a/n: Thank you all for the wonderful comments. Motivation 101. (: Here's Chapter Four. Happy Mother's Day incase you're a mommy, a mommy to be, or…a daughter/son.

Chapter Four: Clarifying

At the table, everyone stares at me. Except Peeta. He adverts his eyes, chewing slowly on his eggs, almost thoughtfully. I eat everything on my plate, and push my chair away from the table. I stand and leave, without excusing myself. I know the way Effie likes things-proper, but I'm sick of the silence. Haymitch, surprisingly isn't wasted. He's completely sober, and tries some times to stir up a conversation.

"So, the tables…mahogany, Effie says." I think Effie's put him up to being sober. They'd both heard my screaming session last night.

I go to my room and sit down on the bed. I stroke my stomach. I hope he or she comes out soon. I don't want induced labor, as Effie says. And I really don't want this child kicking every time he or she hears my voice, or especially Peeta's.

I pace.

After that, I sit again and stroke the belly.

I pace once more.

And stroke.

The Hunger Games are in exactly three weeks. I have a week to give birth, or Effie's going to call a doctor to induce labor. Then we have two weeks to train. We have two weeks to make allies if we choose too. I never understood the point of an ally.

This is how I always saw it:

"Hey! Wanna be allies?"

"Sure!"

"Ok!"

*Later in the arena*

"Well, looks like you're gonna have to die now!"

"Whaa-"

That's just me. You kill your new friend about a week into the Games. It's stupid. Allies shouldn't even be allowed. It's not fair. You kill someone you grow to care about. It gives more of an interest to Panem though. Stabbings in the middle of the night, and betrayal. God Forbid, there would be no drama in the arena.

As I think more about my shortened life, I hear a knock at the door.

And a small voice rings out, "It's Peeta."

I walk slowly to the door, taking my time. I crack it open and look at him. His hair is a mess and his eyes wear unfashionable bags under them. Effie didn't approve whenever he woke up and gave him a tube of cream.

I let him in, he's obviously freaked.

"Hi." I say, my voice cracking on that one word.

He walks in and sits on a chair. I sit on the bed and look at him. The baby kicks-hard and I wince. Peeta notices.

"Are you okay?" He asks, getting ready to pounce.

"Yeah." I mutter.

"So…"

I don't respond and focus on his blue eyes.

Peeta clears his throat, "I'm a father."

I nod. The words are strange coming from him. Another kick.

"When?"

I unclench my jaw and start, "The punch at that school party was spiked. And we got drunk. And we had sex," and I whisper slowly, "we reproduced."

He sighs and rubs his temple, "What are we going to do?"

"What do you mean we? One of us has to come home and I don't want it to be me."

Peeta's jaw clenches, "Well, I don't want a baby without a mother."

"You said you wanted a baby."

"Not without it's mother," he's getting angry, but I don't care-I'm getting to a point of bubbling too, "I want the full experience."

"Well, I don't." I corner. Another kick.

"Look, Katniss, this isn't fair-I agree. But I don't want to take this experience away from you. That child needs you. And I'll get to hold him or her before I die in the arena. And maybe this year, District Twelve will have a victor. You."

A sharp kick courses through my body and I shiver.

I stand up and I can't take it anymore, "I don't want this baby, Peeta! How many times do I have to tell you I don't want this baby!" I scream at the top of my lungs and a hard kick comes from the baby and a gush of water soon follows.

a/n: o-m-g. Well, he caught on. Anyways. (: Happy weekend, riggght? Sorry for this short chapter. Butt, tell me what chu think. Oh, and the mahogany? Like the reference? Next one will be long…maybeee… –xo. Lu5mu6 (new signoff name) (;