"I can't breathe." Delphi gasps, writhing against the ground.
"Yes, you can," Gale assures her, pausing from whatever he's examining. "Look at me. Yes, you can." He says, squeezing her hand as she sucks in a deep breath.
"The baby's deoxygenated. That's what's causing the discoloring. It's taking extra oxygen and making breathing difficult for her." He says quietly, softly enough that only I can hear. I'm half-knelt on the ground, my hands tugging at a tuft of grass. I'm not sure why Gale is explaining this to me, it's only making me feel worse. It takes a moment for me to realize that maybe he's just trying to assure himself.
I wonder how soon Peeta will be back. It was decided that he would go back to camp to receive Gale's bag. I argued against it, saying that I'm faster. Gale couldn't argue that, but we all knew Peeta was better at lying. If Chance or anyone else questioned one of us, Peeta would be the obviously better choice to come up with an explanation. And besides, someone had to stay with Gale here while we waited. I knew that Peeta would have been better to wait here, more comforting to Delphi just as he was to the morphling on the beach, but he was already off and running as I thought of this. As I watch her squeeze the coloring from Gale's hand, I wish I was doing Peeta's job instead.
"What are you going to do?" I ask shakily, but my voice is soft enough to reach only Gale's ear.
"I'm not sure." He admits, turning his neck to the side. "Her contractions are coming so quickly, but..." He trails off.
"There's so way for the baby to get out." I finish, realizing what he means. The baby can't be born without the proper amount of oxygen.
Delphi flops against the grass, breathing deeply. Her lips are pale, almost blueish, and her fingers shake. Deoxygenation is taking its toll.
I can tell as Gale watches her that he's trying to think of something to say, but nothing fills the silence besides her breaths. She's scared, though, I can see it in her expression. My mother used to say that the best thing you can do for a patient is comfort them. Talk to them, assure them if you can. And right now, Delphi needs reassurance.
"How old are you?" I ask suddenly, my hands shaking and my voice cracking. Gale looks at me, surprised, knowing I'm not one to start something like this. But I have to. I have to keep her here and breathing.
"Nine...teen," She says slowly, allowing for a breath between the syllables. She's younger than she looks. Her nails are purple, probably permanently dyed, and a striping tattoo extends from them up her arm. She's from the Captiol, I'm sure. But why? How? Now doesn't seem the appropriate time to ask, but I can tell Gale is itching for answers.
"Are you in school?" I ask softly, and she nods. I'm not sure what kind of schooling a nineteen-year-old would attend, but I do know that there are higher levels they can complete. I remember Cinna saying something about it.
"I wanted...to be a doctor." She says with a weak smile, and I force a smile too.
"You'd be a good doctor." I say, and she smiles again. This is good, smiling. She bites her lip, though, and I know that the absence of pain is short lived.
"Where's Peeta?" Gale asks, under his breath, but I ignore it. I stay focused on Delphi's eyes, blue with specks of purple that I know to be cosmetically enhanced. She watches me, too.
"Do you really lo-" But she's cut off as she lets out a loud screech of pain. I let her take my other hand, trying my best to appear strong for her. But I can feel my stomach churning with fear.
"Love him?" She finishes breathlessly, "Peeta, I mean?" She adds. Of course she knows us, she's from the Captiol. She watched the Games, probably even enjoyed them. And even though some old, small part of me wants to be angry, I'm not. She's innocent and in pain. I cannot blame her for anything now.
Suddenly, Peeta stumbles through the bushes behind us, bag in hand and chest heaving in exhaustion. He moved quickly, especially considering his leg. I smile as him to let him know I'm thankful, but it's small and he probably cannot tell.
Gale hops up immediately and plucks the bag from her. I stand too, leaving her on her own, but she nods to let me know it's all right. We form a small circle a few feet away as Gale digs through the bag.
"What are you going to do?" I ask after quickly filling Peeta in. Gale shakes his head. I'm asking that a lot today.
"I don't know. I...I don't think there's a way for me to deliver it naturally. But to do surgery here...I don't have the painkillers to do it here." He says.
"Then do it without." Peeta cuts in, his eyes wide in frustration. There's beads of sweat on his forehead and he still regains his breath.
"Are you crazy?" Gale asks, "She'd probably get sick from the pain. It's not an option."
"Then what are our options?" Peeta demands. He's angry, or maybe just upset. And I am too, to be fair.
"We could try to knock her out with some morphling soaked in a rag, but I'm not sure we'd be able to wake her up again." He says painfully.
"We've got to tell her, Gale. We need to let her decide." I say finally, but he's not sure, I can tell.
"Katniss..." He begins, but Peeta intervenes.
"She's right. It's her decision, her life. If she's going to die, let it be how she wants." Peeta says, and then turns to face Delphi before Gale can question it again. I feel sick as I follow him and slump down on the ground.
He explains everything to her, but my mind is numb as her hand shakes in Peeta's. But he doesn't quiver. He holds her hand tightly as she sobs against the ground, the pain and the choice and all of this taking her over. I turn away as she cries, as she shakes, as she chooses to stay awake.
And I'm not sure if I'm awake as I watch it happen, because it feels more like a dream than reality.
When Peeta holds down her arms.
When Gale slices her stomach open.
When she screams and chokes and begs for someone I don't know and never will.
When she looks at me with those eyes to plead for help.
When I can't do anything.
She only holds the baby for a moment before she dies, blood pooling around her. Peeta strips off his shirt for it, her arms weak around its tiny body.
"Luce," She notes with a weak smile, and Peeta nods, his eyes wet. I must be crying, too. But I don't, deserve to be. Peeta, and Delphi, yes. But not me. I should be stronger. But I'm not.
Peeta quickly slides his hand under the baby's head as Delphi's arms fall limp, examining the baby as his body shakes.
"She's beautiful," Peeta says softly.
But I have to look away. I cannot watch Peeta fall in love with this baby, this little girl. I've learned not to love fragile things. They only slip from your fingers.