This chapter's probably going to be weird…maybe too short or awful or something. Just warning you!
Enjoy.
oOo
The second the words were said, I realized just how much damage I had done. If Peeta's arms hadn't been around me I would have collapsed. He held on just long enough for the hovercraft to materialize above us and drop the two ladders.
My numb fingers curled around one of the rungs and the electrical current froze my body.
Suicide.
The word echoed in my head over and over like a broken record, but it was often overlapped by paralyzing disbelief.
We made it out?
Peeta and I?
Again?
Just by those few sentences… Why did they do it? Why did Plutarch let me live? Why did Snow let me live? Surely, if it had been his idea he wouldn't have, but yet… He wouldn't have let Claudius Templesmith announce it if he didn't want the Games to be over just then…
What moved the president to let us live when we created such chaos, went against the rules and being responsible for an uprising?
I didn't know which time I'd been more terrified: when the mutts were eating Chaff and snapping at our heels or just then, that realization.
And Peeta… I ruined his future, whatever chance of normalcy he might have had was gone. He was in danger. I failed, I failed.
My eyes locked on with his as we were getting pulled into the craft. His expression was not one I expected. Anger, panic, sadness—no, much more than sadness.
When we got up into the hovercraft and unfroze, I immediately felt a needle jabbed into my arm. There was no time to apologize before falling out cold.
Beep.
…
Beep.
…
Beep.
…
My eyelids felt as heavy as iron curtains. I was vaguely aware of the metal bands on my shoulders and ankles, and numbness pulsed from the crook of my arm.
Strange… My gut felt on fire, twisting and yanking deep, but it didn't really…feel like my gut. I forced my dry lips open to moan, but I only got out a small huff of breath before getting pulled under again.
This happened twice more. Both moments I woke with the same stomach pain. The second time my eyes were able to open and I found an Avox waiting for me.
"Peeta…" I whispered, craning my stiff neck to look in another direction. "I need to talk to him."
Alarm unexpectedly slammed in my chest and I struggled against my bindings. The Avox pressed something on the wall that knocked me out. Again.
I was allowed to eat the next time I woke up. For a few days this went on—like in the first Games—and it was a relief to wake up one last time without the bindings or needles in my arm. The pain in my stomach wasn't as bad, but something felt terribly wrong.
I had to ignore it.
My back creaked as I sat up in my paper gown. Taking a moment to assess the damage done on me, I found that the itching scabs from the ants were gone, as were the scratches and bruises and other such injuries I'd gotten in the arena. My hair, which had been damaged from the poison fog, seemed fixed as well.
Though nothing stopped my heart from aching.
Now is not the time to have an emotional breakdown from self-loathing, I warned myself, hugging my arms around my middle. Get up now.
Silently, I slid from the floor, staggering for a second before standing straight.
The door on the other side of the room was unlocked, so I left through it and found myself standing in an empty grey hallway. At the end of the hall was a partially-ajar door than I entered.
Haymitch sat at a couch, holding a glass of amber liquid. His hair was greasy, there were circles under his eyes and a grimace seemed forever plastered on his mouth as he stared into his glass.
I stood for a few minutes, unsure what to say, until he slowly slid his gaze up to mine.
"You," he croaked, "are in serious trouble."
My face grew hot with irritation. "Haymitch—"
"Don't 'Haymitch' me!" he yelled furiously, standing and sloshing some of his drink onto the floor. "What the HELL were you thinking? 'Get Peeta out alive,' you said, but now look what you've done! You've doomed both of you by that little stunt!" Spit was flying out of his mouth.
"You don't understand!" I cried, balling up my fists. "I can't—"
"I know, I know…" Haymitch snorted, giving me a nasty look while sopping up his spilled drink with an expensive-looking rug. "You can't live without him. Bullcrap. He would have been better off dead than what's going to happen to you two now."
And with that, he stormed out, muttering words like "stupid" and "brat" and "selfish."
Tears welled in my eyes after him, but there was no time to cry because Effie teetered in in her seven-inch heels, looking slightly abashed. She took one look at me before wrapping me in a short, suffocating embrace.
"Don't mind Haymitch," she tutted, giving the back of the door a disdainful look. "He hasn't slept in days." After a second more of looking distraught, her expression beamed. "But look at you! I admit, I didn't think you could pull it off again, but you never fail to disappoint. Once your prep team get ahold of you again you'll be good as new." She blinked her frighteningly long eyelashes at me for a second before snapping back into focus. "But never mind that. We need to get you back to your room to get cleaned up before dinner."
Effie grabbed onto my hand, digging in with her claws, and marched me out of the room.
"Where's Peeta?" I asked as we walked. "I need to talk to him."
My escort tutted again. "Patience, Katniss. You'll see each other at the interview."
"When is it?"
We swerved down another hallway.
"Tomorrow evening before dinner," Effie said, and then stopped suddenly in front of a door. "This is your room for tonight, and then tomorrow you'll be relocated to another one next to Peeta's until everything's over. Now, dinner is at six, and there are Avoxes to call on if you need anything." She let go of my hand and kissed both of my cheeks. "See you soon!"
I watched the back of her erect, patterned suit as she walked away, leaving me the only one in the empty hallway. Maybe I should have been glad for the alone time, but I felt vulnerable and weak. Before I did anything stupid, I ran into my room, locked the door tight behind me, and curled under the chemical-smelling covers of the bed and prayed that President Snow would spare Peeta.
It was only an hour until dinner when I dragged myself out of bed into the shower. I scrubbed myself until I was pink and tingling, and then walked around in my room naked until I found the closet. I pulled on a pair of black trousers and a loose button-up shirt. Someone obvious found my mockingjay pin and left it for me on the dresser, but I didn't put it on.
If I had my way, I wouldn't even go to dinner and order some stew, eating it in my underwear in bed until I fell asleep.
But that was not happening.
Effie came at six, like she said. Beaming, she wobbled on her heels all the way to the dining room. It was void of anyone except for a white-clad Avox standing next to a buffet of food that made me want to puke. I grabbed a bread roll and ladled some clear broth-looking liquid into a bowl and picked at it at the table.
Ten minutes in, Effie cleared her throat. "You don't look so well, Katniss. Should I call a doctor?'
"I'm fine," I said, shrugging. "My stomach just hurts."
"Aw." She clucked her tongue. "Let's hope you feel better by the interviews. We wouldn't want your big day to be spoiled by some bug."
It was hard not to glare at her. "…Just nerves," I mumbled, and stood up. "I'm going back to my room." When Effie opened her mouth to argue, I interrupted."I'm not hungry." And left her to her own dinner.
That night I dreamed of ants. Red, as long as your fingers, crawling inside my skin and clothing and crawling into my mouth. I wanted to scream, but they would crawl into my throat, biting and burying into my skin. Through watering eyes I could see Peeta a few feet away getting eaten by the creatures too. His mouth was open and irises rolled back into his head.
"Peeta," I tried crying out, but no noise left my mouth.
The second my lips parted the bugs flooded my mouth.
A scream woke me.
Cold sweat was prickling all over my body, soaking the pillows under my head and the blankets that were tangled around my waist. My skin prickled with the feeling of the ants still on me and I stood jerkily, ripping the clothes off my body and gasping, trying to slap the feeling away.
A freezing-cold shower gave me a big enough headache to stop the scuttling-bug feeling, and I crawled in bed naked, only to realize my gut was acting up again. It felt like the world's worst menstrual cramps. Mother would probably have something to help it, but she wasn't there.
I didn't sleep again that night. Instead, I thrashed around and tried not to cry until Effie came to wake me. There were huge bags under my eyes and my hair was completely mussed up from tossing and turning so much. Effie took one look at me and frowned.
She walked past and ordered some breakfast from the automatic food dispenser, and then turned back to me.
"Don't worry, Katniss," she said in an attempt at a soothing voice, patting my cheek. "I'll explain to everyone why you aren't at breakfast."
"Thanks," I mumbled, absentmindedly clutching at my stomach and turning back. The smell of cinnamon from breakfast was alluring, but I knew I couldn't eat.
The rest of the day was spent in anxious solitude, pacing around and sipping water and forcing myself to eat, though I felt incredibly ill.
Effie came to tell me when my prep team would arrive—which happened to be right after her—and minutes after she left, Venia, Octavia and Flavius burst in and enveloped me with hugs and kisses and got right to work making me presentable for the interviews.
"Is Cinna coming in afterwards? Where is he?" I asked, cutting their frivolous conversations short.
They all fell silent.
Venia, who was hovering above my face with a pot of makeup, pursed her lips.
After several seconds of silence, she cleared her throat. "Close your eyes for the shadow, Katniss."
I closed them, but dread was building in my chest. "Where is Cinna?" I asked again.
"…He's not here." Flavius said quietly, inserting pins in my hair.
A memory flicked into my mind. Watching my stylist from inside a glass tube, being beaten bloody and senseless.
He isn't there.
He was never going to be there again.
"You're messing up your mascara," Venia complained, but it was half-hearted. She took a tissue and wiped away the black tears that were trailed from my eyelashes. "Don't worry. It'll be alright."
They didn't talk for the rest of the time. When they were done, all three of my prep team shuffled from the room without saying anything to me, heads bowed and hands folded.
My new stylist was terrifying, with red jewels down the bridge of his nose and a face tightened with surgery and hair the same red shade sticking half a foot up in the air. I didn't let him touch me.
"Your old stylist left your interview outfit here," he said in a frighteningly high-pitched voice, holding out something wrapped in plastic. "Quite the talent he had." He giggled, rolling pupil-less eyes, obviously from contacts.
I tentatively took the dress from him, and turned my back to him before removing my robe. I yearned for my old friend's company, but I knew I was on my own from then on.
It was hard wrestling into the dress, but I got it over my head and tied it in the back. Despite objections, my new stylist fixed the frizz my hair had taken on from static electricity.
"If it had been up to me," he chirped disapprovingly, "your outfit would be completely different, but so be it. I'll have you to myself soon enough."
I yanked away from him and turned to the ceiling-to-floor mirror on one side of the room.
Cinna had done it again.
Before, he managed to make me into so many different people, seemingly changing my personality with each outfit. Influential, desirable, girlish, headstrong. He managed to make me a new person again with this outfit.
A floor-length gown made of black silk gathered at the hips to fall in a waterfall of shimmering gold and yellow were barely visible, slipping through the black like a campfire in the night. The straps were needle-thin, the neckline plunging. The waist was extremely fitted and had lace crawling up the back and wrapping around my front. With it was a pair of black gloves that went up to my elbows and shiny dark shoes that had small heels.
Around my neck was draped several necklaces made of red and orange jewels and teensy pearls. Flavius had done my hair back so curls cascaded down my back and were pinned on the top of my head, framing my face; smoky eyes and bright red lips and rosy cheeks.
Cinna had made me a lady, the kind hundreds of years ago that wore hats of feathers and silk.
I didn't recognize myself a single bit. I looked older, absolutely gorgeous, impenetrable yet vulnerable.
When I walked I had to hold the skirt up so it would not brush the ground, and I remembered Effie's words and held it a little lower than the ankles. I felt like Katniss Everdeen in another woman's body. The person looking back at me in the mirror hadn't gone what I'd gone through, hadn't seen what I'd seen, hadn't killed or betrayed or lied.
I wished I could tell Cinna how much I loved it, but he wasn't there, so I made due with completely ignoring my new stylist and waiting near the door for Effie to come.
She did, and when we were walking side-by-side to the interview room, she leaned over and whispered, "You look absolutely stunning, Katniss."
"Thank you," I said. The tightness of the bodice did not do anything for my ever-growing stomachache, and I was having a hard time not crying out in pain. Well, even if my gut wasn't in such pain I would still be on the verge of crying. I felt terribly emotional and vulnerable, and that was when I was avoiding thinking about everything that was upsetting me at the moment.
Outside the interview room door, Effie stopped and straightened one of my necklaces. "It's live right as we speak, so the second you walk in, remember you're on the screen."
I nodded.
"Good luck, Katniss. We'll be watching." She laced her hands in front of her and stepped back. "Even Haymitch, I'll make sure of it."
I thanked her again and, feeling the butterflies taking flight inside of me, I opened the door and stepped in.
I saw Ceaser first, with his dyed hair and lips and eyebrows, sitting on his usual chair in his usual twinkling suit with his usual plastic smile. In front of him, on the loveseat, Peeta sat. He was in a midnight black suit, elbows on knees, legs jittering with impatience.
His eyes snapped on me when I came in and he stood.
We didn't run to each other as we did in the first Games.
I saw him looking so clean and beautiful, and again I thought of how much damage I did. I remembered Haymitch's words… "He would have been better off dead than what's going to happen to you two now…"
Within seconds, I found myself tucked against Peeta's body, and then two tears fell from each eye. I had to apologize, even though it was a meager compensation for the doom I set upon him. I needed to tell him that I was sorry, but we were live.
Chin resting on his shoulder, I put my lips against Peeta's ear, and in a shaky voice, said, "I think, Peeta…I think…" I knew. Our supposed unborn child was understood by all of the Capitol. The audience would take it. "Peeta, I think I lost him."
He was silent, but I thought it was from confusion.
"Peeta, I think he's gone," I repeated, pulling away to look into his dazzling eyes. His brows were furrowed. "I'm sorry." I buried my face in his chest again. "I'm so sorry… I'm sorry…"
He must have understood, because he just held me tighter, brushing a strand of my hair back.
After a few seconds, Ceaser cleared his throat.
Peeta held on for a moment longer just to press his lips to my cheek and whisper, "You look beautiful."
Stop being so nice. I just ruined your life. You should be hating me right about now.
We walked hand-in-hand over to the couch and sat, but instead of curling up next to him, I sat straight and just kept a hand in the crook of his elbow.
Ceaser reached over and kissed my gloved hand. "It's lovely to have you back, Katniss. May I say you look dazzling tonight?"
I let out a strained, weak laugh. "Thank you, Ceaser." And remembering our little game, I said, "You don't look terrible yourself."
He laughed back. "Well, shall we get this show on the road?" His eyes flicked up to the cameraman, who gave him a thumbs up. Ceaser smiled and leaned forwards, folding his hands. "First I'd like to start off with a welcome back and congratulations. I must say, you've got the eyes of every single person in Panem."
I wasn't sure what to say, so I nodded modestly.
"I have never seen a couple more determined to be together than you two, and it is such a heartbreaker to see something like that happen in an arena." Ceaser put his hands on his chest. "I am just absolutely thrilled to be talking to you two again. I barely know where to start."
"The beginning works," Peeta said, trying for lightheartedness and joviality, but it failed.
Ceaser laughed again. "Right you are. So..." He folded his hands. "During our first interviews for these Games, I was genuinely hoping that one of you would be this years' victor. What were your thoughts, knowing that only one was allowed for victor at the time? What was on your minds? Katniss?"
Though I didn't necessarily want to, I knew that the truth was probably the best thing to tell right then.
Truth…
I fiddled with one of my necklaces. "…To be perfectly honest with you, Ceaser, I had made a deal with our mentor that we'd do everything in our power to get Peeta out alive. I wasn't worried about myself at all."
Ceaser's eyebrows raised with surprise and he looked over at Peeta for his input.
"That's very funny," Peeta said—almost bitterly—and gave me a pointed look, "because Haymitch promised me that same thing about you."
Our interviewer clucked his tongue. "Tragic. So you went on through the Games assuming the other would be the one to win?"
We nodded.
"And up on the cornucopia…?"
I sighed, glancing down at my hands. "…I had hoped that maybe someone would…would get to me before I had to even consider what would have happened if we were the last. Up until then I was fine with the plan."
"Then everything changed." Ceaser shook his head sadly.
"Then everything changed," I agreed, tightening my grip on Peeta and lifting my head to look up at him. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."
Peeta gave me a small kiss on the lips. "I'd never try to get rid of you. That was your idea."
"Only b—" I stopped myself.
No arguing on live TV.
Forcing a rigid smile, I looked away. "We deserved to be a family together."
Ceaser nodded, as if he understood. "Of course you do, of course. Now, what about your friends you made in the arena? That was some accident that happened. Did you at all predict that your own allies would fall victims to such a clever trap?"
"Of course not," Peeta and I said at the same time. Peeta apologized and let me answer.
"I didn't really know if it would even work," I said quietly. "Beetee was the smart one out of us. I didn't think it would work, let alone kill all of our friends."
For some reason, Ceaser laughed. "It was a little strange, wasn't it? Well, I suppose it worked the first time. And you felt…close to these people?"
"Not close, really." I shrugged, feeling bothered. "But I knew that I owed Finnick. He saved Peeta's life."
"And it's the first gift that's the hardest to repay." He nodded sympathetically again. "Yes. What did you think about that, Peeta?"
Peeta frowned. "...After I hit the force field, everything just went black. It wasn't like you'd think, being aware enough to know you're dead. It wasn't anything. But I came about, and I saw Katniss kneeling over me, crying with happiness, and right then I just…" he trailed off.
I couldn't help but put both of my arms around his waist. "…You really scared me."
"I'm okay now," he reassured me, kissing the top of my head. "I wasn't about to leave my family."
"That's very sweet…" Ceaser's face lit up as if remembering something amazing. He leaned forwards towards Peeta. "Speaking of family, Peeta, the interview we had earlier with you…"
He let out a breath. "I would have given anything to have more than three minutes to discuss what you'd said. Thankfully, we can take all the time we want now. So," His gaze turned to me and his mouth stretched out expectantly, "Katniss. When Peeta announced your pregnancy, you seemed beyond distraught. What was going through your mind?"
I had to stick to my charade. It was easy bringing tears to my eyes and contorting my face with pain. Pause. "…The…idea of having something…someone…" My throat actually closed off. "If anything happened to Peeta…I'd have a bit of him with me. A…reminder of…"
I put my hands over my face and pressed against Peeta's side, feeling hot tears in my eyes. And they weren't exactly intentional.
He put his arm around my shoulders and held me. Thankfully, he was smart enough to understand what I was doing and what I meant.
Ceaser reached over and put his hand on my shoulder. "Are you alright, Katniss?"
The façade was working fabulously. My face was wet and twisted and voice shaking as I repeated, "I think I lost him…"
His colored brows furrowed.
"…The baby." I buried my face again.
Peeta sucked in a breath and squeezed his arms. His own face knotted with pain.
Ceaser's mouth popped open.
Silence except for my muffled snivels.
Finally, after the agonizing pause, our interviewer glanced over at the cameraman. "Cut for a break, please."
The second we were off air I stood up and walked to the other side of the room, still hiding my face in my hands.
If this was pretend, why did my heart hurt so badly? Why were there still tears on my cheeks?
I hadn't realized Peeta had gotten up until he came over and gently took my hands away from my face. I didn't want to look him in the eyes. Because of shame, maybe. But he didn't look like that was on his mind at all.
Peeta put his hands on either side of my head and wiped the tears away with both thumbs.
"It'll be fine, Katniss…" he murmured, resting his forehead against mine.
"I'm sorry," I said again, shaking my head. "I'm so s—"
To shut me up, he put a finger across my lips and sighed. "I know you are. But it isn't your fault."
Yes it is…
I didn't say anything.
Peeta sighed and looked back at Ceaser. "Could someone get her some water?"
Our interviewer nodded and gestured to a silent Avox standing near the corner of the room waiting for this exact reason. The man disappeared out the door.
Though it looked like Peeta wanted to say more, he just let out another sigh and looked down at the floor. His fingers wound around mine for a moment away from the cameras. "…I'm going to give you a moment to regain composer, but remember, we have an audience to impress."
It was obvious he was fighting to urge to do or say something else, and I knew that was because he didn't know how I would react. Just because of that, I stretched up and pressed my lips to his. It was a sweet kiss, not pretend at all. I just wanted him to know I still cared.
It worked, and when Peeta pulled away, there was a small, sad smile on his face. "…Love you, Katniss."
The way he said it…
My throat had closed off yet again, so I nodded to him and accepted the Avox's offering of water.
Peeta went back over to the small couch and seated himself at it, clearing his throat at Ceaser. "Let's give her a few minutes."
Ceaser nodded sympathetically. "Do you mind if we start rolling again? Do you mind if I talk to you alone?"
Though I was right there—not fifteen feet away—Peeta said, "Not at all," and they both straightened up as the cameraman pressed something on his expensive equipment.
"On in five…four…three…" he started saying, "two…one. And we're live."
Ceaser shot a frightening, wide smile at the camera. "Sorry about that, ladies and gentlemen. Katniss is taking a short break, but we have Peeta here, so if you don't mind, Peeta, I'm dying to ask you some questions."
I sipped water as my face dried a little, watching the two.
Peeta tried to smile good-naturedly, but it was tired. "Ask away, Ceaser."
The interviewer laced his finger on his lap and leaned in. "You've already informed us of the fact that you and Miss Everdeen are already married?"
"We toasted, yes, but it's not official." Peeta nodded.
"But now you two have made it out, it can and will be official. How do you feel about that?"
He took a deep breath, creasing his forehead. "…I'm excited, of course. Sort of in shock." A laugh. "Though, the toasting already bound us. To me, it can't get more official."
"Well of course." Ceaser winked. "That and the fact that she's pregnant with your child."
"Let's not go there, Ceaser." Peeta's expression stiffened.
"Oh, that's right. That's right. I apologize." The interviewer seemed genuinely contrite. "But I must ask you this; now that you both are out and safe, what do you plan on doing?"
"Oh, I doubt we're safe," Peeta said honestly, tilting his head, "but we're going to do what we were originally going to. Accept the fact that our lives are changed forever and carry on."
"Of course." After clearing his throat and giving him a sly, official raise-eyebrow look. "Now, I was going to save this for the end, but if Katniss is ready, I would like to say something to the both of you."
I set down my water, wiped my eyes, and then went to sit down next to Peeta again. He automatically wrapped his arm around me, providing support.
"Everything okay?" he whispered in my ear, and I nodded.
"So, Katniss," Ceaser said, turning my attention to him. "This normally doesn't happen, but President Snow has specifically requested permission to join us for the last bit of the interview. Do you feel comfortable with that?"
No.
"Of course." I forced the corners of my mouth to turn upwards. "He is, after all, why we're alive."
Peeta caught the bitterness and sarcasm, but didn't say anything.
A huge, artificial smile widened on Ceaser Flickerman's face and he turned to the camera again. "In that case, citizens of Panem, I give you our one and only…President Snow!" He stood and gesticulated widely to the door, which opened suddenly.
When Snow entered, my heart leapt up to my throat and it felt as though each of my veins constricted with terror.
Snow waved to the audience and they played a live clip of the crowds screaming and cheering for a few seconds before cutting it off again. A seat was pulled up next to Ceaser where the president sat, folding his hands on his lap. The fume of roses flooded my nostrils and I tried not to gag.
"So, President, I heard you have an announcement to make," our interviewer said happily, turning to Snow.
Snow cleared his throat. "More of an…invitation. To our young victors here." His colorless eyes slid over and latched onto mine.
My insides turned to jelly.
"Since you are turning eighteen in a matter of weeks, Mr. Mellark," Snow said to Peeta, and then turned to me, "and in about a year for you, Ms. Everdeen, I have decided to make it an option for you and your families to…relocate."
"Relocate?" Peeta constricted his sweaty fists briefly, and frowned. "What do you mean?"
President Snow widened his snake smile, tilting his head as if this question mildly interested him. "I am giving you a formal invitation to move yourselves and your families to quarters here in the Capitol. Right in my mansion, in fact." He looked at the camera. "How does that sound?"
The cameraman cut to the live crowds again and the excited screams were deafening.
My mouth dried up.
He wanted me and Peeta to move into his mansion.
To keep an eye on us? To kill us?
We couldn't refuse.
Sweating and trembling like a leaf, I glanced up at Peeta, who looked like a deer in the headlights. He knew we couldn't refuse. "…How very kind of you to offer." He attempted smiling, but it was afraid. "I think, President, we just might take you up on that."
"Excellent." Snow reached over to shake Peeta's hand. "You two really are an impressive pair. I'm keeping my eyes on you." When he took my hand, I felt the promise pulsing between the contact.
The promise to make my life miserable. The promise to hurt me, maybe to kill me.
I let go quickly and tucked both arms around my chest.
"So, I think that just about does it for our interview!" Ceaser clapped his hands together, and all four of us stood in unison. He gripped Peeta's hand. "Congratulations again, you two. I think we'll be telling our children your stories long after you're gone."
That was comforting.
Ceaser took my gloved hand and kissed it again, and just like that, we were off air.
Snow left soon, and we met Effie outside the room.
She was fluttering around and beaming. "You two really are charmers," she said. "Everyone loved you."
I just clutched to Peeta's arm. My gut was doing its pain thing again, and I was having trouble standing without teetering back and forth.
Effie noticed my illness. "You really don't look well, Katniss. How about we talk over everything at dinner, and I'll fit a doctor's appointment for you in tomorrow? If you're having the trouble that you claim to be, we'll definitely need to see to that before it causes too much trouble." Her eyes slid down to my stomach.
I suddenly gasped. "No! No. I'm fine." Because, after all, I wasn't really pregnant.
"Nonsense. I'll talk to the doctors after we get you settled in yours rooms." She led us down more hallways. "Now, I'll be back bright and early tomorrow to fetch you two for breakfast. There's still so much to do!"
Our new rooms were right next to each other, but I didn't want to let go of him. After several minutes of standing between the two doors, I forced myself to let go and limped into mine, doubled over from pain. It had transformed, twisted.
I didn't even have any time to marvel at the luxuries of this new suite before curling up on the couch and crying myself to sleep.
oOo
I'm sorry that ended so terribly. I suck at writing interviews. I had the WOOOOORRRST writers block during the last half and just wanted to get over with it.
You can probably guess what I'm going to do with this.
To an extent. Bwahahaha…
So anyways, please review! If you have any questions or comments or anything like that.
Love all you!
Soggy