We arrive at my mother's house without too many difficulties; besides Peeta having to stop every few minutes, because of the pain surging through his leg. I walk him over to a burgundy couch and command him to take a seat, he promptly complies.
My mother then walks into the room and greets him, "Hello Peeta, long time no see. How are you feeling?"
"Hello, Mrs. Everdeen. So far I have been pretty good, how are you doing today?" I can see my mom almost melt at the pure form of politeness coming from his voice. That's one thing Gale was never very good at, talking respectfully.
"I am doing just fine, thank you. Now lets take a look at the leg, shall we?" Peeta nods his head and tentatively lifts the button of his jeans over his left shin.
My mother and I both audibly gasp at the sight, which causes Peeta's face to turn slightly pink.
"I don't think it's too bad " He says, unsurely.
Not to bad? I think to myself.
His left shin is completely reddened with a copious amount of angry blisters.
"Oh, Peeta!" My mom exclaims, "How could you wait all day to get this treated?"
He nervously bites his lower lip and says, "Well, you know, I had a lot of work that needed to be taken care of first. But don't worry, I did have the time to run a little bit of cold water over it."
"Peeta," I say with a thick sound of concern, "If I had known it was this bad, I would have forced you to come with me this morning."
Before Peeta can protest, my mother elevated his leg onto our coffee table, and began to treat it. She mixed up a bowl full of various herbs and liquids - which then she plastered onto his burn. Almost instantly, a small, rapid sigh is released from Peeta's mouth.
I watch him with disbelief. Disbelief that he prioritized his baking duties over his own health. Seeing him accept the pain so willingly, strikes a nerve within me. It's not because I'm jealous that he is such a great human being, it is because I notice something that we have in common.
We are both willing to go through pain, without complaining, if it means less drama in our lives. When Gale hurts me, I don't fight back too much, because it would just make things more complicated. I can see that now, when I see Peeta.
"This injury will most likely leave a scar on your body," my mom warns him. He just simply smiles and lets out a light laugh.
"I don't mind. For a baker, it's almost like a badge of honor," he jokes.
I can tell that my mom appreciates this. Most of the time, her patients are in an erratic state. Peeta must be a breath of fresh, amenable air.
Over the next two weeks, Peeta and I start to hang out together. It was nice. He really was the sweetest, most sensitive boy to ever live in District Twelve. Not once, did he ever act like a stereo typical merchant snob - if anything, he acted, and thought about himself, in the complete opposite way. He has a very self-deprecating humour about him, that I love and dislike. I love it because he's not an ego-maniac, but dislike it because I don't like it when he puts himself down.
One morning, we met up together at our new favourite hangout spot. It was in this beautiful field of wild flowers, just outside the fence. I have been beyond the surrounding fence many of times, but I had never been outside the fence that was on the opposite side of the Seam. I convinced Peeta to go exploring in the woods with me. In the beginning he was slightly nervous, I knew he had never been on the other side of the fence before.
But after exploring the new side of the woods, we came across this small clearing. It was covered in flowers and the greenest grass I have ever seen. Now, every other morning (when he has the mornings off), Peeta and I share a sunrise with a hot cup of coffee.
We just sit next to each other, in a relaxed silence - just enjoying the different shades of yellows and oranges streak across the sky.
After a few minutes of silence, Peeta breaks it, "I wish I could freeze this moment, right here, right now and live in it forever," he says softly, "I mean, I don't remember the last time I was ever this… Peaceful."
I nod my head in agreement. I then lay my head down, against the grass, raise my mug of coffee towards Peeta, "To our sun rises together, may we always find peace."
He turns his body towards my general direction, and then clinks his mug against mine, repeating, "Always."
"KATNISS! Fuck! Katniss get the fuck down here!"
I almost literally leap out of my skin. I am momentarily frozen by Gale's sudden outburst. We had just finished eating dinner, and I went upstairs to get ready for bed.
Whatever that just happened… Is really bad.
I rush down the stairs, now overly worried with what is wrong with Gale. As soon as I enter the living room, I automatically regret coming down. His face only reads pure fury.
He glares daggers at me, "Katniss, I just got of the phone with my friend Isacar. Do you know what Isacar just told me?" He asks dangerously.
"No, what did he say?" I am confused and scared to find out.
"Isacar called me to mention to me about a couple certain people," He says while examining me closely.
"Ok… Is something wrong?"
"Yes, actually something is very much so wrong! He told me that he has seen you several times with the youngest frosting princess!" He bellows out accusingly. My face pales.
"I… I can explain that," I carefully counter.
"Ok then. PLEASE FUCKING EXPLAIN! Because to me, it sounds like you're having an AFFAIR behind my back!"
"Gale, I'm not having an affair. Peeta is just a very good friend of mine!" I almost yell.
I never did anything with him that should betray Gale's trust in me. Yet, I have found myself several times wondering what it would have been like if we ended up together instead. Maybe that's why I can feel the anger and defensiveness build up in me, possibly the way I feel about Peeta might be changing.
"Don't give me that 'just friends' bull shit! Both you and me already know, that you are sneaking around right behind my back!" He exploded. The back of his hand also exploded on my face.
I find myself falling to the ground, hard. I quickly move my hand to my nose, and I can feel the blood now pour out of it.
"I have had enough of your defiant ways! I am the ONLY man you're allowed to have in your life. Well besides your father, and he's DEAD!" I now feel a current of fury course through my body at Gales cheap, jibe.
"Shut up! Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!" I astonish myself when I hear the malice in my voice. It's been years since I have ever truly challenged Gale. "You have NO right. You have no right to talk about my father," I admonished him.
"You don't get to order me around!" He sends a fleeting, powerful kick upon my crouching form. I cry out loudly from the pain, positive he broke several ribs.
At this point in time, there is no doubt that our neighbours can hear everything, but they won't do anything. Domestic abuse is very common and accepted here, in the Seam. Husbands come home from their shitty jobs, take their frustrations out on their wives; unfortunately, wives will then take their hapless lives out on their children. The children will then grow up miserable and the entire cycle will start all over again.
I suppose I shouldn't say that domestic violence is unshared to the Seam. I remember days when some of the merchant children, Peeta in particular, would have bruises covering their bodies. Domestic abuse is rampant in District Twelve.
I collect myself from the kick, and sit my back against a nearby wall. I look up just in time to see Gale coming at me again, this time I plunge my palm into his nose. This makes him curse without abandon, as he holds his nose. The pain is easily read on his face.
Good. I hope it's broken.
He quickly retaliates by grabbing my hair and pushing my face down, on the floor.
"Bitch, I'm going to make sure you regret that… Fucking cunt," He spits at me while he tears the back of my shirt open.
I can't see what he's doing, but then I suddenly feel it. I begin to thrash uncontrollably, which only makes the pain worse, as I feel my skin being severed by a knife.
"S-stop!" I half choked, half screamed.
"No. You need to be reminded who's in charge. Every time you fantasize about disobeying me, you just remind yourself about these scars. You should actually thank me, it'll keep you in line," he self-righteously told me.
Pools of hot tears began to collect between the floor and my face. Gale kept slashing away randomly at my back. My mind is in a frenzy, almost overcome by pain. I tried to get up, but he would just press my face harder into the cool, wood floor. I can feel my clothing become laden with wetness, wetness from the blood that flows from me.
Finally, he seemed to have finished. He got off my back and whispered, "Sweet dreams, my love." That's when I felt him lift my head up, and then slam it back into the ground.
Blackness encircles me.
BANG BANG BANG
I am aroused from my sleep by a thudding against my front door. I stand up, too quickly, and I instantly regret it. For a moment, I wonder why my back is singing with pain - unfortunately I remember all too soon.
I can't believe he went that far. I honestly think. Yes, Gale has crossed the line many times, but he has never used a knife before. I really don't know what to do. What has happened to me? Where did my confidence go?
BANG BANG BANG
My head snaps up in the direction of the door, now remembering what woke me up.
"Yes?" I call loud enough for the person outside to hear.
"Katniss?" Shit. "You didn't make it to the clearing. I came here to make sure you were ok," I hear Peeta announce from the other side of the door.
I completely forgot that I made plans to meet up with him today. Well, I guess that's not really the thing I think about as I bleed out on the floor.
Lie. Lie. Lie. Think of a lie!
If Peeta finds out about what happened last night, he would surely become upset. Ok, well more than upset. He would go ballistic over this.
"Oh! Sorry Peeta," I force my voice to sound hoarse, which isn't that hard. "I woke up sick this morning… and I couldn't make it out," I make sure I include a cough or two.
Saying I'm sick really isn't that far of a stretch. I feel terrible. Aside from my back, I am sleep deprived, malnourished, and have a splitting head ache.
"Can I come in?" He asks all too innocently.
Think. Think. Think.
"Ok, just let me clean up for a quick second," I let him know.
Once I hear him say "sure," I quickly walk upstairs to get changed. I only had to clean a small spot of blood, because Gale, always the gentleman, already cleaned up most of it. I make it into my room, I rip the clothes from my dresser, and then I throw them onto my body. I then go into the bathroom to check my reflection in the mirror, making sure I appear to be recently inured to disease. I really do look sick. I begin to believe that all the blood loss is the cause for that.
When I'm satisfied with my appearance, I semi-hobble back down the stairs. I take a deep breath, as I approach the door.
Just act normal. Just act sick.
I place my hand on the door, You Can't Turn Back Now, and slowly turn the knob. When the door is fully open, I look up at Peeta - he has a moderately concerned expression adorned on his face.
"Hi," he says mutely. "How are you feeling?"
"Hey, Peeta. It's a funny story…" I mentally kick myself for my word choice. "When I woke up today, I felt absolutely terrible." That's definitely not a lie. "I think I must have caught a cold or something."
I am relieved when Peeta buys my story and says, "Oh Katniss… Do you want me to make you some tea? You know what? I think I have some fever medicine at home. Let me go get it."
Before Peeta can turn around, I grab him by the arm. "I don't think I'm sick enough for medicine, tea would be lovely, though."
I am actually surprised to find out that he has fever medicine. If I remember what my mom said correctly, that type of medicine isn't too cheap. There is no way I can let him give me some, for my fake illness. Although, I have heard, the pills do help relieve pain.
"Ok, sure," Peeta said with a hint of a smile. He took my hand off his arm, and walked outside before I could say anything. A few seconds later, he strolled back in with two paper, coffee cups in his hands. "I figured, when you didn't show up, that you weren't feeling to good. Here, I bought you some lemon ginger tea. The barista told me it's supposed to be soothing," and with that he handed me one of the piping hot cups - I gratefully accept his offer.
Right then and there, I feel a slight pricking and stinging sensation behind my eyelids.
Ugh, Peeta is such a nice, caring kid. Don't you dare cry in front of him.
I must have been making a strange face, because he then asks me, "Is your sickness getting worse?" His clear blue eyes are welled up with concern.
I take a deep breath and shake my head, "No, I'm fine. Thanks. And thank you so much for the tea," I don't think he realizes just how touched I am. I drink some of the tea, it tastes amazing. Then I realize, it's because there is honey in the tea. Honey is not cheap by any means, this makes me feel guilty. "Wait here, let me reimburse you."
Now it's his turn to gently grab my arm, before I can leave to find my wallet. "Katniss, I wouldn't have bought it for you, if I expected you to pay for it. So please, let me be selfish this one time, and pay for it," why does this boy have to be so amiable all the time?
"But Peeta… At least allow me to make this up to you. I can -" Before I could complain anymore, he quieted me by placing a finger to my lips.
"Don't worry about it. Please? And plus, you're sick. You should be thinking about yourself right now. I'm worried about you, you know? You look three shades lighter than your natural skin tone, and that scares me," the anxious quality in his voice and expression, makes him appear much younger. In this moment, he looks so naïve and vulnerable.
All I want to do, now, is hug him, tell him that everything is going to be ok - I want to find out what is haunting him, and chase away the monsters from under his bed. I see a scared boy. But at the same time, I know that this boy can turn into a man, instantly, if something precious to him is threatened.
I wonder what he would do if he found out about Gale. I stop myself there, because he can never find out. I don't know how I could handle it, if he actually did know.
"Don't worry about me. I wasn't feeling good last night, so I skipped dinner… and well breakfast for that matter. Now I guess my skin coloration is paying for that," I tried to keep my voice as level as possible.
Again, Peeta buys what I said, without question. "Being sick, and starving yourself… Isn't probably the best combination in the world. Though, I can understand not wanting to eat. Nothing worse then throwing up." I can't help but think about how cute he looks when he pretends to shudder.
"Yes, that is the very worst. I have to agree with you," I playfully say, thankful that he can easily lighten the mood.
Now, if I was just a few years older…. and not with Gale.. I try to stop my thoughts, but after two years of being with someone that doesn't have a nurturing side, being around the always tenderhearted Peeta does have a strong appeal. Maybe Gale was right, in a way. Not about me cheating… Physically, but maybe I am cheating on him mentally. I never thought about it until now, but now that I have, I'm not as distraught as I probably should be.
"Tell you what," Peeta says, snapping me out of my thoughts, "I know this one recipe that I usually make, when someone in my family gets sick. It's quite miraculous, actually, I swear it won't upset your stomach. I'll make it for you." He finishes with a scent of pride in his voice.
"You cook?" I ask him, pleasantly surprised.
Peeta gives me an adorable grin and answers, "Absolutely, I do."
I smile at the sureness in his voice.
"What? You don't really assume that my mother would actually cook, do you? Heavens no! When I was around five, she told me, 'son, Mrs. Henther is going to give you cooking lessons. From now on, I expect you to make meals for your brothers. Don't mess this up.' It was one of my more terrifying experiences. I remember every time I screwed up and wasted ingredients, I'd earn a good smack. At that time, I hadn't started working at the bakery yet, so she had to find something I could be useful at."
"That does sound terrifying," I jokingly agree with him.
"Oh it was beyond traumatizing. You have no idea," he says overly dramatic, but I can also hear a small twinge of seriousness.
"Does somebody need a hug?" I tease.
"Absolutely, I do." He says again.
I beamed at him and walked towards him with my arms open. He took two steps in my direction, and then engulfed me in his arms. He then leaned down and smooched his face into my shoulder, and made faux whimpering noises. Playing along with the facade, I patted his back and murmured "there, there. It'll be aright."
I'm not sure if I'm saying it to him as a joke, or if I'm more saying it to myself. I can't help but recall the incident from last night. WIth the recent memory now stuck in my head, I embrace Peeta with a new found yearning for security. The hug that started out as a joke, has now turned into much more for me.
I wonder if Peeta can tell?
Peeta has great intuition when it comes to moments like these, but I doubt he'll mention anything without me talking first. That's just who he is. It's not until he squeezes me tighter on my shoulders that I realize a few tears have taken flight from my eyes and fallen onto his neck.
"Katniss?" He breathes into my hair, "Are you in pain?"
Sometimes I hate his intuitiveness.
When I don't say anything, he pulls away from our hug, but keeps his hands on my shoulders. He looks me in the eyes and gently asks, "Why are you crying?"
I avoid his gaze and just shake my head.
"You can tell me anything. You know that right? I won't say anything to anyone," his eyes then look upward, he does that when he's deep in thought. He looks back at me and with a serious voice, says, "Did Gale do something?"
I'm not too shocked that he asked this question. In the recent past, I have complained about him to Peeta. He knows that we are in a rough patch in our relationship, he just doesn't know how bad it is. For the past two-three weeks, Peeta has been my go-to guy for venting all my frustrations about Gale. He actually gives great advice; unfortunately, I can't use any of it, because Peeta doesn't know Gale's abusive. I'm sure if he knew, then his advice would be perfect for me. But I just can't tell him. I don't want to bring him into any of this.
"Last night, Gale and I had a pretty big fight," I say honestly, "I haven't seen him since our fight. Peeta you don't understand, the anger and rage in his eyes… was almost unbearable to look at."
"Oh, Katniss…" Peeta mumbles apologetically. "If I had a girlfriend that was so sick she refused food, the last thing I would do is get in a fight with her."
"What would you do?" I meekly question. I can almost feel a small, sad smile prick at the corners of my lips - I know he's trying to cheer me up.
"Hmm… Well first of all," he walks behind me, places his hands on the back of my shoulders, and attentively leads me to the stairs. "I would make sure she's comfortable in bed, you know, not overexerting herself."
He walks me up the stairs and then into my room. Once inside, he carefully pushes me onto my bed, and then he pulls a blanket over my arms. "Once she's resting in bed, I would make sure she had a nice cup of hot tea; however, I already got that part covered," he said, while motioning towards my tea that he placed on my night stand.
"You're already one step ahead of yourself… You overachiever," I am now trying my hardest to focus on Peeta and forget about what happened with Gale.
"Yes, I know. After the tea, I'd go downstairs and make her some fantastic tasting soup, that she can actually eat without worry of it coming back up. But then, I'd remember that the kitchen doesn't currently stock the ingredients for this amazing soup, so I'd go into town and buy them." I was so caught up in listening to the sound of his melodic voice, that I just understood what he was implying.
"I can't ask you to do that. I can't make you make me a soup, much less buy the ingredients for it." I try to tell him, but he's already making his way to the door.
"Too little, too late, Katniss! You see, you're not allowed to leave that bed until you feel better… So you really can't stop me. And plus, this is a special soup. It can heal your stomach and whatever is going on with Gale," he tells me over his shoulder. "Bye, I'll see you in about forty-five minutes, hopefully."
I hear his footsteps on the stairs as he trudges downwards, then I hear the door open and close.
I release a sharp breath and hold my head in my hands.
Peeta Mellark, why do you do this to me?