A/N: Ahh! I really wanted to get this up sooner but real life has just been getting in the way lol. The good news is that things will finally start to slow down for me and hopefully you guys won't have to wait as long in between updates. Anyways, just wanted to say that I've been SO blown away by the follows/favs/reviews...you're all awesome and you totally motivate me to write! For those wondering - Saint Peeta Part Two will most likely be posted on Thursday this week so keep an eye out for it! ;)
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Thanks as always to my lovely betas Court81981 and WickedlyClever. This story wouldn't be the same without you guys!
When I hang up the phone it takes me a while to process everything I just heard.
I've just finished speaking with a social worker by the name of Haymitch Abernathy. I've dealt with social workers before, especially since grief counseling is often times court ordered for certain people in the group, but this conversation was definitely different. Technically Katniss isn't his responsibility, her younger sister Prim is, but he still went out of his way to contact me.
He told me about how he is helping Katniss to hopefully be named Prim's legal guardian and he explained about how her younger sister is off living with a distant family relative because both their mother and father have passed. It was hard for me to concentrate after that, my stomach contracting uncomfortably, feeling the pain in such a more direct way than I'm used to. I hear about the horrible details, the excruciating specific accounts of how members of the group have lost their loved ones all the time, but I can't seem to remember any of their stories affecting me as much as this.
When I look into Katniss' steely grey eyes, when I see the pain and sadness, when I see the way she seems resigned to live in despair and how she says things like 'I'm a lost cause', like she did the other night when I drove her home, I'm overcome by this need to help her. I'm overcome with this need to tell her it doesn't have to be like that, to get her to look into my eyes so I can promise her that it will get better, that it does get better.
This desire, this desperation, to want to see her heal and move forward more than anyone I've ever worked with before, leaves me feeling the physical effects of knowing the pain she has been through, and the pain she is currently enduring, in a very real way.
I feel like now I know the kind of person Katniss is. She is strong enough to survive losing both her parents. She is only concerned about making sure her little sister is always taken care of, even if it means dragging herself to grief counseling sessions that she hates three times a week. And she is also the type of person to shut down and turn away from the world around her because she has already suffered so much.
I'm having a hard time focusing before the session starts, so many thoughts running through my mind. I make the usual small talk at the refreshment table as people slowly filter into the Church basement. My eyes keep flicking towards the door though, hoping to catch sight of that olive skin and long dark braid. I can barely keep a conversation with Thom, not really listening as he tells me about a great casserole recipe he found the other day.
When I see her come into the room at 4:55pm her eyes immediately find my own before she looks away, darting over to the opposite corner of the room. I excuse myself from the conversation with Thom and immediately make my way towards her. She is standing alone in the corner, her eyes glued to the cell phone in her hand. She always does that when she gets here before the session starts, she pretends to look preoccupied so she doesn't have to talk to anyone.
"Hey," I say softly as I approach her.
She looks up at me, startled that I've actually come over to speak with her.
"How are you?" I ask tentatively, deciding to take it slow.
She shrugs, still eyeing me warily. "Um okay, I guess..." she trails off. "Look, about the other night...I might have been a little drunk and if I said something that was...out of line or rude or whatever...I'm sorry."
"Not at all," I assure her because it's true. If anything she was just being honest with me and I'm glad. I finally got a chance to hear what she was actually thinking for once.
"I just..." I hesitate, not sure how to say this without freaking her out or coming on too strong. "I really hope you're not resigned to this 'lost cause' business because I don't think that's true."
She looks back at me, her eyes searching my face. I can't read her expression but it's intense and my heart starts hammering in my chest. The way she is looking at me makes me feel a warm, curious stirring in my chest, a kind of emotion that is completely foreign, as well as equal parts thrilling and terrifying. I'm trapped under her powerful stare and I couldn't look away even if I wanted to.
After a good long while she finally speaks up.
"Thanks for the ride home the other night, Peeta," she says, and then moves past me and walks towards the familiar circle of chairs set up in the middle of the room, taking her seat.
I'm left standing there at a complete loss, unsure of what to do. Finally, I pull myself together and try and shake off the interaction, knowing I need to focus on getting the session started.
I walk back to my chair and take a seat, waiting for everyone to join me before speaking. I begin the session like usual, inviting those that feel they need or want to share to speak up.
It's the usual crowd that talks like always and everyone in the group goes back and forth for a little while, commenting on certain people's situations, sharing how they've dealt with similar issues, giving examples of what has worked for them in the past.
Annie, who is starting to speak almost regularly during these sessions, shines like a beacon of hope for the quiet, reserved members of the group. From someone who could barely force herself to mumble about the pain of her past, losing her brother and dealing with an abusive mother, a few weeks ago, to someone who speaks now with conviction and without hesitation pretty frequently. She is still quiet, and I think that's just her personality, but she is more open about sharing the hardest details about her past because I think she's come to accept that this really is the safest environment to do it, that everyone in this room has been through similar struggles.
"With my brother it always felt like he was this huge burden of responsibility on my shoulders," she says, crossing her legs and fidgeting with her hands in her lap. "I mean, obviously I loved him and I wanted to take care of him, but at the same time I felt like he was becoming my whole life, his problems became mine; my mood, my health, my happiness all started to depend on how he was doing. And with someone who was as mentally ill as he was it wasn't a good thing, it dragged me down until it almost tore me apart."
She takes a deep shuddering breath before she continues. "So I guess in a way there was almost a little relief when he died, like this anchor that had been weighing me down was gone. And of course even thinking that makes you feel horrible, makes you feel like the worst person in the world. But it's the truth no matter how awful it may seem and I think I have kind of come to realize that it was normal for me to feel like that."
I don't respond immediately because truthfully I'm still a little bit in awe at how far this girl has come. It makes me feel good, it makes me remember why I picked this career, it makes me happy to see someone working through their pain and trying to get better. It also gives me hope that even the most quiet, reserved people can open up and heal.
My eyes immediately flicker over to Katniss as that last thought crosses my mind.
Before I can speak up someone who I never would have predicted beats me to it.
"I lost my sister," I turn and whip my head to see Johanna speaking, sitting directly across from Annie. She is stone faced but her jaw is clenched tightly together and I think I see tears pooling in her eyes. She looks determined not to cry and her voice is hoarse as she struggles to get the words out.
"Well, not technically. She's on life support. Brain damage from the car accident. It was a drunk driver." Her words come out in short, choppy little breaths and I know this is probably the hardest thing in the world for her to do. "I haven't pulled the plug yet, but I know exactly what you mean about feeling relieved about them being gone. Because whenever I think of letting her go I think about the relief I would feel and I hate myself for it. I feel so fucking guilty about feeling that way but at the same time I'm selfish and lonely and I don't want to do it because she's the only person left in my family."
She pauses and makes a kind of choking sound, gasping for air. She stares down at her lap as she tries to compose herself and the entire room is dead silent. Finally, she looks back up, her lips trembling, a stray tear having made it's way down her cheek.
Annie returns her gaze across the room, looking at her with warmth and compassion. She smiles gently at her. "I honestly think it's the most normal thing in the world to feel that way. And you can't beat yourself up over it." Johanna looks back at her in a bit of a daze, finally nodding in response. "Believe me, I felt everything you're feeling for so long. It took me a while to finally realize it, but when I did it was so much easier to let go and move on."
Johanna doesn't say anything else for the rest of the session, still looking like she is processing the little interaction she had with Annie. Other people continue to share and it starts to near the end of the hour. I'm feeling so encouraged by both Annie and Johanna's progress today that I feel that familiar urge to go out of my way and help the other girl that is always so quiet and shy.
I glance over at Katniss, noticing the almost troubled look in her eyes. I decide to try and get through to her by using a different approach, something I never usually do.
"I thought maybe I could end today's session by sharing about myself," I say during a break in the conversation. I look over at Katniss and deliberately catch her eye before continuing. "I lost two people really close to me, people who I grew up with, who I loved with my whole heart. My older brothers died when I was really young and..." I pause, realizing that talking about it still hurts, that no matter how long it has been when I think back to that awful time in my life, something inside me shuts down.
"And...the way they died wasn't fair...it was awful...horrific really." I swallow the lump in my throat, fighting off the emotion. "I guess I just wanted to say that after all these years I've learned that a huge part of the grieving process is accepting that it will never really go away, it never stops hurting. You'll never reach a point where you don't miss them. And that may sound depressing and pessimistic, but it's just the truth." I pause, trying to quiet the storm raging inside me.
"And I think understanding this is what allows you to move on. It allows you to try and heal because you're not afraid anymore of undertaking this huge, impossible task of 'getting over it' or 'being okay' with what happened. Once you realize that you won't be, once you realize that you won't be, but that it's okay, then moving forward isn't as scary. Once you realize you might not be perfectly put back together again, but you can still be whole and happy one day, then I think you'll want to try a lot harder to heal and get better."
I finish and take a deep breath, my words having come out rushed and in one long exhale. I swallow thickly, realizing I've never really opened up that much about my personal life with this group before. Apparently there's something about Katniss that can get me to do things I never expected though. I glance across the circle to look at her. She is staring at me with something resembling amazement. I'm sure she didn't expect me to share my life story today. She almost looks taken aback, like what I just did and said has completely thrown her for a loop.
I open my mouth to say something, but the familiar Church bells start ringing loudly in the distance, indicating that the hour is up and the session is over. I dismiss the group and say quick goodbyes to everyone. I know I should stay and talk to whoever wants to speak with me, but the truth is there is only one person I really want to speak with, one person that I need to speak with.
I see her dark hair whip out of the room and I excuse myself quickly so I can follow her. I take the stairs leading from the basement two at a time until I come out in the Church lobby and then head out into the parking lot.
I stop on the steps of the Church, scanning the relatively small parking lot for her. I spot her a few aisles away, practically speed walking to her car.
I start to lightly jog towards her, trying to catch up. "Katniss!" I yell, but she doesn't slow down. "Katniss, wait!"
Finally I reach her, slowing my pace as I fall in line next to her. "Katniss, can you just wait a minute?" I demand, finally reaching out and grabbing her forearm. When I grab her arm I pull her towards me and she instantly comes to a stop.
But I lose all train of thought as the feeling of her skin under my hand instantly ignites something in me that is impossible to ignore. The feeling causes a tightening in my chest and a strange tingling sensation that begins in my fingertips and shoots through my entire body. I have never felt anything remotely like this before, I've never been so affected by a simple touch.
She freezes, but she doesn't pull away. In fact, she closes her eyes and the way her breathing starts to speed up makes me almost certain that she can feel it too. Mere inches separate our bodies as I gaze down at her, my hand still clasping tightly to her forearm.
The electricity is still there but as I look down at her face, her plump lips and olive skin, I can feel a more familiar sensation stirring in my groin, my pants suddenly getting tighter. I try my best to shake it off and clear my head.
"Why won't you let me help you?" I plead with her, now feeling more desperate than ever not to let this girl continue to suffer, to help her if it's the last thing I do.
She hesitates for a moment, finally opening her eyes and looking up at me.
Then she pulls her arm free from my grasp and takes a step back.
"Because you can't" she responds simply and then turns and flees, scurrying off to her car before I can stop her.
"Can we just order? I'm starving."
I lower my menu and look across the booth at Finnick. His head is in his hands as he groans in displeasure. To say Finnick can become irritable and whiny when he's hungry is a bit of an understatement.
"Calm down, she just walked in," I inform him as I catch sight of Delly heading towards our table over his shoulder.
"Hey losers, what's up?" She greets us both cheerfully, sliding into the booth next to Finnick.
"I'm fucking starving, that's what's up," Finnick grumbles back at her.
"Don't get your panties in a bunch, Odair," she chides him. "Oh, I really want a burger," she adds, inspecting the menu.
We order and when our food comes we all dig in and Finnick's mood drastically improves. In the middle of our meal and in the middle of our conversation I can't help thinking what an odd trio we make. I never would have expected these two to become my closest friends after college, basically the only people I keep in contact with anymore. We all work well together though, our different personalities all balancing each other out. It feels like the most natural thing in the world now. I'm thankful for Finnick's unpredictability and Delly's innate goodness, because it keeps me sane, it's something I've come to rely on.
Finnick takes the last bite of his hamburger and crumples up his napkin. He throws it on his plate and then pushes it away from him and leans back with a satisfied moan.
"Better?" I ask him, amused at the sleepy, content look on his face that has replaced the irritable one from earlier.
He nods enthusiastically.
He takes a sip of his soda and then turns his attention to Delly. "So, Delly, how's work?"
She immediately quirks her eyebrow at him, eyeing him suspiciously. I don't really blame her. Finnick doesn't usually go around asking questions about people's days so something is definitely up.
"What do you want?" She asks him bluntly.
He pretends to look affronted by her response. "Jeez, can't I just ask how your day was?"
She just continues looking at him skeptically and it doesn't take long before he cracks. "Okay fine," he relents. "I wanted to know if you'd be so kind as to get me the number for one of your co-workers, a particularly pretty brunette who you brought to the bar the other week." He eyes her hopefully, already knowing how she may respond to his request.
Delly stares back at him disbelievingly for a long moment. Finally, she snaps out of her daze and shakes her head, laughing a little despite herself.
"No way, Finn," she returns easily.
"What? Come on! Why?" Finnick returns in protest.
"Because I'm not helping you to try and get into my friend's panties. Annie is really nice and sweet, and she doesn't need to be another one of your conquests." Delly explains simply.
"I'm not trying to just get into her panties!" Finnick responds, face flushed. He looks worked up, almost like he's genuinely upset at the idea that she's assuming that about him, despite it being a pretty fair guess based on his history. "I'm not, okay?"
Delly eyes him carefully for a while, inspecting the slightly perturbed look on his face. He looks different than his normal, calm and confident self, he looks unsure and nervous. The thought throws me, makes me realize something really must be up.
"Oh my god, you like her," Delly whispers and Finn snaps his head up to meet her eyes. "You like actually really like her. Like you have a freaking crush on her!" Delly says joyfully. I can only watch as Finnick blushes a deep red and stares at the table.
"So are you going to give me her number or what?" Finnick finally asks, ignoring her earlier comments.
"No," Delly responds and his face falls. "But I will bring her around to hang out with us again. It can be the four of us like last time so there's less pressure that way. I know you're new to this whole dating game Finn, so I'll make it as easy as possible for you."
Delly smiles at him, shoving him in the arm good-naturedly. Finn finally cracks a smile and seems relieved to have that out of the way.
"I never thought I'd see the day where Finnick Odair didn't want to just hit it and quit it," Delly says, turning to face me. I crack a smile at her teasing. "We're going to have to walk you through the ways of courting a girl Finn," she adds, "you're going to have to take a much more subtle approach with Annie than you would with your normal girl at the bar who ends up in your bed."
Finnick shrugs and takes another sip of his drink. "Never thought I'd see the day where you two would have something to teach me."
Delly gapes at him in mock anger, shoving him in the arm again. Finnick just laughs and throws his arm over her shoulder. "Thanks Cartwright, I owe you."
I'm broken from their little bonding moment when my cell phone starts ringing. I'm about to just ignore the call when I realize the number calling is the hospital. My heart starts pounding heavily in my chest as I pick up, listening to the quiet professional tone on the other end in a daze.
I look across the booth and find Delly and Finnick watching me apprehensively, concern etched into their features. I respond with a few simple 'yeahs' and 'okays' and then hang up.
They don't say anything for a moment, waiting instead for me to talk first.
"That was the hospital," I explain, "they want me to come down there right now to discuss my dad's treatment." I swallow thickly trying to ignore the horrible sickening feeling that is growing in my stomach.
After a brief moment of silence, Delly is the fist to speak up.
She grabs her coat and starts scooting out of the booth, "Well, let's get down there then."
After that I don't hesitate, jumping up to follow her and sending both her and Finn a grateful smile for being by my side through all of this.
At the hospital we sit at my dad's bedside for 2 1/2 hours before the doctor finally comes in to speak with me. My dad seems exhausted, but he never stops his conversation with Delly and Finnick. He's come to see them like his own children after all the years of us hanging around together. He smiles brighter and laughs a little more easily with their presence in the room. It's a lot less tense and anxious than my normal visits where it's just me and him and his cancer weighs heavily in the air, hanging over us like a dark cloud that we can't ignore.
When the doctor comes in he greets us all and then I step out in the hallway to speak to him privately.
"We did some scans the other day and saw that the second, more aggressive round of chemo we implemented hasn't been as successful as we would have hoped in shrinking the size of the tumor," the middle aged doctor begins, using that clinical tone that I've come to realize everyone at the hospital uses to discuss things like this. The tone that makes it sound like they could be discussing a simple math problem rather than my dad's life.
"Okay, so what's the next step?" I ask, running a hand through my hair in distress at the news.
"We want to schedule surgery to go in and try to remove as much of it as we can. We had initially hoped to avoid surgery, between your father's age and the history of heart problems in his family, we didn't want to risk it if we could have avoided it, but it's a step that has to be taken at this stage."
I swallow the lump that forms in my throat, fighting off the emotion that threatens to consume me so I can stay composed and deal with this situation. In a sense I'm almost relieved and encouraged that this is happening, that they're going to try and do something that might actually really help him. The chemo has worn him down and I know surgery isn't a magic cure, but at least it's something.
The doctor goes on to tell me that there could be complications based on the tumor's size and location and they might not be able to remove all, or any, of it once they get in there and really see for themselves. I nod understandingly and he informs me they'll have a hospital attendant come by in a little bit to schedule the surgery which they'll perform in the next few weeks in order to let my dad's body rest and recover from his last chemo treatment.
After he leaves I head back in the room and try to push away the worry I feel and just enjoy the presence of my dad and two closest friends. Finnick and Delly eventually head home to leave us some time alone together and then it gets harder and harder to keep it together.
"What did I tell you Peeta? Never try to hide what you're feeling, that doesn't make you a man," my dad tells me as I sit at the edge of his bed, grasping his hand between my own.
"I know," I reply, still trying to fight off the tears despite myself.
"This will be good," my dad tries to assure me. "This way, after the surgery we'll know for sure one way or the other," he explains and I realize that is exactly what I'm afraid of. "I can't even begin to tell you how much I hate chemo," he adds, somehow laughing about it. "I say, let them cut me open if it means the damn puking stops."
"It'll be okay," I say, squeezing his hand gently, trying to reassure myself as much as him.
"Of course it will," he responds. "Now tell me about what's going on with you. I'm sick of hospital talk. Any pretty girls catch your eye lately?"
I hesitate as an image of Katniss flashes across my mind. I quickly shake my head to clear it though because I know those are the kind of thoughts I can not be entertaining.
I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out.
"Now you wouldn't lie to your poor, sick old man, right?" My dad teases me. "Because I can see it in your eyes and I know my boy and I know there is some lucky girl out there."
I shrug, not sure how to explain it.
"There is this one girl..." I begin but I have no idea where to go from there. How do I explain that there is a girl who I can't get out of my mind, but who I'm also working with in grief counseling? How do I explain that it doesn't matter if I think about her like that because it can't happen?
After a long, awkward moment of silence where I can't seem to find any words my dad finally speaks up. He pats the back of my hand reassuringly, "Say no more, I've been there before," he chuckles.
"It's just complicated," I finally get out.
"Matters of the heart aren't really complicated," he returns, "It's what's in our head that makes everything so difficult. But the heart? The heart knows what it wants."
I shrug. "Yeah, I guess you're right," I agree.
"Have you ever known me not to be right?" He returns without missing a beat. He laughs until it turns into a cough and then after he calms down he almost immediately dozes off.
I stay by his side until visiting hours are over and then finally head home.
I pace nervously around my office, running my hands through my hair.
I'm having an internal battle with myself, going back and forth between thinking this was a horrible idea and knowing that this had to happen.
My office is a decent sized room with a desk in the corner and bookshelves lining the walls. When you first walk in there is a large cushioned chair adjacent to a small sofa, separated by a glass coffee table on an area rug. I anxiously insure that everything is in place for the hundredth time and then check the clock once more.
The reason behind my current state of distress is a social worker that I'm getting to know quite well. After another phone conversation with Haymitch Abernathy where he wanted to know about what progress, if any, Katniss was making in counseling, I had no choice but to be honest with him and tell him that she wasn't really improving. She wasn't sharing, she wasn't interacting with any other group members, and she barely seemed to be listening most of the time.
I didn't mention the two small conversations I had with her where she told me she was a 'lost cause' and that 'I couldn't help her'.
The older man had sighed on the phone when he heard this, an exasperated noise of discontent, that made me realize he was as invested in helping Katniss as I was. I casually mentioned that maybe talking in front of a lot of people made her uneasy, thinking about how she was more candid with me those few times we had been alone than in the month's worth of sessions she had already attended.
It was that comment that made Haymitch suggest one-on-one sessions where it could just be me and her and after a little hesitation I eventually agreed, realizing that it was probably the best option for Katniss right now.
Haymitch had told me that he would be the one to call and tell Katniss since she would probably need a little convincing. He said if I didn't hear from him before the scheduled first session that meant Katniss had, most likely begrudgingly, agreed to come.
Now it's 5 minutes before the scheduled start of our first one-on-one session and I never heard from Haymitch so I can only assume that means Katniss will be here. The more I think about it and the longer I wait, unable to sit still in my office, the more my stomach continues to twist in knots at the idea of her actually showing up, of us being alone together.
Just as I'm about to pick up my phone and call Haymitch to maybe see if we can push this off until a later date I hear two hard, quick knocks on my office door. I move over to the door and open it quickly, taking in the sight of Katniss with her arms crossed in front of her chest, her eyes narrowed, clearly annoyed.
"So he told you."
It's not a question, it's a simple statement since we both already know the answer. The fact I know something that I'm certain she had no plans on ever telling me makes the tension between us thick and uncomfortable.
"Yeah, he did," I answer her anyways. "Just that your parents have passed and your sister is living with a relative. And that you're trying to be named her legal guardian."
She rolls her eyes and brushes past me into the room, throwing her purse on the sofa before plopping down next to it.
"Great. Now you know my life story." She crosses her arms and looks away from me as I close the door and take a seat in the chair next to the sofa.
"I'm sorry," I begin awkwardly, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans, "he was just trying to help," I say, for some reason feeling like I should defend Haymitch.
She laughs, a short, breathy little chuckle that makes it clear she is not at all amused.
"Everyone just wants to help," she says, finally meeting my eyes for the first time since she walked in. I think back to the last counseling session when I caught up with her in the parking lot and she told me I couldn't help her. Based on the look in her eyes I can tell she's remembering that moment too.
"Look Katniss," I begin, "I know you don't exactly want to do this. But the fact of the matter is that this is going to help you get your sister back. And I'm sure that's reason enough right there."
She locks her eyes on me, the intensity of her gaze almost causing me to look away. Finally, she shakes her head a little exasperated, but doesn't say anything.
"Haymitch and I thought it would be easier if we started doing these one-on-one sessions. I know the group setting can be a little intimidating and it's definitely not for everyone."
"Yeah, whatever," she shrugs, not meeting my eyes again.
"And this doesn't have to be...what I'm sure you're thinking it's going to be like. You can talk about whatever you want." She looks skeptical, but doesn't say anything. "Like tell me about your sister," I encourage her.
"Why do you want to know about my sister?" She asks uncertainly.
"Why wouldn't I?" I return. "She's obviously pretty important to you."
She looks at me for a long moment, her eyebrows pinched together, her face scrunched up in a look of concentrated concern. She opens her mouth to speak, but then hesitates.
"How old is she?" I ask, hoping to make it easier on her.
"Fourteen," she responds immediately. She still looks unsure, like she's debating how much she should dare actually tell me. After a brief moment of consideration she continues. "Her name's Prim," she adds, "short for Primrose."
"Do you guys look alike?"
"Not at all," she returns, surprising me as she continues to answer my questions rather than shutting me out. "She has fair skin, blonde hair and blue eyes," she explains, nervously picking at the hem of her shirt. "You and she could be related."
I laugh, surprised by her answer.
"And the relative she's staying with? How's she handling that?"
Katniss shrugs. "It's my mom's second cousin," she begins, still nervously fidgeting with her hands, "and she's doing surprisingly well. She actually doesn't seem to mind it all that much."
She trails off and I pick up on a shift in her mood. I want to keep the conversation going, desperate to keep her talking because it feels like this is the most she's said in one sitting since I met her. I'm just about to say something when she stands up from the couch and starts to pace around the room, inspecting the framed pictures and diplomas on the wall and the books on the shelves, keeping her back towards me.
I stand up to join her, making sure to stay a few feet behind her as she continues to survey my office carefully. "I'm sure that hasn't been very easy," I begin carefully, "not having your sister around," I clarify.
She looks at me over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing. She looks annoyed and I know I'm treading on very dangerous territory. "Yeah it's been shitty," she says curtly, turning her back to me again.
She's silent for a long time, pacing around the office, appearing to be enthralled by my wall decorations and the books I keep on hand.
"You've been taking care of her for a while," I break the silence and she snaps her head back to look at me. "I mean, Haymitch mentioned about your mom..." I trail off, seeing the fire in her eyes, knowing that she doesn't like the idea of me knowing so much about her, that she doesn't like the fact I'm confronting her about it right now.
"I don't know, it's just probably hard to feel like you have to be the parent, to feel like you're in charge of your sister when there was no one to be a parent to you." And immediately I know, I've said too much, gone too far.
I see the tears start to form in her eyes, but she doesn't let them fall. Instead she clenches her jaw tightly, breathing heavily through her nose.
Before I know what's happening I see her take two quick steps towards me, hands outstretched. I'm confused until I feel her shove me violently in the chest, her arms pining me to the nearest wall.
"You don't know anything about me, okay?" She fumes, her face inches away from mine. The threat of tears is gone and now all I can see is the anger, and the pain, flashing in her eyes.
"And you're not going to magically cure me," she adds and suddenly all I can think about is how close she is, the warmth of her body, how bad I want her.
I try to push away those kind of thoughts, cursing my traitorous body for wanting to turn her around and slam her up against the wall so I can kiss her for as long as I want.
She hesitates and I think I see her eyes flicker to my lips, but maybe I'm just imagining it. There's that spark in the air between us though and I think she might feel it too. She pulls back just slightly but keeps her hands firmly on my shoulders, preventing me from moving.
"Stop trying to fix me, okay?" She warns. "I don't need to be fixed."
"I know," I whisper. "I know you don't. I'm not trying to fix you, but I know what it feels like to feel broken when those people you care about most aren't around anymore."
She drops her hands from my shoulders and steps back, seeming almost surprised at the position we were just in. She seems to contemplate my words in the silence that follows. We're both breathing heavily and all we can do is just stand there looking at each other.
It's strange how it just hits me in a moment of clarity. I want her. I want to ease her pain and I want to know what it's like to kiss her. I want to be the person that helps her get her sister back and I want to feel her body pressed against mine.
I want these things that I know I shouldn't. But now it feels like I'm past the point of caring. There's no turning back, no forgetting about this girl and simply ignoring how I feel about her now.