Chap 7

August-01-12

1:11 PM


MARCH

Peeta and I are hanging out at my place since it's easier for me to move around in.

Ever since that rainy day we've been inseparable and I still haven't anything about our near death experience to Fulvia and her crew even though Peeta's eyes bore into mine everyday, pleading for me to tell someone.

But everyday I start talking to him about something else whether it be something that I saw online or some weird gossip that I heard.

I still have butterflies whenever I'm around him, but I don't dwell on it. We're only going to be friends.

He's been playing a video game that Prim and poppa play, and occasionally me; while I catch up on some simple exercises that Cinna makes me do at home.

I feel more comfortable around Peeta; he's very down to earth and feel that he can act his dorky, goofy, real self that I've never seen before, but I actually really find cute. Funny thing is, I have that kind of side too that only my parents and Prim only saw before the accident.

I cheat on my exercise and row myself up from my laying position, grabbing onto Peeta's broad shoulder and bicep and yanking myself up faster.

This ends up messing up Peeta's video game and his character ends up dying on the television.

"Aw man! I swear, Katniss, you have perfect timing. Every time I'm about to get the prize on this level, you always choose me to be your ledge to help yourself up," Peeta says with a smirk on his face.

"I'm sorry, it's not my fault! I just didn't want to do the last sit up," I say laughing.

I look over at the clock on the kitchen wall and I realize that I only have twenty-five more minutes until my therapy appointment with Cinna.

"What's wrong?" Peeta asks me, pausing the new video game. He must have heard me gasp.

"I have a therapy appointment that I just remembered about and my parents are busy at work. Shoot," I say, trying to get into my wheelchair so I can get a move on to the hospital.

"Did you want a ride? I don't mind driving you. I wouldn't mind seeing what the heck you do for therapy. That is, if you don't mind," Peeta asks and offers.

I think about it for a moment, and I finally agree.

"Sure, thanks," I say and wheel myself over to the door after putting my coat on. "You just love driving me places, don't you."

"No, it's just that I hate the thought of you being on the road, vulnerable," Peeta says and instantly regrets. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"I don't need your pity," I say and keep moving out the door and lock up after he exits through the door.


"Hey Cinna, sorry I'm late, I almost forgot," I say, throwing my coat on a nearby coat rack.

"No problem. I'm Cinna and you are?" Cinna says introducing himself to Peeta and shaking his hand.

"Peeta Mellark, Katniss' friend," Peeta replies in his usual deep but light voice.

"Best friend," I cut in.

Peeta looks at me surprised.

I am surprised at myself as well. But I do think of him as my best and closest friend.

"He'll be watching, plus he's my ride," I say smiling.

"If it's okay," Peeta adds.

"No, not a problem whatsoever. It's nice to see someone take an interest in things like this," Cinna says.

He then wheels me over to the bench that I usually lay on for practice and he lifts me up and out of my wheelchair. We go straight to work on my exercises which include trying to move my knee even though it's probably not possible to do so. Cinna's the one who's actually doing the work. Everything below my waist is dead weight that I have no control over anymore.

After a few more knee bends, I give up.

"Ugh, I can't do it anymore!" I cry out annoyed.

"Why don't you take a five minute break, Katniss? I'll be right back," Cinna says, placing my leg in a straight laying position.

Cinna leaves the huge exercise room and Peeta and I are the only ones left.

I hear footsteps walking towards me and they stop beside me.

I look up and see Peeta staring at me with a smirk on his face.

"What do you want?" I say pretending to sound annoyed.

"Have you ever thought about trying to walk?" Peeta asks suddenly.

"What? That's impossible! I'm paralyzed! I can't move! I can't even move my own leg by myself! How can I walk?" I ask in disbelief, writing him off.

"I think you can. Wouldn't you want to try instead of denying the possibilities and having to rely on someone to help you do simple things? Don't you want to be independent?" Peeta says to me.

I don't look at him for a moment and then I do. "Fine. You want to see if I can walk? Is this because you don't want to be friends with someone in a wheelchair? Okay. Then let's walk. Get me up, outta this stupid bench whatever and let's do this," I say angrily.

"Don't be hot-headed doing this. You're only hurting yourself and you're not doing it for the right reasons," Peeta replies shaking his head.

"No, you want this. You suggested it. And you're going to be helping me. And you're going to see that it doesn't and won't ever work. I'm telling you," I snap.

"Okay, I will. And I'm telling you that you'll be surprised," Peeta retorts as he lifts me off the bench and carries me, well drags me over to a contraption that looks like a mini footbridge with railings. He has one arm wrapped around my waist and the other is on my outstretched arm which grasps onto the railing for dear life.

"Katniss, move your leg," Peeta says.

I look up at him. He's really close to me. He stands right beside and behind me. I feel the butterflies again in my stomach at this closeness, but I have to ignore it. We can only be friends; even friends is pushing it.

"I can't, Peeta, see, there's no movement. They're useless," I say.

Peeta looks annoyed with me until something flashes upon his face. Amusement; an idea?

He surprises me when he starts tickling me at my sides and I burst out laughing with no control over it. I try and wiggle away with all my might and I do―I lose my footing as one of my feet move from it's spot planted in front of Peeta's and I fall away from him against one of the railings.

My breath is gone from this discovery and I look at Peeta with wide eyes.

His reaction surprisingly matches mine almost exactly without any hint of 'I told you so' attitude.

"Was that―"

"Yes, it was movement, but you're doing it all wrong. We have to start at a smaller pace before we get to walking the bridge. Come on, let's get you back on the bench. I want to work a bit more on getting the hang of making your foot move by itself before you actually start on walking. We'll talking about that before you go home, Katniss," Cinna says, entering the room.


"So you do know that there is a lot of work involved with learning to walk?" Cinna says, as he pulls out a pen and paper from his desk drawer after my therapy lesson.

"Yeah? I get that," I say.

I don't know why I'm doing this special therapy to be able to walk again when all my doctors have declared me as a paraplegic. However, Peeta really wants me to try, so I guess I'm doing it for him and for me of course.

"It's a big time commitment. This includes everyday you're going to have to come in and practice. You'll also have to practice at home as well. And no giving up too, Katniss," Cinna continues.

I nod and agree.

"Tomorrow, when you come in, the braces and belt and strap that you tried on so that they can be used to help you walk will be ready for you to use. Alright? Well, I'll see you tomorrow; nice meeting you Peeta," Cinna says finally, bidding us goodbye.

We say goodbye and we head out to Peeta's car. He helps me in the car and we drive off from the hospital.

"Katniss, I just want ot stop off here at the art store. Did you want to come in with me?" Peeta asks me when we arrive at the store.

"Sure, if it's not a problem," I reply as I slide out of my seat and into my wheelchair that Peeta has already gotten ready for me.

We go inside. I roam the hallways while Peeta gets what he needs from the paint and baking aisle. After the twenty minutes that Peeta asked me to give him, I go to look for him. Except he's not there and nowhere to be found.

"Peeta?" I call out as loud as I can in the store without drawing attention to myself.

I decide to text him to see if he went somewhere else. He doesn't reply. So I call his cell. He picks up.

"Peeta? Where are you?" I demand.

He doesn't reply.

"Peeta?"

No answer.

I finally hear the sound of a van's tires squealing down a road before the phone call is disconnected.

I fly out of the store to his car and circle the car, checking the trunk and backseat for any clues. Nothing.

Then on the windshield I find a folded up note.

I reach out for it and unfold it.

On it reads:

I told you not to tell. I saw you, you were very close to telling on many occasions. Now it's time for me to collect what's mine in this deal. Let Peeta be a reminder to your foolishness.

―C.S.

That's when I realize, Peeta's gone...and it's because of me.


A/N: Well? I'd love for your feedback and any suggestions or questions.

Thanks!