Chapter 10: Asking for help

"Are you feeling any better?"

Peeta's question lingers in the air. Am I?

I feel a pressure in my chest that doesn't let me breathe properly. It's like when you fall down from a tree that you were climbing: when you meet the hard ground, the air escapes your lungs and never returns. Every attempt to inflate the lungs is like if all the people that died because of me –and that are a lot of people- were stabbing me at the same time. My throat feels sore; like it did after the hour I spent screaming because of the panic attack the jabberjays provoked on me.

I look around, searching for the happy and calmed face of my sister, who always knew what to do when a familiar of someone mom was treating started hyperventilating, but I can't find her. She's not here and she will never be, and I will have to keep going with the knowledge that they were my acts what killed her.

Am I better?

I look up after staring at the wall vacantly. Peeta's right in front of me kneeled on the floor next to Haymitch's sofa, in which I realize I'm curled up. He's looking me in the eye, still waiting for a response. His hands stroke my hair and he ventures down now and then to caress my cheek. I'm glad they are not hollow anymore. At least I don't need to be ashamed for that too. Haymitch comes through the door with a mud in his hands. The mug casts a hypnotizing mist. It must contain some warm liquid, an actual change in Haymitch's habits. "Here you are, sweetheart. A full mug of warm chocolate the boy brought to you" says Haymitch while he hands me the mug with a crock sided smile and a regretful expression. I've to be really fucked up if even he looks at me like that.

I take the mug in my hands, letting escape a soft moan when I feel the warmness. This makes the men look at each other and, like if there was something sorted between them, they start moving. "I'll take a blanket for you. It's freezing outside and you must be cold only in those shorts" says Haymitch, heading upstairs. "Yes" confirms Peeta. "I will light a small fire for you".

I look outside. It's summer, why should I be freezing? The night welcomes me through the window. The wind makes eerie noises. Apparently, I've been here longer than I thought.

"I'm not" I say out loud.

Peeta turns his head, staring at me like you'd stare at a ghost with a chocolate mug between its hands. He quickly gains control of his expression, turns to the fireplace and returns to his task lighting the fire. "You've been gone for several hours" he says finally.

I look outside, meeting the darkness again. It must be new moon today, there's no light at all.

"You scared me, Katniss. Fuck, you even scared Haymitch" He drops the lighter on the floor and rubs his golden curls. The wood piled in the fireplace starts cracking and the fire starts lighting the room, warming it slowly. It's not like in the winter months, but the temperature must have dropped severely since the morning. "It's cold" I state as a matter of fact.

Peeta sighs and stands up. I can notice a small limp when he does. He must be hurting because of his leg. He doesn't make any face, though. Slowly, he approaches the sofa and silently asks for permission. I make room for him next to me and he takes a seat. I almost have no space to move, but it's pleasant to feel somebody's heat in my flesh. I look at him, watching the fire make soft patterns on his face. His long eyelashes are shining and seem red spears pointing everywhere under the fire's light.

"The weather changed abruptly by the afternoon" He doesn't meet my eyes while he speaks. He's staring at the fireplace, watching the fire grow. He has his hands entwined in front of him. I could stretch my arm and place my hand upon his right knee to tear his attention away from whatever he's seeing inside the fire, but I don't. Instead, I take a sip from the mug. The chocolate is a bit cold by now, but it's still good. "Is it good?" he asks, this time looking at me. I respond with a nod while I take another sip and look at him from behind the mud. Peeta smiles at it. "I'm glad you like it. Haymitch made it by himself without burning anything on the way". I raise my eyebrows. Haymitch touching a casserole? That's new. "Yeah, I know. Hard to believe, but you had him really worried" he answers my mute question with a short laugh. The sight of our mentor worrying about something else than running out of alcohol is always something to behold. I let a small smile appear in my mouth. "You had me worried too"

I look down to the mug as if the chocolate grounds contained all the answers to the mess that it's our life. "I'm sorry" is the only thing I can say. I'm ashamed of myself for not being able to control my mood, but I just can't help it. It comes like a tsunami sometimes, devastating every happy thought I could hoard in my mind, making me reckless and filling me up with rage and tears. "It's not your fault. It happens to me too, more often than not".

What a mess we are.

It's looking at him in this right moment, bowed with his hands laced together probably for them not to shake without his consent, glistering under the sad orange light of the fire that seems to suit his mood, when I realize how much we need help. On our own maybe we could, with the years, reach a calmed numbness without drinking white liquor. But that would be it.

I don't know if he wants it, but I'm starting to think that I want to keep my promise and stay alive. I don't know if I want to be happy again –I don't even know if I will ever be able- but I've no more strength to be mad at the life. I've no more fire inside me anymore to stir the anger that crept up on me with Prim's death. She's gone and I can't do anything about that. I know. But I can keep eating –at least that's been pleasant lately- and I can keep breathing and, above everything, I can help him to do so. That's the last bullet against the odds I have in the chamber.

Together we are stronger. We always have.

While I was looking at Peeta, Haymitch has come down from upstairs with a blanket and placed it around me without a word. I leave the mug on the floor and grab him by the arm when he's about to leave. He looks at me in the eyes, surprised, but reads my resolve in them and smiles a bit. He always has understood me better than anyone else, and I'm glad for it. I place my right hand on Peeta's knee, startling him from his own thoughts. When I have his attention, I say "I'm not okay. I need help" And just like that, all the weight I've been holding by myself since the war ended lightens a bit.

Peeta places his hand on top of mine and smiles. Haymitch pats me gently on the shoulder with a nod.

I should have tried to hunt down a goose before.

Hello! Sorry for the delay, tons of work to do this week. Anyway, here you are. Thanks to everybody who is supporting this fic by reading it. The reviews are so very welcomed, so drop a line whenever you feel like it :)

By the way, I'm still looking for a beta. Any volunteers? ;)

Thanks again. Read you soon!