Fairy Tales & Happy Endings
By: always-andshewrites
Chapter 3 – The Adventure
– Peeta –
I was so embarrassed after the burnt-egg fiasco that I wanted to run straight to my room and hide for days. But Katniss handled it like a champ. Together, we tossed the charred breakfast into the trash, opened the windows to air the place out, and then shared a box of frozen waffles out on the deck. If she realized why I was distracted enough to burn—of all things, something as simple as eggs, she didn't say anything.
I'm not sure what it is, but I find myself gravitating toward her like a moth to a flame. I just…enjoy being in her presence, crave it even. She's like…the warmth from the sun poking through the clouds on a cold, dreary, and rainy day. The way I seem to want to be near her scares the daylights out of me. She is my drug of choice and I'm already past the point of no return. After a little more than two weeks, I can't imagine a life that she isn't a part of. I am completely and hopelessly a goner; addicted to her laugh, her smile, even that pesky scowl of hers sends a thrill surging through my insides. And for the life of me, I don't want to quit her.
Though they don't happen every night, her nightmares are still intense. The second I hear her whimpers, it's like my body knows she needs me before my mind does. Half-awake and half asleep, my limbs guide me through the dark, across the hall, and into her room to find her kicking, thrashing, and pleading for her life. Each night I call out her name in a soothing voice, trying to wake her as gently as possible.
But each night my attempts fail, only to have her eyes widen in fear until the moment she realizes she's safe. Her frightened, stormy gray eyes pain me each night. The look of utter, paralyzing, gut-wrenching terror that takes over her features causes me so much anguish, and I wish more than anything I could do something—anything to alleviate her pain. Judging by her reaction each night, I have come to the conclusion that someone hurt her—and I have a feeling it's worse than anything I could imagine.
Her expression of terror never fails to transform into one of relief once she realizes it's me and not whoever haunts her dreams. She always pleads for me to stay, and I am powerless to refuse her a single request. So, I crawl into bed next to her, running my fingers through her hair and tracing circles against her back, all the while wanting to tell her she never has to beg.
Even though I always end up sharing her bed before the night is over, it still caught me by surprise when, on the fifth night, she pre-emptively asked me to stay before she even fell asleep. I'm not sure if I should tell her this, but she keeps my nightmares away too.
She hasn't told me what, or who haunts her dreams at night, and I don't pry. She'll tell me when she's ready.
"Sooo," I break the silence, looking up from my sketch pad to see Katniss writing in her journal. We are seated at opposite ends of the sofa in front of the fireplace—something that has become a sort-of nighttime ritual for us. Me with my sketch pad in hand, and Katniss journaling with a glass of wine before calling it a night. She looks up, her brow quirking up with curiosity. "I was wondering if um...perhaps I could entice you in joining me for an adventure?" I shrug my shoulder nonchalantly, hoping that my voice sounds more certain that I feel.
"An adventure?" She inquires, her eyes lighting up with excitement.
"Yeah. I mean, we've been couped up in the house for the last few days because of the rain, and I thought it might be nice to get out. Stretch our legs, and you know … get some fresh air."
"And what exactly might this 'adventure' entail?" She closes her journal with the pen still inside to hold her place and sets it on the end table at her side. Then she pulls her legs onto the couch, crossing them, and giving me her full attention. I can't help but smile at how genuinely sweet she looks—almost like a little girl.
"Well, the morning you threatened my life," I begin, glaring at her jovially, "I actually had just gotten back from a run," she fights back a smile, most likely having remembered me waltzing down the stairs nearly naked. Okay, so other than my towel, I was naked. "And on my way back there was this cave-like looking structure that I wanted to check out. But after all the ah ... excitement that day I almost forgot about it until now. So, whatd'ya say? Wanna check it out?"
I know her answer before she speaks, recalling our conversations about her and her father. Which I knew before I asked—knowing she could never refuse. I ignore the fluttering in my stomach when her eyes sparkle with joy. And I think to myself, "I would do anything to see that smile every single day." Her shoulders scrunch up to her ears and her eyes widen like an excited little girl. She must realize this and immediately tones her jubilation down.
"Sure, that sounds like fun," she plays it off as if she isn't thrilled at the prospect, but I saw her excitement, the true elation that succumbed her features. "When did you want to go?"
"I'll have to check the weather, but I think it's supposed to be nice for the rest of the week, so really, it's up to you." I offer, my eyes widening with an idea. "We could even make a night of it ... you know ... camp out under the stars."
I hold my breath, anxiously awaiting her answer and trying to decipher the expression on her face.
Her lips curve into a huge grin and then she's climbing across the couch and into my lap, encircling her arms around my neck.
"Yes Peeta, yes!" she exclaims, "I would love to do that, I haven't been camping in I don't know how long!" Katniss realizes her awkward position on my lap and quickly slides off, returning to her end of the sofa. "I'm um ... sorry about that."
"Don't be," I tell her, brushing it off.
"So, can we go tomorrow?"
"Um ... I was thinking we could spend tomorrow getting ready. You know, get everything packed up. And then we could head out first thing the next morning."
She raises her brow. "It takes you an entire day to get ready for a hiking trip?"
I blush and look away. "I mean … I suppose we could go in the morning. I just um … I usually like to make a list. To uh ... make sure I don't forget anything, you know? Food, water. Supplies."
"No." She states firmly, grabbing my hands and pulling me up with her. "We'll make your list now, then we'll get started on packing tonight. We'll finish in the morning and leave by noon. That is plenty of time."
I glance at her hesitantly, not sure if this is a good idea. "Come on Peeta, let's do something spontaneous. You need to get out of that head of yours. Don't overthink it; let's just go and ... it'll be fun. How about this," she pauses, and I give her my full attention. "You'll be in charge of the food and water, you know, since you're the baker, and I will stuff our backpacks. Survival gear only."
I stare at her hesitantly again, still not sure if this is a good idea. I like lists. I like to check things off. And double check that the things I checked off. There is something emotionally satisfying about crossing an item off my to-do list. I like to double and triple check to be certain I didn't miss anything. I like to be prepared; I like to pack all the "what-if" supplies—usually, items I have no intention of using. Dr. Aurelius says it gives me a sense of control, but I don't mention any of this to Katniss.
"Pleeeaassee?" She whines, pouting her lush, full, bottom lip out. I want to stand by my "no" but her pitiful, yet beautiful and sullen expression nearly makes it impossible.
"Fine," I finally acquiesce.
"Yay!" She jumps up and down like a kid on Christmas morning. I have never seen her this excited, which pushes all my doubts out the window. "Now remember, only pack what we can carry. And I'll bring my bow, so you don't actually need to pack that much food," she says, prancing toward the steps.
"Mostly just water," she spins around just before she reaches the steps and gives me that brilliant smile once more. Then she disappears up the stairs.
Seeing her this happy and carefree pushes away all my doubts and insecurities. Who needs lists when they have a Katniss?
I guess I am about to find out if she can really shoot as well as she claims, I tell myself, stunned that I actually agreed to this.
"Oh lord, what have I gotten myself into?" I mumble to myself after I wake up and pull out my hiking backpack, not even sure where to even begin. And then I remember the backpack my father gave me as a gift just before I left for my "extended vacation," as he refers to it as.
"What in the world is this?" I ask my father as I hold the backpack in my hands. Something in my brain knows that it is a backpack, but it looks like no backpack I have ever seen before.
"It's called a hydration backpack, but it's not just your ordinary backpack, it is top of the line. It can store up to twenty liters of water comfortably, and it still has room to store other things you might need. Plus, it has a built in first aid kit, you know ... in case you come across any wild bears out there," Dad explains.
"Okay, um ... thanks dad," I tell him, pulling him in for a hug.
"Nothing but the best for my son."
I shake the memory from my head and proceed to fill the insulated pack that holds the water with filtered water. I look around the kitchen and decide to fill some baggies with an assortment of high-protein snack foods. Things that will last ... just in case. Because I mean ... who knows what kind of creatures we will come across in the forest.
I fill the baggies with nuts, jerky, crackers, and an assortment of dried fruit like raisins and cranberries. I throw in another assortment of dehydrated fruit. Then I shove a few bags of pre-packaged, pre-drained tuna into the side pouch, thinking we can eat them with the crackers. And then my lips curve into a grin when my eye catches the platter of cheese buns, which I know are Katniss's favorite, and I can't help myself. I wrap them up individually with some clear, plastic wrap and shove them in with all the rest.
By lunch time Katniss is nearly bursting with excitement to leave. I decide that I've got all that I can fit into my backpack and the two of us head out, on a search for this mysterious cave.
"Are you ready?" Katniss asks.
"As ready as I can be," I mumble apprehensively.
"Don't overthink it Peeta. Trust me, nature always provides," she says with so much certainty.
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"It's so beautiful out here," Katniss says as we begin our journey up the mountain.
She fills our time with stories of her and her father; how he would take her camping when she was a little girl. I can't help but think that I would suffer through a thousand lifetimes of pain just to see that sparkle in her eye.
"I was supposed to take Brendan camping before he—" I get choked up on my words and shake my head. God, I feel like such an emotional pansy. Get it together Peeta, I scold myself.
Katniss does not react how I expected her to. I keep my eyes averted from her, but then I feel her hand slither into mine.
"I'm sorry," I tell her.
"Peeta, it's okay. Do you want to ... tell me about him?" She asks timidly, her voice so gentle and soothing.
This takes me by surprise. "What?" I blurt out, turning my head to meet her gaze. Usually, when I get choked up from talking about my son, it tends to make other people uncomfortable and then they are quick to change the subject.
"Sometimes it helps. I mean ... I know everyone grieves differently, but for me, it always helps to be able to talk about my dad. By talking about him, it was like, in a way I was keeping a piece of him alive," she says.
The corners of my lips curve up at her statement. She's right. Maybe that's why my grief is so stunted, because all my friends and family do anything they can to avoid the topic. "He would have loved you ... he would have been fascinated by your bow. H-he loved adventure, the wilderness— animals. He's actually the reason I decided to take a break from modern life and come out here," I say, opening my arms up, referring to these mountains.
"What do you mean?"
I pause for a moment, trying to think of how-to best word what I want to say. "It's okay, you don't have to—"
"No, I— I don't know why Katniss, but for some reason, I find myself . . . I don't know . . . wanting to share with you." Perhaps there is actually some truth to that statement. None of my friends, or family talks about Delly or Brendan. They pretend like it never happened. And maybe this is what I've needed all along; a friend to share my thoughts with— to listen to my pain. Not a therapist, but an actual friend to lend an ear.
I think she blushes as her lips curve up into a smile. "Me too Peeta," she says.
"Just before he— before the accident I promised him our next vacation would be . . . a sort of camping adventure. You see, every summer from the time he was born, we would pick a new place and spend a month there. And for this summer, he picked the mountains. I planned to rent a cabin in the woods; we would go exploring, maybe even bring a tent and spend the night outdoors. He was so happy, so thrilled, his entire being just lit up the entire room at the thought of it. And then," Katniss smiles again and it's like she's hugging my heart.
"After the funeral, I just . . . I immersed myself in my work. I kept myself so busy— I guess so I didn't have time to think about him being gone. My dad kept telling me to give it time. That the pain would eventually fade. But after almost a year, it still hurt as if it were the first day. I knew I needed to do something different. Because I don't want to be stuck in the past. Because . . . as much as I don't want to let him go, I know I need to live my life. He would want that for me. So . . . here I am."
"I am so sorry Peeta, I cannot even begin to imagine the pain you must feel on a daily basis. I lost my dad when I was young, but to lose a child—" Katniss trails off, a shudder rippling through her.
"How did it— no, I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry," she says, shaking her head.
"It was my wife," I blurt out in disbelief. It's like Katniss is some kind of magician, compelling me to share my story. "Her name was Delly," Katniss nods, her strides in perfect synchronicity with mine. "We married young. She got pregnant just after we graduated college. I mean . . . we weren't that young, but still pretty young."
"What did you guys go to school for?"
"Delly got her nursing degree, and I got a business degree." Katniss's eyes furrow into a frown and I feel compelled to explain myself. "I know, I know, that's boring. But ever since I was a little boy, I always wanted to take over my father's business. But I'll have you know I minored in art," I tell her with a chuckle.
"Art? W-what kind of art? I-I didn't know you were an artist," she says, puzzled, as if she's trying to figure something out.
"Painting mostly, but I've dabbled in sculpting. Can't say I'm very good at it though. But painting . . . painting is my heart. It's my go-to therapy when I'm stressed out. Or happy, or sad, angry, excited, blah, blah, blah, you get the picture, right? I actually have a little side business selling some of my artwork."
"That's amazing Peeta, I think everyone should have that one thing that makes them happy. So, what happened after your son was born?"
I sense that something is bothering her, but I can't put my finger on it. Figuring that she'll share with me if she wants to, I press on.
"Everything was great. We had a wonderful marriage, both of us had amazing childhoods. No baggage, you know? It was like the picture-perfect life in suburbia. We were thrilled to become parents. Delly worked in a nursing home up until her due date and she had already made plans to stay at home with the baby for the first six months. We had it all mapped out. And then Brendan was born . . . that was when everything changed."
"How do you mean?"
"Dell was in labor for over two days, adamant for the entire time to have a natural childbirth and refusing any and all pain medication. Two days later and very little progress, she ended up having to have a C-section. I think that, in and of itself took its toll on her. And then . . . I think she was really hoping for a girl, and he came out as a boy," Katniss snaps her head up, her eyes furrowing with something akin to anger.
"Don't get me wrong, she loved him, she did. The doctor said she suffered from something slightly more severe than post-partum depression, but not quite post-partum psychosis. She had complications after her C-Section which resulted in a lot of pain, in which the doctor just fed her pain pills. After a while they lost their effectiveness and so he just kept increasing the dose."
"Oh shit! No—" Katniss gasps, seeming to know where this story is headed.
"She hid it from me for the longest time— and her parents too. By the time I realized something was wrong— it was . . . she was—"
"In too deep," Katniss finishes for me, as if she has personal experience with this very issue. I nod my assent.
"I tried talking to her, I begged her to get help. And after . . . after she died, I just keep thinking that if I had done this differently, or if I did that sooner, or maybe if I wasn't so focused on the baby that maybe I could have helped her. Maybe I would have realized it sooner and gotten her the help she needed when it could've helped."
"Peeta, it wasn't your fault," Katniss states, grabbing my hand and pulling me to a stop. "I can tell you firsthand that you cannot "make" someone "want" to get help. They have to want it for themselves for it to work— and stick. Otherwise, you might as well be talking to a brick wall."
I nod, knowing how right she is. It's the same thing my parents have said, my friends, and even my therapist. "After the accident I learned that she was fired from her job at the nursing home over six months ago from pocketing narcotics from her patients. I never even knew that she got fired. I mean . . . how was I so blind, so stupid not to know my own wife wasn't working?" I shake my head from the memory and Katniss places her hand on my shoulder. "Even now as I think back on the last year or so, I still don't see it. She woke up every morning, showered, fixed her hair, did her make-up and was gone for twelve hours a day, three days a week."
I turn to look at Katniss and she doesn't look shocked at all. "Let me guess, she was with her dealer? Or . . . she was searching for drugs, or searching for the money to get the drugs?"
I don't say a word, but from the look on Katniss's face she knows she's right. "Was it heroine?"
I pause and take a deep breath. "Yeah. How'd you know?"
"I um . . . had a similar experience."
It's my turn to look shocked, but then Katniss's eyes widen to the size of saucers. "No, no! God Peeta, no, not me. I've never— no. It was um . . . My uh . . . my mother."
I nod.
"So, the night that it happened, Delly stormed into our apartment, and we had words. She said she was taking Brendan and going to her parents. It was the middle of the night. I begged her to let him sleep, that I would take him over there first thing in the morning. She shoved me to the floor and took him anyway. I called Delly's parents to ask them to give me a call when they got there so I'd know they were okay, but—"
"They had no idea she was coming," once again, Katniss finishes the story as if she was the one who lived it.
"I waited by the phone all night. I just had this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach . . . like this feeling of dread. I just knew something bad was going to happen. But all the while I kept saying to myself that if they would just be okay, I would go back to the judge and demand to have her committed. I would do anything to help her . . . I would have. But then . . . I fell asleep by the phone and its ringing woke me up."
"No—" Katniss gasps, reaching up to cover her mouth.
"It was the hospital, a very sweet nurse named Annie. She urged me to come to the hospital right away. I didn't even get dressed; rushed right out of the house in my pajamas and slippers, but by the time I got there I was— it was too late. They were both gone."
"Peeta stop," Katniss instructs me, and I halt my steps obediently. She walks around me so that she's standing in front of me instead of beside me. I am confused as to what she is doing when she wraps her arms around my shoulders, squeezing me tightly. Her mouth must be next to my ear because her breath tickles the side of my neck.
"I know this doesn't help, or do anything, and they're just words, but I am so sorry Peeta. I am so sorry you lost your son."
0 – 0 – 0
[ Katniss ]
"You know that you can . . . you know, talk to me too, right?" Peeta asks me as we hike toward the mountain. His question freezes me in place.
"What? Of course, I know that, we talk every day," I reply casually, as if I have no clue what he means.
"That's not . . . I meant about . . . whatever haunts you in your dreams. Whatever scares you so much that—"
"Thank you Peeta, but I— I'm not ready to talk about that yet."
"I understand. Just know that . . . whenever you are ready, my ears are open," the corners of my lips turn up at his kind words. This boy— this man is just so . . . perfect.
"So, you're probably wondering how I knew so much about—" I begin, sucking in a lung full of air.
"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious," he admits before pointing to the left. "I think it's this way."
I nod, and we both turn in the direction he was pointing in.
"So, my dad died when I was little. And . . . well, I guess I should back up. My parents have like . . . the epic love story. They knew each other since kindergarten. Dad lived on the wrong side of the tracks, mom was the prim and proper little girl from a wealthy family. They fell in love. Hard. Got married when they were sixteen. They actually eloped; they snuck out one night and hopped a train a few towns over and got married. Then, they both went back to their homes as if nothing happened. Dad worked two jobs to save enough money for them to get their own place while mom earned money as a healer. About a year into their secret lives mom came down with a bad flu. Except, it wasn't the flu and her mother, who was also a healer figured out she was pregnant."
"Oh wow!" Peeta chuckles, his blue eyes sparkling.
"Yeah, it's a crazy story. So, when my grandmother realized what happened, she kicked my mom out on her feet. Thankfully, dad had enough money saved up, so they ran from their lives and started new ones together. They were so, so in love. We didn't have much growing up but we were happy. We were so happy," I stare off, feeling nostalgic. "Prim was born about five years after me. Dad worked in the mines. He knew it was dangerous work, but he loved it." I notice Peeta listening intently as I tell the fairy tale of my parents.
"It was a Thursday when it happened. I was in school and heard the sirens blaring throughout the district. My dad had always told me if I ever heard those sirens to grab my sister and run straight home. So, that's what I did. Me and Prim made it home just in time as Stephen— Stephen was dad's boss; just as he was breaking the news to my mother." My eyes prickle from the memory, and this time it's Peeta who reaches out and places a gentle hand on top of mine.
"Mom was in a daze for the next few days, but I think we all were. I mean . . . my dad was just so . . . alive and full of life just that morning. And there was no body, they um . . . couldn't find any remains." Peeta winces from this revelation, as do I.
"After a week my mom was still too spaced out to take care of me or Prim, so it was up to me to feed us. I made sure my little sister ate, went to school, did her homework and took a bath. I kept thinking that she just needed time, that she would snap out of it soon."
Peeta remains silent as I tell my story. "About six months later something changed. I woke up one morning and she was cooking breakfast. She sent me and Prim off to school, and when we came home the house was spotless. It was like . . . she was manic or something. There would be days when she was happy and full of energy, and other days where she was just . . . volatile. I was sixteen years old when I found her first stash— I recognized it from pictures in Health class. I thought I knew what it was, but it wasn't until I found the hidden container of needles that really just . . . confirmed everything. I tried— I really tried to get her to get help. But she claimed she needed the dope; it was the only thing that eased the pain from my father's absence. And then . . . I threatened her. I told her she had to choose. The drugs, or me and Prim."
I bite the inside of my cheek and force myself to continue. "That day when Prim and I came home from school—" No matter how hard I bite, I am unable to stop the steady flow of tears that leak out of my eyes.
"I- I found her in her room— on her bed— dad's side of the bed with a needle stuck in her arm. Her words haunt me every day. You see, before I left for school— just after I threatened her, she said to me, 'You're wrong Katniss, I don't have to choose'."
Peeta gasps in horror from my story, but I just push ahead. "Thankfully, I was seventeen years old and only had one year before I could legally become my sister's guardian. This guy who lived in town— he was good friends with my dad and he sorta took me and Prim under his wing after mom—um…he let us live with him. And so yeah, that's how I know."
"Oh my god Katniss, that is so horrible." He stops, pulling me into his arms and whispers softly into my ear, "I know these are just words, but I am so sorry that happened to you. That wasn't fair— or right, but my god, you are so unbelievably brave."
His words abruptly stop and I slam into him from his sudden halt.
"W-what's wrong Peeta?" I take a step closer to see what's got him so frightened, but he holds his arm out to stop me.
"It's a snake Katniss, stay back. I don't want it to bite you."
I reach over my shoulder and grab an arrow. "Let me see. It's probably just a harmless snake, there are hardly any poisonous snakes in these woods."
I lean into Peeta to get a closer look at the serpent. Peeta's arms hover around me protectively and then it's like everything that happens next happens in slow motion. The snake hisses at me, it's breath releasing the aroma of blood and roses.
"Oh my god Peeta, it's a tracker jacker," I tense up, grabbing tightly onto Peeta's arm.
"Slowly back away so it doesn't feel threatened," Peeta instructs me. Together, we both slowly take a step back. And then I it rises up, retracting its head in a split second. Just before it lunges at me, Peeta leaps in front of me, blocking me from its line of sight.
"Shit, fuck!" Peeta screams out. The snake begins to slither away at record speed, but I'll be damned if I let it get away unharmed. I string my arrow, narrowing my eyes as I follow it in its path. Then, as it begins slither, seeking safety in a tree, I release my arrow, impaling the snake through its eye, pinning it to the tree.
"Peeta! Are you okay?" I ask him. Only moments ago, he was full of life, his pink cheeks rosy from our hike. Now he is pale, white as a ghost.
"Yeah, I'm okay. But uh, I think…we should head . . . home," he says before collapsing to the ground.