Tiger Warnings: Flashbacks, delirium, mental breakdown (including brief mention of self harm) and brief description of an physical attack.
Haymitch and I are sharing a room for family members. There are two beds, but it still doesn't seem big enough. He hasn't showered for at least three or four days, and I'm starting to wonder why no one at the hospital stopped him from coming in, seeing as how he's a living-breathing bacteria transporting machine. He's also drunk. I haven't seen him drunk since before Katniss was hospitalized. I'm sure he has been drunk, but he just always came to see us at least mildly sober.
"You know boy, I always told her…" he slurs to me, chugging from his flask as he sits on his bed. "I always told her, she could live a hundred lifetimes and not deserve you."
"That's a horrible thing to tell someone Haymitch," I snap back. I miss Katniss. We haven't slept in the same bed in months. I've been sleeping on the couch in her room, and though I'm only three feet away, the distance seems impossible to close. Now, sitting on this small twin size bed, listening to the ramblings of a disturbed drunk, I miss the great space of my bed at home and the feeling of being tangled in my wife's limbs and hair.
"And then, you run off and marry her," he continues as if I hadn't spoken. "Run off and marry her, even though she was mentally unstable and I told you not to…I told you not to," he repeats staring off into space. "I knew this would happen you know." He's getting smug now.
"Knew what exactly?"
"That you'd slip." He's smiling. "That if you two got married, it wouldn't be long till you were lulled into a false sense of security. You'd think you were doing better, healing even. In reality though you'd both just be surviving a little bit better each day through a combination of complete dependence and nothing too terrible happening. You'd think you were safe or better and you wouldn't be as careful as you needed to be."
"Shut up Haymitch," I growl.
"Of course, maybe you did it on purpose. It seems so convenient. She's been saying no to kids for as long as I've known her, but here she is pregnant, because you chose to leave her that way. Because you just happened to forget to run a simple errand and some rain just happened to keep you both in bed for days and days and days. What luck for you. I never pegged you for a manipulator."
I'm so over come with rage, I don't registered what my hands are doing until my fists are pounding into his face. My heart is racing as blood spills from his nose. I feel something besides adrenaline coursing through me. Something familiar that is seeping into my brain like poison. My muscles tense as I sense the threat, its presence. Haymitch is letting out yelps of pain, trying to stop the flow of blood, and I hear footsteps coming from down the hall.
The train is taking me to that place. Images flash through my mind of people standing over me in lab coats, and I know the footsteps are people who have come to kill me. I lunge out of the door, and see a figure standing at the end of the hall. Upon seeing me the man whips around and locks the door he was standing in front of. I race towards him screaming hands out stretched to choke him. He's with the Capitol. He's trying to take her from me. He killed my family. He's replaced her with a mutt that I have to kill.
"Not real," he says to me firmly. I lunged for him. He dodges and manages to get past me. He's running now down the hall, and the door I left open, snaps shut, and with a click Haymitch and the man are now locked in a compartment leaving me in the hallway. I look through the window of the door the man had locked before running. I see her. Except it's not her. It's the mutt they replaced her with. It's awake and staring at me wide eyed and fearful because it knows that I know what it is, and that I'm going to kill it. I bang on the door.
"OPEN THE DOOR!"
"Not real Peeta!" it screams to me and I begin banging on it with my fists, hoping to break the glass. It keeps screaming, getting louder and louder over my pounding fists, "Not real! Not real! NOT REAL!"
"What did you do to her!" I holler.
"Nothing Peeta! I'm right here. It's me!" The thing is out of bed now approaching the door. It's wearing the same tank top and sweat pants she was wearing earlier, and I can see the beginning of a bump. If they took her what happened to the baby?
"What did you do to the baby?" I scream at it. It jumps and begins to cry, halting its progress towards the door, towards me.
"N-Nothing," it chokes out to me.
"LIAR!" I holler. "You're lying! You did something to it! You're not her! She wouldn't do this!"
"Do what?" it asks, voice quivering.
"Put our baby in danger like this! Refuse to eat, to talk about it! She wouldn't be so selfish as to put its life in danger! What did you do to her! To the baby!" The mutt collapses on the floor tears streaming down its face. It's got its arms wrapped around the fake baby bump. I let out a scream of fury and manage to finally break the glass on window in the door, when I feel the stab of a needle in my shoulder. I slump forward and the world drifts away from me.
I hear the muttering in my dreams. Not real, not real, not real, not real, not real. Over and over and over again. I see images flashing before me. Katniss turning into a tracker jacker and coming towards me. Katniss standing above me in a haze of silver begging me not to die. Katniss pushing me into the chemical ridden fog. Katniss crying over me, as my heart begins to beat again. Finnick looking over her shoulder, terrified. Katniss mercifully ending Finnick's life as the mutts pull him under. Her weeping face as Prim burns alive. I feel her body pressed against mine at night, clinging to me, begging me not to let her slip away. Real.
I become aware of the soft cushioning underneath me, and feel the warmth of covers pressed over me. The fabric is soft and smells clean. I burrow in deeper, not wanting to remember how I wound up here, but I hear the muttering again, coming from near by, and it sounds so distressed, my blood begins to pound again.
"Not real. Not real. Not real. Not real. Not real. Not real. Not real. Not real. Not real. Not real. Not real." It's a constant desperate stream, from someone clearly clinging to a semblance of reality and losing her grip. I open my eyes. I'm in a bed, lying flat on my back, sunlight drifting in from the large windows along the wall that runs parallel to were I rest now. Outside them I see a rows of trees and flowers occupying a courtyard along with a water fountain. The room itself has bookshelves and comfortable looking couches and tables. The walls are a soft off white that is clean, comforting and homey all at once. The bedspread is a deep blue, as is the upholstery on the couch and chairs and the table and books shelves are made of a dark wood.
I sit up a little and bring my hands to my forehead. I feel a growing lump on it and note how every inch of my body aches. I feel my hands, covered in bandages and become aware of a faint stinging underneath the sterile cloth. The images of shattering glass comes to mind. I must have cut myself badly. As I recall the image of the breaking glass, I also suddenly remember the screaming crying woman standing behind it, and begin looking around for her.
Katniss is lying on a bed between my own the wall of windows. Her eyes are closed and she's muttering, "Not real. Not real. Not real. Not real. Not real. Not real. Not real. Not real. Not real. Not real. Not real," over and over and over again. There are bandages covering her arms again and part of her neck. I see a light scratch mark on her face and realize her hands are once more occupying restraints. I sit up, my heart aching at the sight of her. I stand up and start to move towards her. I can't bring myself to touch her though. I remember the things I screamed at her. A deep sense of shames overwhelms and suddenly I feel like my limbs weigh a thousand pounds. I collapse into the chair next to her, and find myself unable to comfort her. I can't even control my own emotions. Instead I sit and rock back and forth on the chair next to her bed, crying uncontrollably, as her whispers fill the room.
"Not real. Not real. Not real. Not real. Not real. Not real. Not real. Not real. Not real. Not real. Not real."
AN: I am so sorry for the delay in update. This is most certainly the longest I have gone without updating. I feel horrible for leaving you waiting for so long! I got back from traveling and had to get over jet lag which was followed by having to move again, and my new place didn't have internet for a while because of a problem with the cable company. I was also preoccupied trying to find furniture and get things back on track with my job since I'm not traveling anymore. I'm back now though, still employed in a furnished home that even has internet (although no cable). Sorry for the delay and I hope you liked this chapter. This one I think is one of the better ones. Please leave a review, and I'll update again soon!