me to stay...," Johanna begins.
I shake my head and stare at the shower head. "I'd like to be alone," I say.
She and the nurse leave me to myself and I sit on the cold shower floor, my legs stretched out in front of me. I take the bar of soap and lather it over the wash-cloth before scrubbing and rinsing my whole body except the part that I really want to clean. I repeat this several times. After washing my hair, I take extra care of my abdomen, only to feel immense sadness consume me. A large lump forms in my throat and I find myself gasping for air until my body convulses, harsh sobs shaking my entire frame as the water pours over me.
I pull my knees to my chest and cry into my lap. I don't hear when the door opens, but when I hear "Katniss," I know exactly who is there. I look up and see Peeta turn off the water and step into the shower. He rushes to me and engulfs my body. I cling to him, my hands grasping onto his t-shirt.
"Oh my God, Peeta!" I sob, pulling more material into my tight fists that I have formed. He doesn't loosen his grip on me, holding me close, keeping me safe.
I feel him shake as he cups my face in his hands, gazing at my tattered and naked appearance. "How did you know where I was?"
His face is pale with lines of worry and his eyes puffy and glazed, like he has been crying and might do so again. "Johanna called me." His voice trembles.
"I'm so sorry, Peeta. I tried to protect our baby. I tried," I cry as mucus forms in my nose.
He holds me closer and tells me, "It's okay, baby," he comforts. "It's okay." I nuzzle my face into the crevice of his neck. "I'm here now." He rests his head on top of mine.
Once we finally part, Peeta gets my towel and wraps it around me as he dries my body. He then wraps the towel around my braided hair and squeezes out the water. I shiver as he lifts me into his strong arms and carries me to sit in the chair beside the door. He grabs the clothes from the counter and tentatively pulls the undershirt over my head, being careful not to tamper with my bandages. I wince in pain as I continue to weep and snivel. When he picks up the white cotton underwear, my already broken heart shatters into a million pieces. I feel dirty and it just doesn't feel right when white is so pure and clean, something I'm not.
"No. I have to keep this on," I cry in shame, indicating the adult diaper I was made to wear and shaking my head, "because of my stitches."
Peeta gazes at me with sad eyes. "Okay," he replies, a quiver in his voice.
After he finishes dressing me, he carries me from the bathroom and to the bed. I notice that the soiled sheets have been changed in my absence and replaced with crisp clean sheets. He gently lays me in the bed and lightly moves a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
"Will you lie down with me," I ask.
He slides off his shoes and removes his damp jacket before climbing in behind me. I wrap his arm over my chest as he snuggles close to me. I breathe in his scent and my tears wet his forearm. He plants a tender kiss on my cheek and just holds me as I grieve over what has happened to me and my baby, neither of us wanting to let go of the other. We stay like this, in our own little world until there is a knock on the door. When I look up, I see an auburn-haired woman enter with a cart full of technical equipment.
"Hello, Mrs. Mellark. My name is Annie and I'm here to do your ultrasound," she says with a gentle voice and small smile.
After she sets up her equipment, Peeta climbs out of the bed and holds my hand in his. Once she turns on the monitor, she stands between me and the cart and goes to lift my sweatshirt, but I flinch from her. It feels as though everything I have endured is written all over me. I can see the look of knowing and pity in her eyes, and I don't know how to respond to that. Peeta leans close to me and kisses my forehead.
"I'm going to put this gel," she says, holding it on the tips of her gloved fingers, "on your stomach and use this transducer here that will allow us to see the baby and make sure that he or she is okay," she explains to me.
Having already had my 12 week appointment, I'm fully aware of the process and just nod my head in understanding. I look to Peeta who gives me a sorrowful smile, gripping my hand in both of his. His face looks so young and innocent - yet so terrified. I suppose I'm terrified too, but I can't seem to feel any emotions whatsoever. I look from Peeta back to Annie.
She slowly lifts back my sweatshirt and undershirt before tenderly smoothing the gel over my belly. I look down at my stomach and see my skin above my pelvis has bruised and is slightly discolored, another ugly reminder. I don't want Peeta to see this. I don't want him to see what that vile man did to our baby.
"Don't look," I say in fear, "Please," I beg.
Peeta looks at me with despondent, tear filled eyes. The tears just sit at the brim of his eyelids, refusing to fall. He brings my hand to his lips and places a gentle kiss on it. "I love you," he says, "so much." He presses his face into my shoulder and I rest my head on top of his. I don't want to look either.
Annie puts the transducer on my stomach and moves it around my belly, searching for the baby. I don't watch, but I can hear the transducer click as she presses a button. She holds it still and puts slight pressure into my skin. I soon hear a beautiful, steady beat fill the room. Peeta and I look at the monitor screen at the same time. I see the clear fluttering of our small, strong baby. My chest heaves and I release a cry of joy as tears roll down my cheeks.
"Our baby is okay. It's okay," Peeta says, a single tear flowing from his eye as he alternates between looking at the screen and at me. He lovingly kisses my forehead.
I just gaze at my baby. I don't know how long it will take for my physical and emotional wounds to heal, but I don't even care. Knowing that my baby is safe and well, in a serene way, I feel as though nothing else matters.