As the days go by, I start to come out of myself more and more. It is not easy nor is it fast, and at points it seems like as soon as I have a day where I feel almost normal the following one sends me back to a state where I don't want to get out of bed. Still, I know that I feel more of myself coming back, and by two weeks or so after my episode, I am feeling fairly stable.
After a lot of encouragement and negotiating from Peeta, I agreed to start talking to Dr. Aurelius twice a week again. I have to say that it is more helpful than I would care to admit. I know there is no real reason for me to be skeptical of therapy, it's just that I spent so much of my life trying to process things internally without discussing my issues with others, and a stupid part of me still wants to prove that I was right and I can handle myself. In reality, I haven't been succeeding at that for years now, and it's better for me and everyone around me if I talk to someone about it who can actually help. Peeta is absolutely thrilled that it seems to be working for me, as this is something he has been trying to convince me to do for such a long time. It is a testament to just how deeply good he is as a person that his reaction to me finally taking his advice and benefiting from it is to be happy for me rather than to just say 'I told you so'.
He hasn't pushed me at all to tell him what set me off or why I ended up in such a bad headspace, but I can only imagine he's curious, if only to prevent it from happening again. I still sort of feel like I owe it to him to tell him. He's so understanding, and I know he'd tell me everything I wanted to know if the roles were reversed. I've hesitated thus far, though, both because I'm worried he'll blame himself if he knows that even just one part of my anxiety that day was initiated by his absence, and also because the dumbest, most cowardly part of me is still hesitant to be vulnerable, even with the person who I trust most in the world. I've been sort of beating around the bush in my conversations with Aurelius about what exactly set me off, focussing more on how I felt and ways to get out of it should something similar happen again.
Apparently while I was out of it and Peeta was taking care of me, Effie called just to check in, and Haymitch told her what was happening. She has since called almost every day to make sure that I am alright, and has also sent me all sorts of "wellness" items that I do not need and almost certainly will never use. She frets a lot over the phone, and while it is overbearing at times I know that it all comes from a place of love, and as much as I might be annoyed in any given moment I really do appreciate having her looking out for me. Effie told me the first time I talked to her that she had called Annie, Johanna, and my mother to let them know what was happening and ask them to check in on me as well.
I've since heard from Annie a couple of times, and she was actually much more helpful to talk to than I could have ever anticipated. I underestimated just how much she could empathize with me, which was really my own mistake. Annie, like Peeta, didn't push me to divulge anything that might make me uncomfortable, but rather just listened to anything I wanted to share and offered up advice from her own experiences of episodes like this, experiences of which she unfortunately has far too many.
I knew things were bad for her after Finnick's death, but I don't think I ever fully conceptualized just how bad. She told me that for the first few months after his death, before she realized she was pregnant and was able to start taking care of herself for the baby's sake, she hardly ever left her bed at all. I feel really grateful and appreciative that she was willing to share this with me, and also feel a fresh wave of guilt at how absent I was towards all of my friends for such a long time. I wasn't doing well myself at that time by any means, but I still wish I had made some, even minimal effort to let people like Annie and Johanna know I was there for them. They deserved at least as much.
I haven't spoken to Johanna myself over this past week or two; apparently she called once while I was napping one afternoon, and Peeta spoke to her briefly. He tells me that she didn't have much to say, but that she seemed genuinely concerned about me and glad to hear that things seemed to be improving, even if she tried to hide it all under her usual use of sarcasm.
The only person Effie spoke to who we haven't heard from is my mom, and it hurts more than I would like to admit. I felt like a kid the time I had to double check with Peeta to make sure that he hadn't taken a call and forgotten to tell me, even though I knew already that would never be the case. I thought that things had improved between us when we talked in 4, and while I never expected anything close to a "normal" relationship with her, I did think that maybe the occasional phone call would be possible, especially if something was wrong. As much as I don't want to be, I'm hurt that she knew I had been struggling and didn't bother to reach out.
I know in my head that it was probably not out of malice, that she was probably busy at the hospital or struggling with her own demons, but my mind can't help but wander to bad places sometimes. I also know that the best thing for me to do would be to pick up the phone and call her myself. If I just talked to her, I might understand why she didn't reach out, or at least be able to explain how it made me feel. As much as I know I should, I can't bring myself to do it. It just feels like too much.
While the blizzard that trapped us inside has passed by now, the weather is still generally very cold, and snow still litters the ground. The conditions aren't great for hunting, and many animals are still in hibernation anyway, so I haven't been out much. There's not much reason to go, and I can tell that Peeta is still nervous about me ending up in any situation where he might not be able to find me and help me if I needed it, so I haven't really pushed it.
Instead, I've been spending a lot of time in town, particularly at the medicine factory. The first couple of weeks that it was operating I was too preoccupied with my worry about going to the Capitol to really check in regularly, but now I go over most days to see how things are going and consult on any plant-related questions they might have. I think it's helping me get out of my head to have some responsibility and routine. Even more than that, though, it just hasn't stopped making me happy each day to remember that the people of 12 have somewhere they can work besides the mines, somewhere that they can actually help people and feel pride in their work and themselves.
These thoughts are with me today as I sit with Leda, one of the managers at the factory who has taken on the role of leading the team that harvests for materials. I like Leda well; she's probably no more than five years older than me, and moved here from 13 after the war. She seems to be one of a relatively small group of people from 13 who harbor no ill will towards me for having killed Coin. She seems to be friends with Raphael, the senator for 12 who moved here from 13. We've never talked much about our pasts, but she's always been kind, dedicated, and eager to learn, and that's enough for me.
"I think we have just enough hyssop to start on cough medicine production this week," she tells me, reviewing the boxes filled with the plant that cover the table. I glance at the containers around us and then at my mother's plant book, trying to double check her estimate.
"That seems right," I say, nodding. "I can help you divide this all up into the right amount for each dose, if you want."
"That'd be great," Leda says with a smile. "Thanks!" We start working in a comfortable silence, separating the plants from their storage containers into smaller vials based on the dosages that will be needed to make the cough syrup. I really don't mind working in silence, but that small part of me that sounds like Peeta tells me to make some sort of effort, so I give my best attempt.
"When did you move to 12, Leda?" I ask, hoping it's an inconsequential enough question to start easy chit chat.
"About six months or so ago," she replies while continuing her work. "It took awhile for things to settle down enough in 13 for me to get formally discharged from my position as a soldier so I could leave. For a place so hell bent on organization, they were pretty much thrown in to chaos with Coin gone." At her words my gaze falls immediately back to the plants in front of me, and an uncomfortable feeling fills me. It's not guilt, not exactly; I don't think it is within me to feel real regret over having killed Coin after finding out what she did. It's just not an easy situation to navigate. Lena seems to notice my discomfort, as her already fair face pales even further, making the few freckles along her cheeks stand out starkly.
"Anyway," she says quickly, clearly trying to move past the awkwardness of the subject. "I had always wanted to live somewhere else, so I was happy to leave. I loved what little outdoor time I could get in 13, even if it was just going up for training. I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life exactly, but I knew that nothing I might choose would keep me in 13, not if I really wanted to be happy. 12 seemed like as good a place as any to come. Even though I knew it would be hard, I liked the idea of getting to help rebuild and really create something here. I never felt like I could leave a mark like that back in 13, you know? And the woods are beautiful here too. And then when I heard about the medicine factory, it all just kind of came together." I give her a small smile.
"That's nice, Leda," I tell her. "I'm glad you're here."
"So am I," she says happily, but then she stills a bit. She looks down for a moment, then tucks a strand of her reddish blonde hair behind her ear before looking up at me.
"For what it's worth," she starts slowly. "I never liked Coin. I think I saw what you saw, the injustices that were baked into the protocol in 13. I just didn't know what to do about it, or was too scared. There were a couple others like me. My family, for one, and a few of my friends, but we were really really outnumbered. I can't say that I blame everyone. When you grow up in a world where this sort of rigid procedure is the only thing you've ever known, it doesn't really make sense to question it. But a lot of people didn't respond well to everything getting shaken up with Coin's death. There was a lot of animosity towards anyone who people thought might have been a little too happy with the change. So, it made sense for us to leave, and to come here."
I feel anxiety and guilt rise in me at the thought that I might have put yet another group of people in danger without even knowing it. It's as if every time I think I've come to terms with the amount of damage I've put in the world, something else appears.
"I hope I didn't put any of you in a bad situation," I say. It's a weak apology, but I don't really know what else to say.
"Oh, no!" Leda says immediately. "No, don't regret it for a second. Like I said, all of us who felt that way were more than happy to leave. It's just...don't be surprised if most people from 13 don't like you, even years down the line. I like you, obviously, and I know first hand that you can trust Raphael, as well as anyone else in my family or his. But I would say to be wary of people from 13. They might not have your best interests at heart."
"Thanks, Leda," I say. "That's...that's good to know." The conversation finally turns to the small talk that I so desperately tried and failed to create. My thoughts, though, stay with what Leda has told me. It's weird to think about divisions still plaguing Panem. It shouldn't be surprising that there are still issues; we are only a year out from monumental change, and there is still so much that needs to be settled. Still, it's somehow both jarring that there is something wrong, and jarring that I could have ever assumed there wasn't.
Even beyond that, I think I always thought that the main source for potential anger about the changes in Panem would be the Capitol. I never really thought much about danger to the structure coming from 13, though I really should have. They were at it alone for so long, and even though there are lots of benefits to being unified, it's hard to give up your autonomy. It shouldn't be surprising to me that there are plenty of people out there who are still resentful of the change, and even more so of me for being the symbol of it all.
Leda and I part ways a few hours later, as she returns to the main hall to work and I leave for the day. I head toward the bakery, hoping Peeta can hand things off to Albie even though it's only early evening and come home with me, or at least that I can catch him for a break if not.
"Hiya Katniss!" Albie says cheerfully from behind the counter when I enter. I smile at the boy. It's hard not to laugh sometimes at his enthusiasm, but according to Peeta it makes him wonderful to work with.
"Hey Albie," I say, leaning against the display case in front of the counter. "How's things?"
"Oh, really good! We got a new wedding cake commission today that I'm really excited about. The couple is from District 7 like me, and they want it to remind them of home, so Peeta said he would let me help with the design!" Albie was grinning from ear to ear and practically glowing with pride and excitement. I can't help but feel myself warm too at the thought of Peeta making this boy so happy.
"That's wonderful," I say. "I'm sure it'll turn out great." I'm about to ask him where Peeta is when I feel a pair of strong arms wrap around me from behind.
"Pardon me, miss, but I think you're smudging the glass on that display." I turn around within his embrace to see Peeta grinning at me, and before I even get a chance to speak he brings his lips to mine.
"Oh I am so sorry," I say with a teasing smile when we break apart. "Where are you coming from? I assumed you were in the back."
"I had to restock on some of our decorating supplies, so I was down at the market," he says, gesturing to a bag he must have set on the floor before hugging me. "You coming back from the factory?"
"Mhmm," I say with a nod. "I was hoping I could convince you to head home with me." Peeta looks to his apprentice.
"How are things here, Albie?" he asks, checking in.
"Everything is good here!" Albie says. "We're almost sold out on most of our stock for today, so it's no problem for me to finish selling and then close up."
"You're the best," Peeta says, and the boy absolutely beams. Peeta takes a moment to store the supplies he bought in the kitchen, and then takes my hand and sets off with me back towards Victor's Village.
"So, how was work today?" he asks as we walk.
"Pretty good," I say. "I'm working with a girl, Leda, on sorting the harvests. I like her pretty well. She's from 13, and she told me some stuff that was sort of surprising."
"What?" Peeta asks, and I retell him everything I learned from Leda this afternoon about the state of life and opinion in 13. To my surprise, he seems even more concerned about it than I was. While I was worried sort of on an existential level about what this sort of unrest might mean for our new nation, Peeta seems to be genuinely stressed about our immediate safety.
"Katniss, if that's true then you need to be careful," he says warningly.
"Why?" I say, almost laughing. "I highly doubt that anyone would actually do anything. I mean, it's been a year. If someone was so angry that they wanted to take out a hit on me, wouldn't they have done it by now?"
"I don't know," he starts. "But I wouldn't be so sure. These sorts of situations can get worse over time. Anger ferments. If anyone in the broader government makes a decision they're unhappy with in 13, that unhappiness could be directed at you. It's unfair, but you're a vulnerable scapegoat for their problems."
I am silent for a moment as we continue to walk. As much as I don't want him to be, Peeta is probably right. It makes me angry beyond the real proportionate reaction. I should feel scared, maybe, or just frustrated that all of this hasn't come to a stop, but instead I feel angry at the situation, that after all of this time there are still these restrictions on my freedom.
"Well, I'm not changing anything I'm doing," I say defiantly as we walk into our house. "I know who I trust and who I don't. If they want to get at me they'll just have to outsmart me. Frankly, I'd like to see them try."
"I wouldn't," Peeta says, almost angrily. "I don't want to see anyone try anything that might put you in danger, and people form 13 are trained soldiers."
"Peeta you're overreacting," I say irritatedly. "I know how to handle myself. If something does happen, I can take care of it. It's not that big of a deal." I can see that Peeta is visibly distressed and I am confused. I don't know why he's reacting so strongly to this.
"It's just - you don't get it!" he says, running a hand back through his hair, as he often does when he is stressed or frustrated.
"What don't I get?" I ask, indignant.
"That I can't lose you, Katniss!" he shouts. He then pauses for a moment, and when he speaks again it's at a much lower volume. "I almost lost you two weeks ago. I didn't know what to do to help you, to bring you back to me, and I was goddamn terrified. You're right, I am probably overreacting. But any possible threat to you seems like the end of the world to me, because losing you would be."
He looks down at his feet, clearly ashamed at his outburst. I feel my chest tighten with guilt. I hadn't fully realized just how much of a toll my episode had taken on him. This man does everything to try to take care of me, and the thought of me not even caring about my own safety is too heartbreaking for him.
"Oh baby," I say, walking over him to envelop him in my arms. "I'm sorry."
"No, you don't need to apologize," he mutters into my shoulder. "You're right, you can protect yourself, better than anyone I know. I shouldn't worry, I just...do."
"I worry about you too," I say. "So much." He tightens the hold of our embrace and I return it.
"I'm sorry," Peeta says sadly, even though I have no idea what he has to be sorry for.
"Why? You have nothing to apologize for."
"I don't want it to sound like I don't trust you. I do trust you. More than anyone or anything else in the world. It just makes me scared out of my mind that I don't always know how to protect you. After everything we've gone through, it's so ingrained in me that if I can't protect someone well enough, I'll lose them. It happened with my family, and with so many others. Seeing you in so much pain and not being able to do anything...I didn't know what to do." His voice breaks on the last sentence, and when I tilt his head up to look at his eyes, I see that they are glistening with tears.
"Peeta," I whisper as I tuck a loose curl behind his ear. "Come here." I take his hand and lead him with me to the couch. I sit first, and when he sits down I pull his head into my lap and begin running my fingers through his hair. He does this so often when I am upset or lost, and it's soothing beyond belief. I can only hope that it does the same to him.
"Listen to me," I say in a gentle voice. "I'm not leaving you. Ever. Not if I can help it. I'm so sorry that what happened scared you, and I wish I could promise that it won't happen again, but I just don't know. What I can promise, though, is that you are not responsible for any of it. You brought me out of it, not into it." I pause for a moment, just listening to him breathing and memorizing the feel of his hair in between my fingers. "Would it help you if I told you what I was thinking? How I got into that situation in the first place?" Peeta turns his head to look up at me, his eyes wide.
"Katniss you don't have to," he says insistently. "I can only imagine that whatever it is would be hard for you to talk about, and the last thing I want is to put you in a bad place again." I shake my head.
"No, it's okay. It is hard, but I'm okay. I'll be fine." He takes one of my hands in his own and kisses it.
"You're the bravest person I know," he whispers against me.
"Nonsense," I say in a soft voice. "That's you."
"We'll have to agree to disagree," he says, and I chuckle a bit.
"I guess so," I say with a smile. "Now, let me tell you what happened."
Peeta and I remain in our spots on the couch for a long while as I go over everything that led me to my breakdown in Prim's bedroom. I tell him about my misplaced anxiety over him leaving, the way that the heavy snow somehow brought me back to the fear of mine cave-ins. Of course, I had to stop him apologizing when I told him this. Eventually he seemed to accept that it wasn't his fault. I told him about my foolish attempt to find grounding out in the snow, and how it just brought my thoughts to Prim, eventually leading me to end up in her room. He holds me as I tear up recounting everything I saw in her room, and how much guilt I felt having left her things abandoned. I do my best to describe the blinding rage that was induced by the Capitol quilt on her bed, and then the crushing sadness I felt once it was done.
In retelling the whole process to him, I find a strange sense of relief. There is catharsis to not holding it all in anymore, and also a sense of healing to know that he understands, and that I'm helping him feel more secure by letting him in. We are helping each other, protecting each other, as we have always done. The methods are just changing with time.
Feeling the emotional toll of our conversation, Peeta and I eat dinner and head up to bed soon after. We don't say all that much, both tired and spent, but we hold each other nearly constantly. As I settle into bed for the night, I lay my head on his chest, hooking one of my legs over to intertwine with his. He runs his hand through my hair and holds me to him close.
"I love you," he whispers as he turns off the light on his bedside table.
"I love you too," I reply, placing a kiss on his chest before settling back in. As I close my eyes, I listen to his heartbeat and try to think of nothing else. The rhythm is soothing and comforting, a tonic to me that is unmatched by even the strongest sleep syrup. Sleep takes its hold on me, and I feel nothing but calm.
That changes, however, when some hours later we are awoken with a knock on the door.