The Hunger Games in Peeta's Point of View
A message to Ari, who left a review but I could not reply to: I didn't leave the rooftop scene out? It's in Chapter Fifteen I believe! Feel free to message me :)
Chapter Twenty One
I lie for a while covered in a mud, as pain builds in my body. My leg is the worst, where Cato sliced me with his sword. There's hot pain searing in the flesh whilst the stings on my neck and chest get more and more painful with each passing hour. Eventually I think I pass out from all the pain.
I fall in an out of consciousness multiple times, watching the light fading from the sky. My lips feel cracked and my entire mouth is dry. I try to roll over, knowing that the stream is not far from me. I try to lift my torso from the ground, and continue trying. I have to purse my lips tight to stop myself from whimpering like a wounded animal. I give up after some while because it is no use. I've lost all of my strength and most of my body is throbbing in pain. I'll try again in a few hours perhaps.
I don't try again. I can't move in a few hours, or a few hours after that. I have no idea what is happening to my body, only that it is bad. Very bad. I stare up at the stars of the arena and wonder how long it will be until I die. How long can I last here in this mud? Maybe until it's down to the last Tribute and they hunt me down. I laugh to myself, my chuckles evolving in to full scale hysterical laughter.
My thirst is the reason I stop. It starts to hurt.
More sleep, less movement. Mouth is still dry, lips are still cracked. I open my eyes when I hear the anthem play. There were no deaths today, but I don't know how many days or deaths I've missed. The anthem brings me back to some kind of awareness of reality. Katniss, is she alive? She has to be alive. Otherwise I might as well use the last of my willpower to just keep rolling until the pain either kills me or I roll up to another Tribute. But no, she has to be alive. She's stronger than me, faster than me. She isn't lying somewhere like I am, dying slowly. I sigh and close my eyes, willing unconsciousness to take me again. This time, I wish it would keep me.
It doesn't. I have no concept of time, no idea how long I sleep or how long I manage to stay awake. The pain seems to dull, but I don't know if that means it's becoming less painful or my body is just starting to numb. I think the latter is more likely because I'm aware of just how bad my wounds are. They're not something you recover from by lying in the mud for a day or two or maybe more.
There's a blast from far off that sounds different from the usual canons. Another blast follows it, but not quite as loud. Definitely not a canon; canons are always the same sound with no alteration in volume. Explosion? That doesn't make sense.
My stomach rumbles, and it aches a little. I haven't eaten in a long time, nor have I drunk anything. I should probably try to rectify that. Maybe if I can just roll over to the stream, I just have to use all of my strength and ignore the pain. It shouldn't be that hard. I can do this; of course I can do this... I don't even get as far as an inch because my body is completely unresponsive.
Once again I give up and lie back to stare at the sky. It looks like afternoon. Another blast distracts me. No, this is a canon for definite. Katniss? No, I refuse to believe she's dead. I refuse to believe I have failed to protect her.
I lie awake for the rest of the afternoon and evening, unable to fall into my usual breaks of unconsciousness. I think a large part of me knows it's because I need to see the Anthem, make sure it's not Katniss' canon that went off. Finally the seal appears in the sky, the anthem playing across the arena. The boy from District 3 and the boy from District 10. Not Katniss. I allow unconsciousness to take me once more.
I wake again the next day, at least I think it is the next day. No more hunger pains in my stomach, more sharp pain in other parts of my body. Why won't death just take me already? I want all of the hurting to be over, all of the not knowing. Once more I drift away into sleep, and for the first time since camouflaging myself I actually dream. Katniss is wearing a red plaid dress and her hair is in two braids, but she isn't five years old. It's the Katniss I know now, a smile lighting up her face as she holds a hand out to me.
"Come with me Peeta. It's okay." I want to, oh how I long to get up and take her hand. But I'm stuck in place, laid on the ground. When I don't move she runs over to me instead; I'm surprised when she leans down and kisses me gently.
Trumpets. They bring me up from the sweet, happy dream. Trumpets mean an announcement, a change in plan. I open my eyes to look at the sky, to make sure it's not my imagination. Claudius Templesmith's voice booms over the arena for all to hear, congratulating the six of us that remain. Six. Surely Katniss is in that six. God, I hope so. He continues talking, something about a rule change. He has my full attention now, as much as my almost deluded mind can give him. Both tributes from the same District can be declared winners if they both survive. There's a pause before Claudius repeats the rule change. I stare up at the sky with a frown, taking a moment to comprehend what he is saying.
"Peeta!" Was that my imagination again?
The realisation clicks in my fuddled brain. If Katniss and I are the last two surviving, we can both walk out of here.
"Katniss!" I cry out her name on impulse, in response to what could just be my imagination. Will she come for me? Will she even be able to find me? But of course, this is Katniss. The Hunter Katniss, the Katniss who tracks down animals to feed District Twelve. I'm certain she'll be able to track me down from the last time we saw one another. I just have to lie in wait.
But it is night now; she won't track me at night. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, she will find me.