Chapter Thirty-Five: In the News
The trouble is that once you see it, you can't unsee it. And once you've seen it, keeping quiet, saying nothing, becomes as political an act as speaking out. There's no innocence. Either way, you're accountable. – Arundhati Roy
It's enlightening how relieved I feel after saying those three simple words to him. It's as if it'd been a secret I'd kept hidden from myself, and now that it's revealed it seems like the most obvious thing in the world. Of course I love Peeta. How could I not?
It's not a question anymore of whether I want to be with him or if he wants to be with me, but of how I could ever go on living life without him. All this time I'd been blinded trying to see why he loves me that I'd failed to realize how easy it is to fall when you have your eyes closed. They're fully open now, though, and gazing directly into the wide blue eyes of the compassionate man whose arms caught me without hesitation.
Confusion takes over, however, when he flits his eyes away from mine and knits his brows together as if troubled by my words. For the life of me, I can't understand his reaction. My gut twists unpleasantly as the blood drains from my face, and for a split second I want to take the words back.
I can't, though.
I won't.
Just as I'd declared I would never admit to anything I'm uncertain of, I won't revoke anything I genuinely mean, either. I watch him open his mouth to say something, pause, and then chew on his bottom lip as if carefully contemplating his next words.
I don't want careful words, though. I want to know what he's really thinking.
"Well…?" I raise my eyebrows as he looks at me again.
"Katniss…" he begins softly, tucking a wet tendril of hair behind my ear. He hesitates for a moment as his hand moves to my face, and I have to keep my eyes from fluttering shut as his thumb lightly brushes the contour of my cheekbone, wiping away whatever wetness remains of my tears. "Please don't say it back because you feel obligated, okay? I don't want you to say anything you don't mean. I'm sorry if you felt pressured because I said it to you… and after everything that's happened tonight—"
"I haven't said anything I don't mean, and I don't feel pressured at all," I quickly cut him off. My eyes narrow when he arches a brow as if skeptical of my sincerity. "What. Do you think I'm lying?"
Peeta holds my gaze for a moment, and I can't help noticing the deep line forming between his eyes and the dark circles beneath them. He's obviously more worried and exhausted than he's letting on.
Then again, it's been a long, stressful week for both of us, and it doesn't appear to be getting any better. I long for the day when there isn't a dark cloud looming over us. I don't wish for a fairytale ending or a life full of sunshine, I just want things to be… normal. Boring, even. Is that too much to hope for?
"I'm not saying that, but I think you're telling me what I want to hear. It isn't necessary, okay? You're here because I need you to be safe and, hopefully, happy. I don't expect you to automatically return my feelings or anything. I don't expect anything more than I did before you came to live with me. It's not like that…."
I shake my head, feeling frustrated to the point of speechlessness. Does he not realize how hard it was for me to actually say those words to him? How can he think I'm being dishonest? How can he shrug it off as if I only said it as some sort of misguided show of gratitude? I can tell by his heavy sigh and the way he drops his hand from my face that he's aware he's touched a nerve with me. I don't know which annoys me more – Peeta insinuating that I'm lying or the fact that he doesn't believe that I love him.
"Again, Peeta, I'd never say it if I didn't mean it. I've told you that before. How would you feel if I called you a liar when you said it to me?" Guilt hits me full force as I realize that's exactly what I'd done to him. I close my eyes and rub the bridge of my nose with my thumb and index finger, waiting for him to point out the obvious about what I'd just said.
"You have," he states as I'd expected, with a hint of humor in his voice.
"Well, I was wrong. And so are you right now," I mumble. "Believe it or not. Whatever. But it's the truth… and I thought you'd be happy about it."
His breath tickles my ear and causes goose bumps to prickle my skin as he leans down and whispers, "Hearing you finally say those words to me… it's honestly the most beautiful, surreal thing I've ever heard in my life, Katniss. Of course I'm happy about it."
Before I can object or even open my eyes, he wraps his arms around me, bringing me into a cradling embrace once more, and as he begins to slowly rock me back and forth while planting sweet kisses on the top of my head, I feel whatever annoyance I had slip away in an instant. I still have an urgent need to prove I'm being completely honest, though. I bring my lips to his chest, placing an open-mouthed, lingering kiss on his warm skin as I inch the palm of my hand down his torso, stopping right above the waistband of his night pants and slowly drawing my fingertips in and out upon his stomach. He sucks in a breath but remains silent, only showing his approval by caressing my lower back.
"I'm pretty sure I have for a while," I murmur as I lean my forehead against him.
"It's just… earlier today you didn't even come close to saying it back. So… why now?"
"For one, seeing your life flash before your eyes kind of forces you to rethink your priorities," I answer with a shrug, turning my body towards him and wrapping my legs around his waist. I brush my fingertips lightly against the middle of his back as I lean forward and kiss his chest again. "And… I just thought you'd be long gone by now, after everything I've told you… and all you've seen. I didn't say it earlier because I wanted to be sure, but that doesn't mean that I didn't feel it. What I admitted has nothing to do with obligation, Peeta. I told you because I thought you should know. Because it's the truth."
"I'm not going anywhere, Katniss. Especially after all you've told me and what I've seen," Peeta replies pensively. "And I believe you. I just wanted to make sure…."
I lay my ear against the middle of his chest and listen to his heartbeat thumping fast and loud, drowning out the screaming doubts and fears that fill my mind. Being in his arms like this, I feel safe and content and every worry I have seems so distant. I know better, of course. I'm sure I'll pay dearly for what I've done tonight, but I don't want to think about it right now.
I don't want to dwell on how all of this will eventually come crashing down upon us. I just want to enjoy the circumstantial miracle that has allowed me to feel his warmth and touch again.
For a little while longer, I want to cling to the tiny spark of hope that Peeta's right and maybe, just maybe, everything will turn out okay in the end.
"It's just… no one else has ever—" Peeta abruptly cuts himself off, and I feel every muscle in his body tense. He releases a deep breath and relaxes once more as he kisses the top of my head.
"No one else has ever what?" I ask, confused and curious about what he'd started to say. I can tell by the tone of his voice and the way he'd gone rigid that it was something important. But if he's never had any other serious relationships, why would he be so startled that I'm the first girl to say those words to him?
"It's nothing," he says.
"Peeta, I know it wasn't nothing. You're avoiding my question."
He releases a deep breath and brings a hand up to scratch his head. "Katniss…" he begins hesitantly, and I notice that all the humor has left his voice. In a quiet, almost whispering tone, he continues, "Would you believe me if I told you that you're the first person to ever say those words to me?"
"No, I wouldn't. Of course not," I answer in disbelief. He has to be lying. Hell, even Snow said he loved me. I find it hard to swallow that no one has ever said it to Peeta. I just can't imagine this being true since he says it so freely to me, and is the most affectionate, kind-hearted boy I've ever met. I pull back and look up at him with a frown, searching his face for any sign that he's joking, but from the tensing of his jaw and the wistful look in his eyes, I know he's not. Still, it's too sad, too unthinkable, that I continue to ask, "What about your parents, your brothers, friends…? Someone had to have said it to you at least once before."
"Nope… never. At least not that I can remember," he answers softly, forcing a smile as he slides his hands down my arms. He shrugs and avoids my eyes as our hands finally meet and I entwine our fingers. "I mean, I'm positive my dad loves me… it's always been implied. He says he's proud of me and, you know, other encouraging things, but… I don't know. I don't recall the actual words being said. And you know my mom is colder than the North Pole, of course she's never said it. I… it's not important, though. All that matters is now, right?" he finishes lightheartedly, planting a quick kiss on my forehead.
I can't accept this, though. I feel frustrated and indignant for him. I remember the sweet, blushing, curly haired little boy from when we were children and it makes me seethe knowing that he grew up never hearing the words 'I love you'.
"It is important, Peeta," I counter heatedly, shaking my head. "That's… wrong. You are the most lovable person there is and you should have heard it every damn day of your life!"
He looks at me with wide, surprised eyes for a moment, obviously startled by my outburst, before shrugging as an impish grin transforms his features.
"Well, you know, I do have a lot of days left to hear it," he winks, bringing my hands up to his lips and kissing them.
"And you will," I reply strongly.
He raises his eyebrows and gives a short chuckle, "Is that a promise… or…?"
"Yes."
And before he can reply, I lean up and capture his lips with mine.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I savor the delicious taste of him, minty and sweet, and the feel of his warm lips, so plump and perfect, moving fluidly against my own. Feeling a little brave, I capture his top lip between mine and flick my tongue against it. In turn, he runs his own tongue along my bottom lip and envelops it with his mouth, giving a deep, throaty groan as our kiss begins to deepen.
He slips his hand beneath my shirt and moves his fingers tentatively up my torso, stopping right between my breasts where he lays his palm flat against my chest to feel my heartbeat. I ache to feel his touch, however, so I place my hand over his and move it to cover one of my bare breasts. He squeezes it gently, causing a breathy moan to escape me without volition as electricity shoots to every nerve ending in my body.
He grins against my mouth as his thumb caresses my nipple, and I arch into his hand, feeling warm, wet and tingly down below. I find myself wanting him to touch me more intimately, the way we had in the car earlier today, but I'm also scared of it going that far… especially since there's nothing besides ourselves to prevent us from going further.
I wince slightly from the ache in my ribs, but the pleasure of the moment overpowers the pain, and I don't want to stop. His lips eventually leave mine to trail open-mouthed kisses down my neck, and despite the pulsing between my legs, the delightful chills taking over my body, and my heartbeat thumping wildly, I still find myself blurting, "I just don't understand. If I had a kid, I'd make sure they knew I loved them every chance I could get, in every way!"
I feel Peeta smile against my skin as he murmurs in reply, "And you'd be a wonderful mother."
"I was being hypothetical," I state quickly, my face heating up as I realize what I'd said and what it implied.
"I was, too," he says with a small laugh before planting one last lingering kiss on my neck. With a sigh, he pulls back and looks at me with dazed eyes and a smile that causes butterflies to flutter in my stomach. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. Besides, I can't really imagine anyone else I'd rather hear say those words to me for the first time than you. It's… perfect. I'm happy it turned out this way."
I nod and give a small, nervous smile. From the way things are going, I know we could very easily get carried away, but as much as I long for more of his touch, I also know we need to get some sleep. Prim will be up early in the morning after all, and even if she's trying to act like tonight didn't have any effect on her, I know she'll need our company, even just as a distraction. I don't want her to dwell on what she'd seen. She's too young to carry around those demons, and I don't want her to come to resent me for causing them and not being there for her afterward.
"Anyways, we should probably try to get some sleep now. It's been a crazy exhausting night," I remark with a yawn, and he nods in agreement.
As I remove myself from his lap, my gaze drifts downward and I can't help noticing the obvious reaction his body had to our kiss. His night pants don't do a thing to conceal it. I'd felt the hard lump against me, of course, but it's another thing entirely to actually see it. I don't know whether to feel mortified or flattered.
I quickly look up at his face and roll my eyes at his raised eyebrows and knowing smirk. "Whatever, Peeta. You have no shame."
He laughs and shrugs, and with a wink he turns to click his bedside lamp off, causing the room to turn pitch black for a moment as my eyes adjust to the darkness. I feel for the edge of the covers, and once beneath them, reach out to find Peeta's body. I snuggle against him, making his chest into a pillow as I rest my head upon it. He embraces me in his arms and kisses the top of my head before whispering meaningfully, "All of this will work out, Katniss."
"I hope you're right."
I close my eyes and relax as I listen to the lullaby of his heartbeat against my ear. I know I'm bound to have nightmares tonight, but at least I know I'll wake up in a safe place, in strong arms that would do anything to protect me. His warmth sinks into my skin like medicine and I find myself drifting quickly.
After a few minutes, however, I'm brought back by his deep voice vibrating against my ear, "Katniss?"
"Hmmm?"
"I love you," he whispers, and I don't even have to see his face to know he's smiling.
"I love you, too, Peeta. Goodnight," I reply with a final kiss to his chest.
Hours later, I wake abruptly with a pounding heart and tears pouring down my cheeks.
Although I'd obviously just had a horrific nightmare, I can't remember anything about it. From the panic and sorrow that linger, I can fathom a guess of who it involved, however, and it's probably best that the images have conveniently erased themselves from my mind upon waking. Above every leftover emotion I feel from the dream, one stands out and refuses to fade: an overwhelming need to be with my mother.
It takes a moment before I remember where I am, and when I do, it still seems like I'm dreaming. Afew months ago if someone had told me I'd be where I am now, I would have laughed and told them they were insane. For a few minutes, I simply stare at the shadows on the walls, reflecting upon how everything in my life has changed in such a short time.
Peeta's arms still hold me, and from his rhythmic, shallow breathing I can tell that he's fast asleep. As much as I want to close my eyes and drift off again, this time into a hopefully peaceful slumber, I can't shake the growing urgency of wanting to go to my mom, and somehow I know that if I ignore the feeling, it'll only haunt me later in my dreams.
With a sigh, I sit up and rub my eyes, knowing what I have to do.
I turn to Peeta and I can't help but smile. With his blond curly hair splayed around his head like a halo, his full pink lips, slightly flushed cheeks, and peaceful expression, he reminds me of a cherub all grown up. I lean down to kiss him on the cheek before I leave, unsure of whether or not I should wake him before I do. However, as soon as my lips touch his skin, his eyes flutter open anyway.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you…." I whisper as I smooth a curl back from his forehead.
"'s'alright," he replies groggily and yawns before looking at me in concern. "You okay?"
"Yeah, just had a nightmare," I answer dismissively with a shrug.
"Wan' talk 'bout it?" he asks sweetly, even though he can barely keep his eyes open.
"I can't remember any of it, just woke up knowing I had one…" I trail off before asking quickly, "Peeta, would you mind if I spend the rest of the night with my mom? I just feel like she needs me right now."
He narrows his eyes and frowns at me as if disappointed I'd ask such a thing.
"You don't have to ask my permission for anything, Katniss. Especially not something like that," he murmurs. Closing his eyes again, he smiles slightly as he gives a shooing gesture with his hand. "Please, go to your mom. Just try to get some sleep while you're in there, okay?"
I give him a quick peck on the lips before making my way to my mother.
I walk through the living room, stopping for a moment to observe Prim sleeping cozily on the sofa, the covers drawn up to her chin. The TV is still on, and I contemplate turning it off for a moment, but then I decide not to in case the sudden silence would wake her up.
Upon entering the room my mother is sleeping in, I'm taken by surprise at how Peeta has tucked her in and made sure she's comfortable with an overabundance of pillows. Again, I'm struck with overwhelming gratitude and awe that he'd taken it upon himself to care for her like this.
With the moonlight that's filtering in from the window making her pale skin glow, and with the pristine new surroundings contrasting the memory of the desolate trailer, she almost appears healthier already. Of course I know she's the same as she has been, and it's just a hopeful projection of my mind and emotions, but I want to believe it's true. Just to imagine her knowing and recognizing me in the present brings tears to my eyes. It's like wishing for a miracle, but it'd be such a wonderful thing to have my mother back.
Carefully and quietly, I pull back the covers and lay down beside her. She opens her eyes slightly, but doesn't say a word… not that I really expected her to anyway. I can't help but wonder what she thinks of being here, or if it even registers with her at all. I lean up on my elbow and look down at her face as I smooth some of her hair back. She looks straight back at me, but I'm not sure if she actually sees me.
"Mom…" I whisper. "I just wanted to say that I think you were really brave tonight. I know there's a part of you still in there hiding… and I want you to know that it's safe to come out now. We're safe here… we're going to be happy again."
I pause, feeling a bit silly as she continues to stare up at me with a blank expression.
"I… miss you a lot, you know. I remember when we'd bake cookies together… do you remember that? There was one time…" I sigh and shake my head, feeling a lump form in my throat as she closes her eyes and seems to fall asleep again. Of course, even if she was in her right mind, having a heart to heart in the middle of the night isn't a good idea. I lay my head back down, resting it against her shoulder and twining my hand with her cold, bony one, giving it a gentle squeeze of reassurance. "Nevermind, we'll talk more tomorrow. Goodnight mom. I love you."
The nightmares don't return for the rest of the night, although the dreams I have of baking cookies with my mother hurt even worse.
The next morning I wake to the delicious aroma of bacon wafting into the room. My stomach instantly growls, and I waste no time following my nose into the kitchen where I find Peeta at the stove cooking.
"Morning!" he smiles brightly when he sees me. His hair is tousled from sleep and he's still in his pajamas, but with the addition of a shirt. I'm almost positive the first thing he did when he woke up was come in here and start making breakfast.
"Why are you always so good to me?" I mutter rhetorically as I sit down at the table and lay my head down on crossed arms. "We could have just eaten toast or something…."
"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day," he states factually. "Besides, this is the official first day in your new home, of us living together. It'd be a shame to remember it as the day you woke up to plain toast."
"It would have been more than enough. I'm used to having nothing at all," I reply with a small laugh, but Peeta doesn't seem to find any humor in what I'd said. He gives me a sad look before shrugging and turning back to his cooking.
"Yeah, well you'll never be hungry again as long as I'm around. Lucky for you I love cooking and I'm pretty damn good at it if I say so myself."
"Ever humble," I tease, although I know he's only speaking the truth. I recall the delicious feast he'd cooked for me on our first date and my mouth waters from the mere memory of it. I could definitely get used to a life like this.
He turns with a smirk to say something, but his eyes widen and his mouth drops open as he catches sight of something behind me.
"Uh… good morning Prim…." he says almost questioningly. For a moment it looks as if he wants to ask her something, but instead he turns back to cooking.
"Good morning. That smells really good, Peeta!" she replies brightly as she sits down across from me at the table. It's then that I finally see her and fully understand Peeta's bewilderment.
All I can do is stare at her in shock, unable to form words. Her long blond hair, which used to fall to her waist, has been chopped to her shoulders. She avoids my eyes and tries to act casual, but eventually looks up at me timidly through her eyelashes, biting her lip as if expecting me to yell at her.
"Prim… what did you… why?" I manage to ask after a moment.
"Please don't be mad!" she immediately begins pleading as tears form in her eyes. "I just wanted it gone. The long hair reminded me of Snow and how he'd pull it all the time and I never liked having it long anyway. I'm sorry if you hate it…."
I close my eyes and rub the bridge of my nose as I think of how to reply. It'll take a bit of getting used to, and I wish she would have asked me first, but I can't really fault her for what she's done. I keep my hair long for sentimental reasons, because it reminds me of my dad. Prim has little memory of him, if at all, and to her the long hair had simply been a weapon used against her. I open my eyes again to see her staring at me with trepidation, as if I'm going to hit her or something, and it breaks my heart that she thinks I'd react so harshly.
"I don't hate it. It looks pretty on you," I reassure, a small smile tugging at my lips as her eyes brighten at the compliment and a huge grin takes over her face. "I was just surprised to see it, that's all."
"Really? You don't think it looks awful?" she asks hopefully, searching my face for approval. Peeta looks over his shoulder at me with a smile, catches my eye and winks.
"Really. I think you did a good job at cutting it yourself, actually." It's true, too. Her hair looks nice and even, almost professional. "Do you like it?"
"Yeah," she nods enthusiastically. "I feel about ten times lighter without it, and now I won't have to braid it or put it in a ponytail every morning to keep it out of the way."
Peeta walks over and places some rolls and a plate of bacon down in front of us, followed by sausage and pancakes. "All of this is for us to eat?" Prim asks in surprise, her eyes wide as she stares at all the food.
"Of course," he answers cheerfully as he sets plates, cups, and silverware before us. "Dig in and don't be shy about it. I'd hate for any of it to go to waste." As he finally sits down at the table himself, he informs me, "I also blended some food for your mom. I added a couple vitamins in the mix, too. Hope that's okay?"
I stare at him for a minute, stunned speechless again by him doing something so sweet and thoughtful. If Prim wasn't here I'd kiss him to show my thanks, but instead I smile and say, "Of course it is. Thank you. That's really nice."
He simply smiles in return before biting into a piece of bacon.
After breakfast, I change and feed my mother. The pureed mix that Peeta had prepared makes the process much easier as she doesn't have to chew anything. He surprises me by coming into the room and sitting on the edge of the bed to observe. I can't help feeling self-conscious as watches, but it's also comforting. I thought this would be something that would weaken our relationship, but I should have known better that Peeta would somehow make it a strength.
For the rest of the morning, we all sit on the sofa watching Saturday morning cartoons. It feels like such a contrast to the way we lived before, with the comfort and safety of this place, the occasional laughter, and Peeta's arm around my shoulders… it almost makes everything that happened last night seem like a nightmare… or as if it never happened at all.
I know it did, though.
My stomach twists as the memory hits me again, reminding me that I shot someone, possibly killed him, and I'm bound to pay for it eventually in some way. This is all just too easy, too happy. Something bad is going to happen, I feel it. I know it. I excuse myself to use the bathroom and find myself in tears before I can even shut the door.
After a few minutes, however, there's a tap on the door followed by Peeta's shaky, yet serious voice, "Katniss… something happened last night. I just got a text from Haymitch and… just… I'll tell you when you get out, okay?"
I wipe my tears away and immediately open the door. "What is it?"
He frowns when he notices I'd been crying, but explains almost as if in a panic, "He said it's about you. Gave me his condolences… I don't understand. I asked him to elaborate and he just told me to watch the noon news. He said it has to do with Coin and Snow, said we need to talk as soon as I feel up to it. I have no idea what he's talking about, but it doesn't sound good at all, Katniss."
Dread washes over me as I realize what's going on. I'm wanted for murder.
And in about twenty minutes, everyone I've known in my whole life will be aware of it.
I feel lightheaded and nauseated as we sit on the sofa, waiting for the news to come on and tell the world what I've done. Peeta has his arm around me, holding my hand tightly within his as we both tremble from anxiety. Prim huddles close to me as well, just as worried as we are, and I place an arm around her shoulders to help alleviate her fear, even though I know it won't.
When the news finally comes on, we don't have to wait long at all to understand what Haymitch had been talking about. None of us say anything as a severe looking brunette woman announces the top story….
The headline reads 'Triple Homicide: Terror and Tragedy Strikes Panem'.
I hold my breath as the news anchor begins explaining in a grave tone:
"Tragedy and terror hit the small town of Panem last night when a masked man wielding a rifle murdered a woman and her two young daughters, aged only 11 and 17."
School pictures of me and Prim, and an extremely old picture of my mom —when she was in good health—take over the screen, our names and ages located beneath.
"While their exact cause of death is unknown, the mobile home in which they lived was set ablaze by the perpetrator shortly after the attacks occurred. Ashes are all that remain, making autopsy impossible. The sole survivor, and husband of the murdered woman, lies in the hospital with a gunshot wound to the shoulder and a concussion from falling on impact."
Peeta curses under his breath, but I can't even seem to find air to breathe. Fear, more intense than I've ever felt, fills my body and my mind races in a million directions as I continue to listen.
"When asked for comment, he stated briefly that he suspects the attacks on his family were an act of revenge due to his father being the Chief of Police. Alfred Coin, the father of the injured man and the police chief of the town of Panem, had the following to say about the incident…"
My entire body shakes uncontrollably, tears fill my eyes, but no sound escapes me. I'm in a state of shock as I watch Coin appear on screen with crocodile tears running down his face. It's as if I'm in a nightmare, but I can't wake up.
"Such a terrible tragedy, plain awful…." Coin blubbers, wiping at his eyes as if truly upset. He shakes his head and pretends to be righteously outraged by our 'deaths'. "Those girls, my granddaughters… they were the light of my life, just beautiful and brilliant in every way. I still can't quite believe I'll never see them again."
At this point, he places his hands over his face and acts as if he can't control a sudden sob. Taking a deep breath, he continues a moment later, "My son is just devastated, he tried to stop the guy… but you can't reason with a rifle, you know? The man was wearin' a mask, but we got plenty of evidence collected from the scene and have a pretty good idea of who the suspect is, but we're keepin' the details under wraps 'till we know for sure. One thing I do know, the person responsible for these senseless deaths? They'll pay. They'll pay dearly. I'll make sure of that if it's the last thing I do."
He gives one last menacing look at the camera before the screen goes black and switches to the news anchor again.
A tremor runs through me, chilling me to the bone… because I know that threat wasn't meant for the made up 'masked man' – it was meant for me.
"While Coin stated to our reporters that he believes the murders were motivated by revenge, he warns residents of the small town to stay indoors as much as possible and avoid going anywhere alone. The suspect, who is of yet still unknown to the public in appearance and name, is armed and assumed highly dangerous by authorities. Any tips or information leading to the arrest of the masked man can be made to the local police department. We'll report more on this story and the funeral arrangements as details are made available."