Author's Note: I'll try to update more frequently but I'm still very busy with school! Thanks for the reviews though, keep them coming. :) x
My Unintended: Chapter 10
Some people say that when you're dying, you'll see your life flash before your eyes. You'll relive every moment, from the happiest to the most painful. And then you'll die.
It's like that when Peeta and Delly catch Haymitch and I in an uncomfortably close position for a mentor and his Tribute. I can see the spectrum of emotion working its way across his face, and I can tell that he isn't exactly over me, not how I thought he'd be. I see the boy throwing me the bread, protecting me in the Arena, proposing to me on live television, strangling me because he was hi-jacked…
Of course, I didn't want him to find out about Haymitch and I, not like this. Not with his hands on my chest and my tongue in his mouth. I can see the shock and disbelief first. It shifts into sadness and finally into uncharacteristic anger. It's like part of hi-jacked Peeta emerges, but it's not hi-jacked Peeta - it's just Peeta, livid and betrayed. All I can do is stand as shocked as a deer caught in headlights while Haymitch clutches his head in his hands and Delly uncomfortably twirls her long yellow braid around her finger, awkwardly out of place amongst the other three of us. I try to prepare myself for a verbal beating that I more than deserve.
"How could you do this?" Peeta whispers, beyond upset, but it's not me he's looking at. "Haymitch, how could you take advantage of Katniss like that? You know she's been vulnerable ever since…" His voice trails off, and I'm even more shocked, if possible.
Haymitch fixates on Peeta with a steely gaze but says nothing. His dark, tousled curls mask the look in his eyes, but I can almost feel the pain and guilt.
"It's not his-" I start, but Peeta cuts me off before I can slip out the words he knows I'm going to say.
"It is his fault, Katniss. Don't defend him for taking advantage of you. Is he drunk? Did he get you drunk?" Peeta asks anxiously, stepping away from Delly and hopping into the wide window so that the three of us are in dangerously close proximity of each other.
"No!" I shout. "Who do you think I am, Peeta? I was talking to you earlier today. You know I'm fine. I can make my own decisions."
Peeta's quiet, his blue eyes surveying the situation. Two people have obviously been living here for quite a while.
"So when were you going to tell me?" he says, trying to sound emotionless. But I can hear the hurt, and it's killing me.
"When were you going to tell me about Delly?" I shoot back without thinking. Oh, no. I'm messing everything up. I always do. Delly, a perfectly nice girl, tears up from outside the window.
"That's different. You know it is. He's…He was our mentor," Peeta stresses. "And now you're his girlfriend?"
I'm at a loss for words. I'm not his girlfriend. Am I? What am I to Haymitch? The only girl in the world he wants? The mentally unstable girl he was forced to take care of that became something more to him? Or just the Tribute he mentored? My thoughts are overloading me and I can't think clearly.
Haymitch cuts in, detecting the confusion, anger, misery, and self-loathing plastered on my visage. "Peeta, I'm sorry," he says solemnly. "You weren't supposed to find out like this."
"Was I supposed to find out at all? How long were you guys going to keep this a secret from me?" Peeta questions us, now sounding more hurt than angry. "I thought we could trust each other, after all we've been through."
"I'm sorry," Haymitch repeats. He's almost never sorry. Peeta has to know that this is genuine.
Apparently, he doesn't. Because in an extremely abnormal maneuver, Peeta Mellark of all people raises his fist and thrusts it in the direction of Haymitch's jaw. Haymitch, of course, is quicker and cleverer. I watch in disgust as he expertly dodges the blow so that Peeta's fist slams into the wall with a resounding crack.
"Enough!" I scream. "You guys can't argue. You just can't. This is all my fault. If you need someone to be mad at, be mad at me. Come on, Peeta. Punch me!"
Delly nearly faints and Haymitch staggers to his feet, runs in front of me, and grabs me in his arms. Peeta shrinks back, finally coming to his senses, and clutches his throbbing fingers in retreat.
"That's what I thought," I say more evenly. "Peeta, let me fix your hand. I have some splints in the bathroom."
"I don't want your-" he begins, but this evening is full of interruptions.
"I didn't ask," I growl, and pull him towards the bathroom. "Haymitch, give Delly some brandy to calm her down."
He's on it right away. No one's questioning me, not when I'm in survival mode, though I can see Peeta's expression flicker with disgust at the mention of alcohol.
In the bathroom, I find some metal splints and gauze and try my best to tie them up over his fingers evenly. Then, I find an ice pack, wrap it in a thin cloth, and hold it over his swollen hand while he refuses to make eye contact with me.
We sit in a thick, awful silence until I say, "I'm really sorry, Peeta."
He doesn't speak, but nods.
"I didn't think you'd mind, really," I continue cautiously. "I just didn't want to say anything because - well - our history. I thought it wasn't something we should talk about. Like how you never told me you were seeing Delly, not explicitly. I just knew. But we were still really good friends. And I still want to be friends with you. I can understand if you don't want to be. Hear me out, though. I really care about you. So does Haymitch. I'm not sure how this happened, but we still firmly believe that you're too good a person for the both of us. Please, please find it in your heart to tolerate us. To be the amazing friend to us you always have been."
"I'm sorry, Katniss," Peeta says shakily, "I don't think I can. He's our mentor. He's more than twenty years older than you and he's an alcoholic. This can't be good for you. It just can't. And I can't let it go on."
Now, I'm angry. He can't control my life like this. "Do you think I'm incapable of handling myself?" I nearly shout. "Do you think I'm too weak? Do you think I'd ever let him take advantage of me?"
"You're hurting, Katniss, and you're not thinking clearly. Have you been talking to your doctor?" he asks, his tone more concerned.
"So that's it," I say roughly. "You think I'm crazy."
"No, Katniss!" Peeta insists. "I think you're making a mistake. You need to let me help you. Please." He sounds desperate and scared, but I'm too mad to give a damn.
"I'm perfectly capable of making my own decisions. I would be crazy right now if it weren't for Haymitch! Can't you see that living with him these past few months has helped me? All of the times I visit you at the bakery I've been happy and almost back to normal, and it's because of him," I explain heatedly and impatiently.
"I could've been the one to help you," he whispers dejectedly.
"You were once," I reply coldly. "But people change."
He gets up and storms out, but not before he swears, "I'm not going to let this go on."