I don't own Hunger Games.

CHAPTER 21

Bottom of the River

I'm trying to hold Prim still as I braid her hair. Her thick curls are tangled and she squirms in protest of my attempts to detangle them before braiding. I hush her and try and be gentle. Katniss, sitting right next to her, has become a pro at braiding her own hair and could do it in her sleep. Rodrick comes in, tucking his shirt down his pants in a rush.

"I'm late." He says quickly. "Gotta go." He gives me a quick peck on the cheek, whispers I love you in my ear, does the same for the girls, and then he's gone.

Katniss is off to school, Prim's hand clasped tight in hers, and I take up my knitting. I never thought I would knit, at least, not while I was still under forty, if only by a few years. But I do it to pass the time in between patient calls.

I sit in front of an open front door, watching the sun rise slowly over the wispy branches of trees. The clouds around it are stained red, the sky turned vibrant orange. I remember some old saying from worlds ago. Red in the morning, sailor's warning. Maybe that had some worth to seafaring people, but here in District 12, a red sky is only a pretty sight.

Time passes by slowly. A few patients show up, but I can't do much for them. A starving child, a frail elderly women, a bony women in a fitful sleep, there's nothing to do. Nothing to do but slowly ease them into death with the little that I have. By noon, I've seen four people into the endless sleep and knitted three pairs of socks for Rodrick. It's made of a warm, thick yarn that I once made into gloves for the girls. They hardly got to wear them because he was so enthralled by their warm depths. Maybe it's silly of me, but of the few things I can give to my husband, I'd like to think a pair of new socks is one of the nice things I can do.

I'm starting on a scarf when man named Cred from Rodrick's mining crew comes running up to the house. He's still in his mining clothes, coal dust staining them, sweat dripping down his olive toned skin. But his face is something I've only seen a few times. Pure, distilled terror.

"Mrs. Everdeen, you, you need to, you have to..." He starts stuttering so bad and I think he's shaking. I get up and wrap an arm around him.

"Cred," I say slowly. "Breathe. Come inside, I'll pour you some water, and we'll talk about whatever-"

"No, we can't!" He breaks away from my embrace. "We have to go to the mine. Now!"

"Why?" Confusion colors my words innocently.

"Mrs. Everdeen," He's in my face now, gripping my arms. "There's been, there's been... There's been an accident."

I can't really describe that feeling. The feeling of a wrecking ball tearing through the wall that you've carefully built, piece by piece, so delicate, just to protect the things you can't live without. Cred is talking fast now, telling me Rodrick and the rest of their crew are still in the mines and that they're pulling them out as we speak and I need to get there now, come on Mrs. Everdeen, hurry, we have to get there now! Are your daughters in school? Are they? Someone will send for them, don't worry, everything will be fine.

And I'm standing in front of the opening of the mine, alone and untouched. Families are huddled together, holding each other to give them strength. But I'm alone. The mother in me should worry, should think about my daughters, but I can't because that part of me is consumed by the torrents of the storm that is, where is Rodrick, where is Rodrick, give him to me, give him back to me, give me my Rodrick! Give him to me now!

Men come through the tunnel one by one, each a little more sweaty, a little more covered in dust, a little closer to passing out, but each alive and each gratefully received by mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, wives, and children. Suddenly, Katniss is holding my hand and Prim is holding the other. They're saying things, Prim is crying, but I can barely muster the strength to look down at their terrified faces. Katniss looks into my eyes and mutters something to quiet Prim, something coming into her face that speaks of suspicion, of questioning, of anger.

Why aren't you doing anything, Mama?

Why aren't you helping up, Mama?

Why did you let Papa go, Mama?

Why aren't you bringing him back, Mama?

These are no doubt her questions, because these are the things I'm asking myself.

I think I see Hazelle standing nearby, three young boys huddled around her. Her belly is so swollen, the doctor in me worries that the stress could trigger her labor. But the doctor in me is lost as well. Everything is lost except for one thought.

WHERE IS RODRICK?

There's a rumble beneath our feet and four men appear out of the mouth of the mine, coughing and dusting themselves, telling us that there's no one left. No sirs, I think I say. You're confused. My husband, my husband isn't out yet. My husband is still in the mind. Would you get him for me? My husband, he's still in the mine. My husband, my husband, he's in that mine, my husband's in the mine, get him out, get him out, get me my husband! My husband is still in the mine, go get him!

Hazelle is crying, weeping, embracing her children who are stunned into tears. Her husband is still in the mines as well. Excuse me sirs, you're not doing a very good job because you left two men in the mines. Katniss is screaming something, Prim is sobbing. People are whispering and pointing, some come up to offer help.

"Where's my husband?" I say, my breath falling short of my lips. "Where's my husband? Where's Rodrick?"

Cred appears next to me, tears in his eyes. Wisteria, I see this word on his lips. What does it mean? Wisteria. I don't get the chance to answer because I start falling. Cred reaches out and grabs me, but I'm still falling, I'm falling so fast. My hair shoots up past my face, my dress flying in the wind. I falling, falling, so fast that I don't think I'll ever stop.

As I fall, birds fly off past me, shooting like stars. Everyone I ever loved, they all fly away, giving cries of sorrow and pain. One bird, a black one with bright gray eyes, tries to get to me, but the wind fills his wings and he's swallowed by the darkness around me. Still, I feel him struggling to get to me.

Save me, Rodrick. Save me. This is all I'm thinking, because I don't think I have the strength to save myself. No, I know I don't have the strength to save myself. I never did, I never had to, Rodrick was always there, always ready to defend me, always ready to save me. But now, that's over. In my fall, somewhere along the flight, I hit water. Cold, painfully cold water that seeps into the pores of my skin and the crevices of my bones and pulls me deeper and deeper into it's embrace. I'm choking, I'm drowning, Rodrick, save me, take me in your arms and take me away form here, save me. But I've stopped hearing things as well. I'm as the bottom of this cold, painfully cold river and all that I am is cold and black. Cold and black. Cold. And. Black.

Hands touch me in the black. Voices, warped and garbled through the darkness, try to reach me. But nothing, nothing can save me. Because the one thing that could save me, the one thing that has ever been able to save me...

That thing is gone now. Gone, and I will never see it again.