Chapter Forty-Three: To Get Better

"Oh, the comfort—the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person—having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together; certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away." ― Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

Gale and I avoid the topic of relationships for the remainder of our conversation. Instead we focus on the arrest of Coin and what we can expect of Snow. Gale also brings up the question – "What will happen to you and Prim once all this is over?"—but I have no idea. I'd like to think we'll stay here and live happily ever after, but I know that isn't realistically possible.

We have school and all sorts of other things to eventually contend with, not to mention Mr. Mellark is going through a divorce on top of everything else. Somehow I know this is all just a semi-comfortable interlude.

After about 45 minutes pass, Peeta comes back into the kitchen looking more tired and stressed than when he left.

"Is it safe for me to come back in now?" he asks flatly.

"It was never unsafe. You could've come back in here like 40 minutes ago," I answer as he sits down next to me. "So how was your talk with Prim?"

He shrugs. "She seems fine. It was just like what you said, she's worried Snow won't get caught. That, and she's also very worried about you. If you plan on chewing me out later, I'll have you know that Prim gave me a good stern talking to already. Don't underestimate how much your sister has your back."

"Believe me, I never would. She almost got herself killed by 'having my back'," I reply, frowning. "I guess I need to have a talk with her myself later."

"Probably wouldn't be a bad idea."

Gale, who looks even more uncomfortable since we had our talk, clears his throat to get Peeta's attention.

"Um, so I guess it's as good a time to ask as any, not that there's any rush, but do you have any sort of plan on getting me back into town to my truck?"

Peeta exhales loudly and runs a hand through his hair.

"Probably sometime tomorrow. Haymitch will set it up for someone to come get you. I'd do it or my dad would, but even if the chances are slim to none that we'd be seen, I can't risk the connection between us in town right now. Not while Katniss and Prim are still here and Snow's whereabouts are unknown. Gossip travels quickly in small towns."

"That's the damn truth," Gale acknowledges with a nod of understanding. "There's no need to go through all the hassle, though. If you let me use your phone I'll make a few calls and get someone to pick me up tonight. I can walk like half mile from the gate and they can just pick me up on the side of the road. I won't tell anyone where I came from if you're worried about that."

"Well, you're welcome to stay for however long you want, but yeah—if you want to use a phone to call someone, you can. No problem. I would've had the guy drop you off at your truck today but I figured you'd probably want to know what's been going on and see that everyone was safe. And I knew Katniss was worried about you."

"I thought you didn't know I was arrested?" Gale asks, looking over at me in confusion.

"I didn't."

"I meant in general," Peeta reiterates. "I didn't tell her about the riot or the arrest until I knew I could get you out. She's been stressed enough with everything else, I didn't think she needed that on top of it all."

"And I appreciate you trying to protect me, Peeta, but I'm not made of glass. One more worry on my shoulders is not going to shatter me. From now on, I want to know everything—the good and the bad," I assert. "I mean it, no matter if you think it's too much for me to handle."

Peeta knits his brow and nods, but his eyes don't leave the table. He seems to be in deep thought about something, seemingly conflicted, and I'm certain it has to do with what I just said. What else could he possibly be hiding from me, though?

Gale calls a coworker friend on my cell, since it's not a contract phone and doesn't show any name when it comes to caller ID. Before he leaves, Peeta insists that he keep it and he'll buy me a new one. Gale, of course, tries to argue that he doesn't need it, but

Peeta tells him he does - just in case there's an emergency and also to call us later when he's been picked up. In the end, Gale reluctantly agrees to keep it with the promise of paying Peeta back, which is an enormous relief to me. Hard telling when I'll see him again, but at least I know there's a way for us to communicate.

After an hour, and all too soon, it's time for him to leave.

My stomach twists and my throat tightens as I try to repress tears from reaching my eyes. As he walks towards the door, I feel as if he's taking the last bit of familiarity, the last of my former life, with him. It's a strange feeling, to be so wanting of change but so scared of it, and to be so nostalgic of a life I couldn't wait to escape.

From this point on, I realize there will be no more mid-night walks to the Hawthornes', no sleeping next to Gale in his absurdly messy room, no more scrounging the woods for food and giving him mountains of squirrel pelts, no more digging through trash bags full of discarded thrift shop clothes to find something worth wearing, no more secret trips to the dollar store in his truck to buy essentials and the cheapest shoes I can find. It all sounds so horrible in retrospect, but to me it's familiar. It was rough, but it was the way it was and I was used to it. It became normal; and now, nothing is.

"I hope we get to see each other again soon, on better terms," Gale says as he stands in front of the door, his hand on the knob. "I'll call you as soon as I get picked up."

"Don't call, just text. It's safer that way," Peeta replies. "At least if you're still around people when you do it. Keep in touch, okay? I didn't give you that cell just for emergencies. Take care of yourself."

Gale nods, looking a bit lost and hesitant to leave as his eyes drift to me and Prim. "You too."

Prim rushes forward and hugs him as he opens the door a crack, and I can't help but follow her lead. Afterwards, Peeta and Gale shake hands—and I can see it in Gale's eyes that Peeta has passed some sort of test of respect. For so many years, it was Gale who kept us safe and warm when we needed it, kept us in clothes and fed with whatever leftovers his family could spare. And now, without saying so in words, it's as if he's passing that responsibility on to Peeta.

With tears in his eyes—which, I note, is the first time I've ever seen Gale come close to crying—he says his goodbyes one last time.

And then he's gone.

After Gale sends a text to inform he's been picked up, Peeta and I part ways. He excuses himself to take a shower and I tell him I'll talk to him afterwards. He nods silently, looking wary of what I might say to him later, but then I give him a quick kiss to alleviate his anxiety. Of course we'll still have to discuss him keeping things from me, but I'm in no mood for an argumentative confrontation tonight.

Besides, even as stressed as I was today, I know Peeta did what he did because he thought he was protecting me—and maybe, at the time, it might have been the right choice to make. I don't know what I would've done if I knew Gale had started a riot and was in jail, and I certainly wouldn't have let Peeta knowingly get involved.

"So Peeta told me you gave him a 'stern talking to' about me?" I ask as I sit down beside Prim. She shrugs and keeps her eyes glued to the television set. With a roll of my eyes, I grab the remote from her hands and turn it off.

"Hey. I was watching that!" she exclaims and tries to reach for it, but I hold it out of her reach.

"Prim, we need to talk... for real. Not you trying to cheer me up like today, I shouldn't have placed that burden on you. I'm sorry about that. How are you feeling? Seriously. And don't be afraid of upsetting—"

"I'm scared," she admits before I can even finish my sentence. "I like living here, but I know it can't last. What's going to happen after? I want them to arrest Snow, and yeah, they've already got Coin... but what about us? They're not going to let us stay here, not with Mom the way she is. I'm not an idiot. That's why I need her to get better."

Now it makes sense. Prim's sudden, zealous interest in getting Mom's health to improve; it was so we could stay here, together. And now, with the arrests, she's worried because it seems we're running out of time for that to happen.

I run my hand through her hair and she finally turns her attention to me instead of the blank TV screen.

"I wish I had all the answers, Prim, but I'm just as clueless and scared as you are. I don't know what happens after all this. All I know is that they won't separate us, and by the slim chance that they do, it won't be for long. I turn 18 in May, after that I can do whatever I want, including taking custody of you... and I'll fight with everything I got to make that happen if it comes down to it," I state. "And we'll have all that money, so... it shouldn't be too shabby of a life, right? We just gotta get through this rough patch first."

As I say all this, I feel like a hypocrite. I'm obviously just as fretful as she is about the future. Sure, I can put it all down in beautiful terms - what could happen, what I wish to happen, but I have no clue if it will. But one thing I do know is, nothing will separate us; I won't let it.

"I know. We're going to be okay eventually. It's just... the not knowing part that worries me, I guess," Prim replies. "Once they get Snow, I think it'll all be downhill from there. But you are right."

"About what?"

"As long as we have each other, we'll be happy. And no matter what, I know Peeta won't ever leave you, even if we have to leave him for a while."

"Why do you think we're going to leave all of a sudden? They could give Mr. Mellark custody of us, you never know."

"Maybe. I hope. I mean, where else do we have to go?" Prim says, frowning. "It's just a feeling I have. That this can't last, it's just too good."

I don't know what to say to that. I have the same feeling too. It's hard to cheer someone else up when you have the same exact fears and they're all completely rational.

"Anyways, I'll let you get back to your show. I just want to let you know that I'm here for you. Always. I won't pretend to have all the answers, but I don't want you bottling things up, okay?"

"I know. And I'm always here for you too." She smiles and gives me a half hug while snatching the remote out of my hand. "You gonna be alright or do you need me to sleep in here for the night?"

She clicks the TV back on and a mischievous smile curves her lips. "Go make out with Peeta. I want to get back to my show," she answers with a dismissive wave of her hand.

While Gale was here, Prim and Mr. Mellark fed Mom and took her to the bathroom. As weird as it is not to have that responsibility tonight, I admit it's a bit of a relief. By routine, however, I still go to her bedroom before I go to Peeta's—or, rather, I peek my head in for a moment. I shut the door as quickly and quietly as I opened it, though, when I see Mr. Mellark curled up beside her, her hand in his, both of them fast asleep.

I don't know what to think of it, don't know if I really want to, so I try to shake it from my thoughts completely. I can't fix everyone's problems, especially ones so irreparably broken.

I go to the bathroom, change into one of Peeta's big t-shirts, brush my hair out and then rebraid it, brush my teeth, before finally entering Peeta's room.

There I see him standing at his dresser, clad in only boxers, hair all wet and curly, with rivulets of water running down his back. He must've just gotten out of the shower. When he hears me enter, he turns to me and sighs heavily, looking exhausted but resigned to anything bad I'm about to say to him.

He steps closer to me as he dries himself off with a hand towel.

"Look, I'm really sorry for not telling you where I was going and what I was going to do today. You were already having to deal with so much, crying and lashing out, and I didn't know what to do… whether I should've told you. I didn't want to make things worse. I'm really sorry, Katniss. This is all new to me, and I'm not perfect, but I was worried about you. If you're going to yell at me, though, go ahead and do it—"

I yank the towel from his hands, taking him slightly by surprise as I shake my head and continue to dry his back and chest.

"I'm not going to yell at you, Peeta. I understand why you did what you did… but like I said earlier, I'm not made of glass. I need to know things, whether you think I can handle them or not," I say sternly, but not angrily. I toss the wet towel to the side and place my hands on the sides of his bare stomach. "No more secrets between us, okay? I mean it."

"Okay," he nods, bringing his arms around my waist. "I'll tell you everything from here on out, I promise. No secrets, no matter how small. But you need to be honest with me, too." He says this last part in a meaningful way, as if I'm just stocked full of secrets or something.

"I have been," I say, dropping my hands and looking up at him in confusion. "What do you mean by that?"

He shrugs and hesitates before asking, "What did Gale need me to leave the room for?"

"To see if I was happy here, if you were treating me right. Basically gave me the big brother talk," I answer. "And…?"

"And what?" I fold my arms over my chest as he sits down on the end of the bed and begins to take his prosthetic off.

"And what did you tell him?" His voice is nonchalant, but he's purposefully not looking up at me. He knows he's being absurd on some level, surely.

"What do you think I told him? That you were horrible and that I wanted to run away with him?" I answer with a roll of my eyes. "Geez, Peeta. If you had such a jealous thing about Gale, why did you bail him out? Why bring him here?"

I sigh as I move to the head of the bed and pull the covers down.

"For one thing, I'm not jealous of him," Peeta adamantly claims. "And I bailed him out and brought him here because he's your best friend and I at least owed him respect for all the years he helped you that I didn't."

"That you couldn't," I correct, "and it wasn't your responsibility anyway. It isn't now, either, for that matter."

"If you found out that I knew he was in jail and I didn't do anything to help him, you would've been pissed—"

"No, I wouldn't have. Gale decided to do something hotheaded and reckless. Regardless of how I would've worried about him being in jail and all that, I'd never be mad at you for not bailing him out. He got himself into that mess, not you. It wasn't your responsibility to get him out of trouble, Peeta. He knows that, I know that. I mean, I appreciate what you did… more than you know, and I'm sure he does too, but you didn't have to do it."

"Well, it's done and over with now, so…" Peeta says with a shrug, then scoots up the bed and under the covers. We're silent for a moment as I crawl in beside him and pull the covers over my lap.

"You're wrong, by the way," I state, crossing my arms and leaning back against the headboard. "About?"

"Gale was my best friend, before I met you. He'll always be a great friend, but I think you're just a bit higher on the friend scale now. I mean, there are parts of me that only you have seen, sides I wouldn't dare show in front of Gale—"

"I sure hope there are certain parts of you he hasn't seen," Peeta quips, looking at me with raised eyebrows. I shake my head and sigh at how ridiculous he's being.

"You have absolutely no reason to be jealous of him, you know," I assure, finding his hand beneath the cover and twining my fingers with his.

"I'm not jealous. That would mean I don't trust you, which I trust you completely. I'm more… cautious, I guess," he mumbles as he lies down and stares up at the ceiling. "You two have a lot of history together. I mean, if I hadn't entered the picture, can you honestly say you wouldn't have gotten with him eventually? I think he might've had that impression."

"No, I don't think so at all. We're not like that. Never have been, never will be. I've told you before, he's like a brother to me," I answer, slipping down into the bed and curling up next to him. I take my hand from his and touch his chin so that he looks over at me. "We have a lot of history too, Peeta. And we're gonna have one hell of a future together."

"I know," he whispers and bites his lip. He then sighs and blurts as if it's troubling him, "I just… I can't believe he's never kissed you. You're telling me, through all the years you've known each other, he's never even tried to? Never accidentally touched a boob or rubbed up against you in bed… nothing?"

I snort and shake my head at him as if he's just said the most idiotic thing—which he has.

"Yes. That is exactly what I'm telling you. Rest assured, the only guy to ever touch me in bed is you."

He nods, the tenseness of his body noticeably lessening as I bring my arm around his waist and rest my head against his arm.

"I know that, on a logical level. I guess I just don't understand how a guy could be around you for so long, share a bed with you, and not be thinking about wanting to kiss you or touch you the whole entire time." As if demonstrating his lack of willpower, he brings his arm around my shoulders and kisses my forehead.

"Well, for starters, he's like 5 years older than me…."

"And 5 years isn't that big of a gap," Peeta points out.

"It's a big enough gap at our age," I reply. "Let me put this in plain terms, you being jealous of Gale is like me being jealous of Delly."

"Except I've never slept in Delly's bed, and Delly has never led you to believe it was more than that."

"He was just being protective, nothing else. I know he's a little rough around the edges—"

"That's an understatement," Peeta mutters as he reaches over and turns off the bedside lamp, covering the bedroom in darkness—aside from the dim stream of light pouring in from the hallway through the crack in the doorway.

"But he's a good guy, underneath it all, and a good friend. And I hope one day you two can be friends. It'd be a hell of a lot easier on me if you dropped the jealousy and he dropped his guard a bit." I rest my head on his chest and he traces circles on my arms with his fingers. "If you trust me, like you say, believe me that there's definitely never been anything sexual or romantic between us. Just thinking about it kind of grosses me out. Besides the fact that he's like a brother to me, he's just… not my type at all."

"I trust you and I won't say anything more about it," he whispers with an air of finality. I don't know if he means it, but I'm hopeful that he does. Talking about Gale in this sense is extremely weird and awkward. I could never imagine Gale kissing me, let alone doing all the intimate stuff I've let Peeta do to me. It seriously makes me sick to my stomach.

"Thank you. We have enough crap to deal with right now that's real than entertaining stupid hypothetical situations." "I know, and I'm sorry," he says, then after a moment of silence he asks in a lighter tone, "So you have a type, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess I do," I answer and plant a quick kiss to his chest. "I have a very specific attraction to guys with blond hair, blue eyes, who have names that start with P and end with A—"

"Ah. Better keep you away from Proja then."

"I won't even comment on that," I groan in disgust. "How is your brother, by the way? I know you don't exactly get along, but…." I shrug.

I immediately regret asking the question as I feel Peeta's body go rigid beneath me.

After a moment, he exhales loudly and relaxes slightly as he answers, "He's giving Dad a hard time. So is Mom, in other ways. But that's a battle to discuss another time. For now, we need to get some sleep. Hard telling what tomorrow will bring. But at least we've won a huge battle today, right?"

"Right. Now we just need to win the war," I reply. "Are you going anywhere in the morning?" He shakes his head and kisses the top of my head.

"School's closed for the rest of the week at least, and Dad decided to close the bakery for a while till things go back to normal. No use being open when we're not making any sales. So I'm all yours tomorrow, and probably a few days after that."

"Good."

The next morning, Peeta and I wake to a very jubilant, excited Prim shaking my shoulders and ordering me to 'open my eyes already.' Instead, I groan and bring an arm over my face, hoping for a few more minutes of sleep. Prim doesn't relent, however, but only becomes more persistent.

I sit up with a jolt and narrow my eyes at her, "I was sleeping really good. What do you want that's so important it couldn't wait, Prim?"

"Sorry, but I just couldn't wait," she gushes, her grin as bright as the sun streaming in through the window. I yawn and stretch my arms as Peeta sits up beside me and rubs his eyes. "So Mom used the bathroom again this morning. We didn't want to wake you guys, so Mr. Avory helped me with her since he was already awake. We already fed and clothed her too, so you don't have to worry about that either—"

"That's nice..." I say slowly. "So why are you waking me up then?"

"Okay, okay, I'm getting to that. So we started watching old home videos in the living room. And... oh, you just gotta see, Katniss! You and Peeta. Hurry, we have it paused for you."

"Prim—" I groan.

"Please? It has Mom and Dad, too. And me… kinda. You gotta see. Come on..."

"We'll be there in a few," Peeta replies groggily.

Suddenly curious as to what she's going on about in light of it including Dad, and because I know she won't let me go back to sleep, I yawn again and nod in agreement. Prim gives me a quick hug and literally skips to the door and down the hallway, but not before turning and demanding us to hurry up once more.

Peeta attaches his prosthetic before slipping on a pair of jeans and a dark green hoodie. None of my clothes are in his room, so I stay in my night clothes as we make our way to the living room. Upon entering, the first thing I notice is Mr. Mellark sitting next to Mom on the couch. His arm is around her back and his hand rests gently against her upper arm, keeping her upright.

Prim sits on her other side, looking as if she might burst from excitement. In fact, before Peeta and I even have a chance to sit down, she asks if we're ready to watch. From her giddy demeanor, and from the knowing, amused look on Mr. Mellark's face, I can tell that whatever she wants to show me will be worth the abrupt awakening.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I nod as I sit down beside Peeta on the loveseat diagonal from the couch. Mr. Mellark says nothing as he presses play on the remote.

What I see next wakes me faster than if I'd just drank 10 cups of coffee.

I watch with rapt attention, tears immediately springing to my eyes, as the camera shakily zooms in on a man with striking gray eyes, dark skin, raven hair pulled back into a ponytail that reaches past his shoulders, and a strong face covered with a beard and mustache that I remember would always tickle me and make me giggle when he'd give me hugs and kisses. I see my father, happy and smiling, and fully alive.

Vivid as I'd held him in my memory, seeing his flesh and blood image on the screen makes me realize just how many little details of his features I'd forgotten with time. Like the one crooked tooth on the left side of his mouth, only visible when he'd give you the biggest of smiles, or how deep his dimples were. I also forgot about the crow's feet under his eyes, how long his eyelashes were and how they were so dark and thick they looked like eyeliner.

It's enough to see my dad alive and happy again, but then I hear my mom's laughter off-camera and her declaration of, "Oh my gosh, they're so cute! You should leave 'em alone, Vance. You're gonna scare the crap out of that poor little boy."

My dad smirks mischievously and winks before shaking his head, "Nah. We're just gonna talk about his intentions is all."

"They're five-years-old. They don't have intentions yet," Mom counters with a giggle.

The camera then focuses on her, and I'm struck breathless by how much she resembles Prim. With her bright blue eyes, pink cheeks, and long blond hair, she's absolutely stunning.

I glance quickly over at Mom sitting on the couch, pale, thin, and lifeless, and I feel like crying.

Apparently I'm not the only one, either, as I notice that Mr. Mellark has his own eyes closed with a hand rested beneath one, as if preparing himself to wipe away any tears before the rest of us have a chance to see them.

"Ohhh, they're so adorable, though. Look at them."

Mom looks at the camera and her eyes widen upon realizing it's focused on her. She smiles and waves before hiding her face shyly. "Ave, get the camera off of me. I look like a whale and I don't have a bit of makeup on."

"Nonsense. You're pregnant and you look absolutely radiant," he counters in a joking tone, and she sticks her tongue out at him. The camera pans down to show a fully rounded belly, and then a hand—presumably my mom's—quickly covers the lens.

The screen fades to black and the next thing that appears on the screen is Peeta.

With a mop of unruly blond curls, chubby pink cheeks, and curious, big blue eyes, he gazes up at the camera in question, fidgeting with a strap on his blue corduroy overalls with one hand and clutching a yellow stuffed toy dog with the other.

"Oh god, I think I remember this," Peeta mumbles from beside me and covers his eyes.

I don't have a chance to ask about his embarrassment before it's my turn to be mortified. The camera pans over to show me with a huge, confident grin on my face and my hair in pig tails and ribbons. I'm also wearing a frilly, pink princess dress... but that's not why I'm mortified. No, it's because I'm pretending to be pregnant, with some sort of ball or something underneath it.

"So you're having a baby then?" Dad asks off-camera.

Peeta and I both nod enthusiastically, and I hear the adults stifling laughter in the background. "Uh-huh, just like Mommy!" I answer brightly.

"Yeah, I definitely don't remember this," I mumble, my cheeks beginning to burn, but I don't say another word as Prim tells me to 'shhhhh!'

"So Peeta's the daddy then, is he?"

I nod again and proclaim, "Yep! Sure is! I love him and he's gonna be the best one ever."

Dad then kneels on the ground beside Peeta and gestures for him to come closer. Peeta seems hesitant at first, looking at the camera—his dad—for an answer before he finally moves forward and leans against my dad's leg.

Dad winks at the camera before he starts talking to Peeta in a slow, forthright tone.

"So you got my little girl pregnant?" Peeta looks up at him with wide, uncertain eyes and nods as he clutches his stuffed animal closer to his chest. "Being a daddy is a lot of hard work, you know?" Peeta chews on his bottom lip and nods again. "You gonna take good care of them? Are you going to marry my little girl and make her happy?"

"Vance," I hear my mother warn with amusement. "Oh jeez. They're only five. I doubt he knows what marriage even is."

"Hey, it's never too early to practice my protective father speech! With two baby girls bound to be as stunning as their mother, I'm only preparing myself for the inevitable," Dad replies with a chuckle, then turns back to Peeta. "So, what's it gonna be little man...?"

Peeta nods quickly. "Yeah," he squeaks, looking completely intimidated. "I will. But mister…?"

"Yeah?"

Peeta looks from his dad to mine as if they've lost their minds before informing, "It's not a real baby. It's only just a balloon…."

Just as soon as Peeta says this, they both jump in surprise as a loud pop sounds off to the side. The camera pans back to me, where I stand with round, startled eyes and my hands sprawled on my stomach. "The baby popped," I pout.

The adults all laugh, but Peeta and I simply frown and look at each other in question, confused as to what's so funny— which apparently causes them to laugh even more.

And then the video fades to black again.

When the video comes back into focus, it shows Peeta in the bakery, only slightly older than before. His hair is a little shorter, he looks a bit taller and slimmer, and he has icing all over himself. He's apparently decorating something and looking completely proud of his messy creation.

"Good job on your first cupcake, Peet! Soon you'll be a pro, even better than me I wager," his dad states proudly.

Peeta grins up at him and nods. "And then the bakery will be mine."

His dad laughs. "We'll see, Peet. We'll see."

"Can I give this to Katniss when she comes over?" Peeta asks hopefully. "Sure can. It's yours to keep. You can do whatever you want with it."

Peeta leans over and murmurs near my ear, "I did give it to you, just so you know."

"And I'm sure I loved it," I reply.

"You did. So much you agreed to marry me for it. I'm sure you see how this launched my love for baking?"

I look over at Peeta with a smile, understanding the meaning of what he'd just said, and lace my fingers with his. Perhaps a lifetime supply of cupcakes wouldn't be so bad.

Most of the day goes by uneventfully. We eat breakfast and lunch, watch some more home videos, and then play board games with Prim in order to distract ourselves. Every time that Peeta's phone goes off, my heart feels like it's going to explode from my chest—and every time he looks down at his phone and tells me there's 'no news yet' I feel crushing disappointment, but also relief.

Then, around 4 pm, he receives a call—not a text—from Haymitch. I hold my breath in anticipation as I hear Peeta answer in vague terms. His face is serious, though, so I know that whatever is being said is important.

I'm not wrong.

When he hangs up, he informs me that the FBI are on the way to the apartment.

As to Snow's whereabouts, he doesn't know. All he does know is that he isn't at the hospital.

We sit in the living room, waiting and worrying.

I just know that whatever happens next will change everything, and nothing Peeta can say will alleviate how anxious I feel. Eventually he stops trying to console me and we just sit in thick silence. Prim rests her head against my arm and holds my hand; she seems to be feeling exactly how I am. No words need to be exchanged between us to understand what the other is thinking.

And then, finally, we hear a loud knock at the front door.

"Must be them," Peeta states as he stands up. Prim and I stand up as well, following behind him as he makes his way to the door.

I feel like vomiting.

"Already?" I ask as Peeta peaks through the peephole. He looks back at me with a nod, hollers down the hallway for his dad, then proceeds to unlock and open the door for them.

In walks two agents—both middle-aged, severe looking men wearing black suits. The fact that neither of them are smiling does nothing to put me at ease.

"May we speak with Mr. Mellark, please?" one of them asks in a businesslike manner, extending a hand for Peeta to shake.

Peeta takes his hand and answers, "I'm a Mr. Mellark. Peeta Mellark. But I'm sure you're referring to my dad."

The man retrieves a piece of paper from his pocket and looks down at it with an arch of a brow before nodding and reiterating, "We're looking to speak with an Avory Mellark. Head of household."

"That would be me," Mr. Mellark says as he walks up behind us. "How may I help you gentlemen?"

"Sir, we need you to answer a few questions about your living arrangements, about the Everdeen girls and their mother— privately, if you would?"

Mr. Mellark nods, "Sure. Anything you need to know."

"First, we'd like to see the girls' mother. We've been informed she's incapacitated?"

"Right this way," Mr. Mellark answers with a solemn nod and waves for them to follow him down the hall.

My hands shake and my heart pounds as I watch them disappear into Mom's room. Prim looks at me with wide, worried eyes, searching my face for an answer, some sort of consolation that everything will be okay, but all I can manage is the truth, "I'm worried."

Peeta brings an arm around my shoulders and kisses the top of my head. "There's no need to be. Everything's going to be fine. They're only here to help."

"Why were they so intent on seeing Mom and talking to your dad then? If they're here to help us, why aren't they asking me and Prim questions? Shouldn't that be a priority to them?"

"Probably because they've already read your notebooks and it answered a lot of the questions they had. It makes sense that they'd want to talk to the two adults in the household," Peeta reasons. "They'll likely talk to you afterwards."

I say nothing in reply; I don't know what to say. I don't know what to expect.

Sucking in a deep, shaky breath to calm my nerves, I move to the living room and sit down on the sofa. Prim and Peeta follow my lead, and we all sit in complete silence for a few minutes, trying to hear something—anything—from the back room. But we hear nothing.

Eventually Peeta grabs the remote from the side table, mumbling, "Might as well distract ourselves," and turns the TV to some cartoon with an annoying talking dish sponge. It does little to distract me though. I can't concentrate on anything at the moment. I just want to walk back to the room and ask what's going on, what they're going to do with us… but I know I can't.

It's been more than 20 minutes, and the longer they take, the sicker I feel. Peeta rubs my back, but it's nothing more than a sweet gesture. I suppose it could be considered a good thing they're taking so long—at least there's a chance we'll get to stay, that all of this will be over soon and we can have a normal, worry-free life. Then again, I could be totally wrong and they've come to take us away and possibly separate us.

After about 30 minutes pass, we're taken by surprise when we hear a loud knock.

The three of us exchange wary glances as Peeta stands to open the front door. Before he can even take a step forward, however, the two agents and Mr. Mellark finally make their way down the hall. I stand and watch helplessly as three EMTs bustle into the apartment with medical supplies and a stretcher and are directed to Mom's room by one of the agents.

Before I can find my voice, Prim rushes forward, asking with panic in her tone, "What's going on?"

One of the agents bends down to meet her eye to eye and gives her a small sympathetic smile, "As you're likely aware, your mother is in bad shape, Miss Everdeen—Primrose, is it?" Prim crosses her arms and nods. "Primrose, we're taking your mother to a really good hospital upstate so she can get better."

"But she was already getting better!" Prim argues. "Why does she have to go so far away without us? She's going to be so lonely. You don't understand, she needs us with her to get better."

"We're taking your mother to a hospital with the best doctors and high security to keep her safe and secure. We just need to know exactly what's wrong with her so we can help her get even better, you see, and once we know—as soon as it's possible—we'll bring her back home to you," he explains slowly, as if Prim is a toddler.

Mr. Mellark stands off to the side, looking pale as a ghost. He has tears in his eyes and I can tell he's conflicted about all this. I wonder what he knows that we don't.

We make eye contact and he quickly averts his gaze to the floor, and that's when I really start to panic. If they're taking away Mom, what are they going to do with us? They're obviously sugarcoating everything for Prim, so I decide to chime in and get to the bottom of things before they leave and I'm left with a multitude of questions.

"How long is she going to be gone?" I assert. "A rough estimate, no pretty lies please. We've been through enough."

The man stands up with a sigh and rubs his chin.

"Your mother will return as soon as the doctors deem it fit. As it is, she's severely malnourished and obviously has some neurological ailments. I assure you, we don't want to keep her separated from you girls any longer than need be. So, as soon as possible—"

"As soon as soon is possible, please," Mr. Mellark speaks up. "Like I said, I'll pay whatever it takes to keep her here. Private nurses, doctors, medical equipment, I'll pay for it all... I just... I don't want her to be kept any longer than necessary."

"We know, Mr. Mellark. We'll certainly do all we can—"

He's cut short by the EMTs carrying a stretcher through the living room, towards the door. On it lies Mom, and my heart crumbles at what I see. They have her arms and legs restrained, and her eyes are wide with confusion. She stretches her bony fingers out as far as they can towards me, pleading silently for me to help her, but I can't. I can't do anything. After all these years of taking care of her, all I can do is watch helplessly as they take her away to do only God knows what.

Prim immediately breaks down into tears and rushes forward to take Mom's hand in hers.

"Get better quick so you can come back to us, okay? I love you, Mom. I'll miss you…." She releases her grip as soon as they take Mom out of the apartment, then turns to me and burrows herself within my arms. Her whole body shakes with sobs, but I don't know what to say or do to make her feel better.

"Oh my—was that really necessary?" Mr. Mellark exclaims indignantly. "She's harmless; there's absolutely no reason she needs to be restrained!"

"It's for her own safety, Mr. Mellark. It's just procedure. She's not being harmed in any way, I assure you."

"Regardless, her daughters didn't need to see that. They've seen enough horrible things to last them a lifetime, as you well know. You could've at least spared them that much," he counters, his former pale complexion turning red.

The man nods, "Let's not lose our tempers. It won't do anyone an ounce of good right now."

Mr. Mellark looks as if he's about to burst, but he says nothing—just slides his hand over his face and turns away.

Wiping the tears from my cheeks, I find my voice again to ask the most important question on my mind: "What about me and my sister? Do we get to stay here?"

"Temporarily," he answers vaguely, nodding.

My breath catches in my chest and my stomach turns as I ask, "Temporarily. What does temporarily mean?"

"Temporarily means that Mr. Mellark has been given temporary custody, since this is the safest place for you at the moment and we'll still need to do a few follow ups as we investigate the case more thoroughly. But we will be getting in contact with some of your extended family members to see if—"

"We both want to stay here, though. Permanently. We don't have any other family, at least any that care a thing about us. We haven't seen any of them in years."

"We're just following procedure, Miss Everdeen. We're legally obligated to contact possible, suitable relatives for placement—"

"Why? Family isn't always blood! This is our family," I counter.

"True as that may be, the court sees things a bit differently. Now, rest assured, your voice matters and we'll take your opinion into consideration. If we happen to find suitable relatives who wish to take custody of you and your sister, Mr. Mellark here has every right to fight for custody himself if he wishes to do so."

"That's just stupid, though. He shouldn't have to fight for us! We love it here, we're comfortable and happy here. Can't you just... have a heart and let us stay where we want without all the legal crap?" I argue, all the while knowing it won't do an ounce of good.

"Unfortunately, I'm not personally in control of those matters, but trust that we're merely looking out for your best interests, Miss Everdeen. We'll be in touch soon."