Peeta:
Our daughter is screaming. Screaming!
I wouldn't allow Beetee to drug her. Remembering too well the panic of being plunged into a state of dull lethargy that made me feel like I was sinking or even dying, I just could not allow someone to do that to my daughter. Although I trusted Beetee as a scientist, I didn't trust his understanding of human vulnerabilities to fear and pain. For all his strengths, Beetee demonstrated little capacity for true empathy.
After much deliberation, Katniss and I decided to allow only tests that we thought would not scare Gloria. Scared doesn't begin to describe what she sounds like now. Katniss is with her, and she promised me she'd tell Beetee to stop whatever he was doing if Gloria became afraid. Though I want to trust Katniss, I'm immediately angry that she hasn't kept her promise.
I rush toward the door of the room where I know Beetee and his team are conducting the tests. Before I can even reach the door, a dizziness that hasn't struck me in at least a year prohibits me from going forward. The sense of doom that I always feel when I'm on the brink of a major episode creeps into my chest. I lean against the wall and then sink to the floor to avoid falling. Darkness descends, and my ears ring. My head tingles. The frustration of being unable to stop what's happening to me only underscores everything the Capitol took from me with their drugs and torture. The only good thing they gave me, my daughter, is screaming for me to help her, and I can't.
/
Katniss:
"Sweetie, you are going to be just fine. You'll blink and it will be over," the woman with the needle tells her.
Gloria clutches her doll with the arm that they aren't trying to stick with the needle.
Beetee supervises.
Then Gloria looks up at me with doe eyes. I'm the only person she knows in the room, and I know she'd rather have Peeta here.
Amazingly, Gloria doesn't cry. After they stick her she's motionless and watches with wide-eyed fascination as her blood fills the little test tubes.
"Oh, you are so brave," the woman tells her. "The next part will be easy too."
The woman's prediction couldn't be more wrong.
We cross the room, and Beetee points out several machines used to scan the body. I'm familiar with them from when I was wounded during the war.
"All you have to do is hop up here, lie down, and stay still," the woman tells Gloria reassuringly while Beetee explains more about the complexities of the testing process to me.
"This takes a little longer than getting blood, but I know you can do it," the woman tells Gloria.
Once Gloria is lying down the woman pulls out some elastic straps and places them across her chest, hips and legs.
"These straps just hug you and make sure you don't forget to be still," the woman says.
Oh, this would kill Peeta, I think nervously.
Then Gloria starts to whimper. She glances back at me. I half smile, hoping to make this just a little easier for her. The machine makes a loud repetitive bumping noise, and Gloria's whimpers transition quickly into screams of terror. I rush to her, but the woman motions for me to stay back.
I hesitate, but then Peeta's words echo in my head. "Please don't let them hurt her," he'd said.
The desire to protect Peeta looms also though. What if she is a mutt? Could she be dangerous? What would it do to him to find out she had been altered somehow? Shouldn't he know now rather than later? After all, she's only scared. They aren't hurting her, are they?
She's screaming though. Hearing her scream makes me shudder.
Then I hear her scream for him.
"Pee-ta!" she screams over the bumping noise of the machine. "Pee-ta! Pweeease!"
My heart lurches in my chest, and I know I'm not keeping my promise to Peeta if I don't stop this.
"Stop. Just stop, please," I tell the woman over Gloria's screams.
The machine whirs more slowly before falling completely silent.
I free Gloria from the straps by myself, my fingers cold and numb which is exactly how I feel inside as well.
I promised Peeta I'd be here to make sure they didn't hurt her, and I let them hurt her. I hate myself.
"Katniss, if I may be so bold as to say…"
"No, Beetee, you may not. You can run any tests you want with that blood, but we are not agreeing to do anything else. Period."
I pull Gloria by the hand to the door planning to run away as fast as possible, but as soon as I swing it open I gasp.
Peeta's leaned up against the wall. His face is colorless, and his eyes look as though they don't see at all.
In seconds I'm on the floor in front of him calling his name.
"It's Katniss. Come back to me," I reach down to grasp his hands and try to pull them up to touch my face, but his muscles are rigid.
Oh, no. This is bad.
"Promised…" he miraculously whispers. His voice trails off. Then his pupils consume the crystal blue irises that normally bring me such peace, and I'm terrified.
I put my hands on Peeta's shoulders. The feel of his strained muscles under my hands reminds me of my bow when it's taut.
"She's alright, Peeta," I say, motioning toward Gloria. "I stopped them. I won't let them hurt your daughter, our daughter. Please, Peeta. Come back to me."
My eyes fill with tears. He hasn't had an episode in five months, and the last one was mild. They are never violent anymore, at least not toward anyone other than himself. What's so difficult about them for me is watching him suffer. This one looks more like the one he had about a year ago. It was long and awful for him, like a constant nightmare from which he couldn't be awakened. He stayed confused for days afterwards.
Gloria moves to the side of Peeta where she comes into my view again. Her blue eyes narrow as she observes him carefully. When she pulls on his sleeve and there's no response Gloria's face scrunches into an expression of worry.
"Pee-ta? Way-up," she says.
She drops to her knees, one of which is already covered with a little bandage from where she fell out of bed at the orphan's home. She puts her little hand on the outside of my thigh. Then she uses me as leverage to crawl over my arm and into Peeta's lap. She pulls on his shirt and whimpers. At first I think I should protect her by wrenching her away, but I can feel Peeta's muscles relax where I'm still holding him.
"Not like Mommy. Way-up. Way-up! Not go away! Not like Mommy!" she cries.
Mommy? Her dead Mommy? She doesn't know any other Mommy so that must be what she means.
"Gloria, Peeta's sick but he's not going away," I reassure her. Then I think maybe her Mommy had been sick too so I add, "He will be okay. I promise."
Gloria ignores me and presses the side of her face against Peeta's chest. The she cries softly while she continues to tug on his shirt. When I try to pull her away she cries harder.
Beetee mercifully comes to the door with his assistant.
The assistant tries to pry Gloria from Peeta, and she screams even louder than she did a few minutes ago.
"Leave her. Gloria's scared enough already. She needs to know that he's not going anywhere."
"Won't he hurt her?" The assistant says looking at Beetee.
Beetee looks at me.
"No, he won't. He actually relaxed a little when Gloria tried to comfort him. I think he knows she's there. Please just let them stay there together," I tell them.
/
Peeta:
I hear her, but I can't find her.
"Peeta!" She calls.
We never should have separated. Midnight is moments away based on my estimates, and I have to get to her to make sure she's safe. What if she's calling me because she's injured or one of the other tributes is attacking her?
"Peeta!"
I've been preparing to die since I heard about the reaping process for the Quarter Quell, and I made it my purpose to ensure that Katniss would live. I love her so much! I fear the boom of the cannon as I try to navigate the jungle terrain with my bad leg.
The boom from the lightning strike is even louder than the one that interrupted our passionate kisses last night. As the crackling of the strike continues, the arena sky ignites in a strange blue light. I'm thrown back and down from the force of something flying a part. The forcefield? I look up at the sky, the real sky. It's there.
What's happening? Where's Katniss? I have to get to her. She's calling for me to help her, and I can't get to her!
/
Katniss:
Gloria is screaming, still. I'm holding on to Peeta's shoulders tightly, not even attempting to reorient him. I hear Haymitch and Beetee, but I don't take in most of what they are saying. Haymitch kneels down behind me.
"Get up. Give Peeta some air," Haymitch tells me. "Take care of your girl. She needs you. Peeta would want you to comfort her right now."
Haymitch attempts to pull me back by my arm.
"Leave me alone! Let go!" I scream angrily as I yank my arm out of his hands.
I turn to Peeta, crashing into his chest. He doesn't react.
"Katniss!" Haymitch screams. "The girl's mother died of a seizure in front of her. Stop acting like a child and do something for her."
I don't register his words at first.
We shouldn't even be here. We should be at home in District 12. I hate the Capitol!
Seizure? Died? Her mother? Oh, no.
Haymitch pulls Gloria from Peeta's lap and holds her tightly. Though she shrieks and kicks her feet, Haymitch handles her with uncanny ease.
"It's all right. He's all right," he tells her. She cries more. "Peeta is fine. He's kind of sleeping, but he will wake up soon."
I've never heard Haymitch's voice sound like this. Perhaps this is the voice he used with his baby brother.
"Pee-ta," Gloria cries. "Pwease way-up ag-in!"
Glancing back at Haymitch, I see he's rubbing Gloria's arm reassuringly.
I just want to escape because it's too overwhelming – the feelings, the helplessness, the fear. I do know something about losing people. Too much actually.
The air is bitterly cold as I stand outside the entrance to the mine with my mother, Prim, and so many people that I know from the Seam. I shudder from both the cold in the air and the misery in my heart. Images of my father choking on dirt and dust flash in my mind. He's drowning in earth. A memory of a day when I dove too deeply into the depths of the lake invades my mind. I felt a hunger for air and a drive to breathe that made me suck in water. I coughed and sputtered when I reached the surface as my throat and lungs burned. My father held on to me with his strong arms while I shook with fear. I wonder if my father feels like that right now. Does it take longer to drown in earth than water? Does it hurt more? My heart is breaking for my father, who always makes me feel safe. I'll never feel safe again if he's gone, I know it.
Another elevator arrives, and I lean forward hopefully. My pulse quickens and the deepest longing I have ever felt rises up through me. If only I can see him walk out of the elevator every other problem in my life will be inconsequential. Then I see the miners. They are from another work crew, one that was far from the site of the explosion. My head falls forward involuntarily, and I feel my face crease with the pain of knowing that my father is still in the depths of the coal mine.
I can almost see my father being crushed by the walls of the mine. Straining against their weight he moans out his agony. They squeeze the breath out of him until he is defeated. I know what dying can sound like. I've seen excruciating pain play out many times on my own kitchen table as my mother nursed the dying with no means to ease their suffering. There was no means to ease suffering miles below the earth either.
Someone touches me. I look up and see our baker, Mr. Mellark. He's placing a piece of bread in my palm while patting the back side of my hand lightly. His kind eyes focus on mine and then move on to my mother's face. I squint in confusion, but mother listens to him intently. Then I turn and see his sons standing near-by. One is my age, I think. I've seen him in class. His eyes are like his father's but they flit away from my gaze.
Paramedics arrive at Beetee's urging.
"He has these episodes sometimes," Beetee mutters, "but this one seems very prolonged. His condition is well beyond my abilities to evaluate. His doctor is Dr. Aurelius in psychiatry at Central Hospital."
"We'll make sure they know that at the hospital. Clearly he needs medical attention," one of the paramedics replies.
They continue to mumble as I sob softly. When Haymitch leans against the wall for a moment I can see that Gloria has cried herself to sleep on his shoulder.
"Get up, Katniss." He implores me. "Really, get up. Let them look at him. You are making yourself look crazy."
I claw at Peeta's shoulders as waves of panic roll over me. Peeta usually anchors me. He chases the terror away, but in his emotional absence my sense of security fades. This is all too much. I can't control any of it. This place. These people. Our daughter. Her mother. Rules. Episodes. Death.
The paramedics try to get to Peeta.
"No! Don't take him! I can take care of him. Please! He hates it here. Don't take him away!" I scream.
"Sweetheart," Haymitch begins but then stops.
I see needles and vials of medication.
"No! Don't!" I yell. "Don't drug him! Don't hurt him! I promised. No needles. No hurting anybody."
I'm crying and screaming about love, venom, babies, and torture. Wrapping my arms around Peeta's neck I cling to him.
"I love you. I love you so much!"
Suddenly, I feel one of the paramedics hold my arm tightly. Instead of pulling it away, she holds it down. Then there's the sharp jab of a needle into my flesh.
/
I wake up on the sofa in Beetee's office.
Haymitch sits in a rolling office chair beside me, also sleeping.
I touch his knee, and he stirs. When he hasn't been drinking a pitcher of water is not required to rouse him.
As he wakes he stands up as if he's ready for a fight for his life though, wielding a knife he's not even holding. The office chair rolls away a few inches.
"It's just me, Haymitch. We're on the same side."
His expression is serious, disturbed.
"Where's Peeta?" I ask him.
Haymitch drops his arms from their fight ready position. Then he sits back down in the chair before explaining, "Peeta's at the hospital. Beetee's with him. He called me a little while ago and said Peeta is starting to wake up but is very confused."
"I have to see him," I say rising to my feet. As I do, I fall backwards onto the sofa.
That's right, they drugged me!
"Why did you let them drug me, Haymich?"
"I had nothing to do with it. You were hysterical and refused to get out of their way. If it wasn't for me you'd be at the hospital too, but I promised I'd keep an eye on you."
"Fine job of that you were doing," I goad.
"Yeah, that's right. Beat me up for trying to help you. That always works well for you, doesn't it?"
Haymitch glares at me.
Burying my face in my open hands, I whimper just a little. I miss District 12 and my woods. I want to go home. Why can't everything just go back to "normal?"
"Don't you want to know where your daughter is?" Haymitch asks cynically.
I startle and look up. The room spins.
Yes, I do want to know. I just hadn't thought of her…yet.
"Where is she?"
"Back at the orphan's home. I bet what happened to Peeta reminded her of what happened to her mother. She might be only three, but she's perceptive. She watched her mother die, Katniss. That's not something a child forgets."
I lower my head.
"Before today I didn't know how her mother died, Haymitch. How could I have known?"
"Regardless, you were thinking of yourself in this situation most of the time, not your daughter. You have to start thinking of her. It's time to do that."
I sit up straight and stare at him.
"I still don't want to be a mother," I admit. "Gloria is a sweet little girl, and I feel sorry for her. Truly, I do. But I'm not equipped to raise her. That's no secret. Why are you surprised that I failed her?"
"For the record, I don't believe any of that except that Gloria is a sweet girl, but there are people who would agree with you," he says. "There are people who think you are not going to take care of this little girl and are just dragging out this situation for your own benefit, for example. Your actions today won't help their opinion. It's likely they'll hear about them too."
There's an edge to his voice, a cautionary tone.
"What are you talking about?"
"I got a call this morning from the judge who was considering extending your permission to stay in the Capitol a little longer. He says he thinks you are stalling, Katniss. He thinks you have no intention of taking your daughter home or even making a decision about what to do with her."
"Stalling? Of course I'm not stalling."
"What you think doesn't matter. He's the one with the power, and he's sending you home."
My mouth drops open in shock.
"Back to District 12, with me," Haymitch adds.
"What about Peeta," I pause, "and Gloria?"
"Peeta can do whatever he wants to do because his travel is not restricted. Gloria has to stay in the Capitol because you two haven't made any official moves to take full custody of her through the court system."
"Peeta won't just leave her here. I know he won't."
Haymitch sighs and leans back in his chair.
"I think you may be right, especially now that she's seen what she saw today. He'll want to show her that he's well once he is well."
A sense of sadness overtakes me, and I'm afraid in a way I haven't been since before Peeta and I were married.
"That means he'll leave me alone instead," I whisper.
