DISCLAIMER: I am upping the rating for this fic from "T" to "M". This chapter is mildly graphic.
Rated M for: Graphic situations, mentions of drugging, rape, contemplation of abortion, miscarriage and physical abuse. Please be a responsible reader!
Also, we'll only be hearing from Katniss this chapter. But don't worry, Peeta will have a LOT to say in chapter 5.
Fairy Tales & Happy Endings
By: always-andshewrites
Chapter 4 – Just Details
— Katniss —
"Peeta, Peeta, can you hear me? Peeta? Stay with me, Peeta. Do you hear me? Stay with me Peeta. Don't you dare think about leaving me alone out here. You're not allowed to make me care about you and then just leave." There is no filter between my mouth and brain, my words flowing freely as I work diligently to extract the venom from Peeta's leg.
Thankfully, before my mother escaped into a life of heroin, she was one of the best healers in town. And…for Peeta's sake, let's hope I paid just enough attention to save his life.
I've never thought of myself as a healer, but as soon as Peeta hit the ground it was like my instincts took over. I'm not sure how I wasn't freaking out, but it was like a calm took over me. After rushing to Peeta's side, I scanned our surroundings to see what I had to work with. A huge wave of relief washed over me when I spotted the freshwater stream to my right, and not that much further ahead was the cave that Peeta and I were searching for.
Deciding that Peeta won't die in the next two minutes, I sprint to the tree that will be our saving grace.
As I'm plucking the leaves from the branches, I'm reminded of the time my mother treated a patient who was bitten by one of the Capitol's newest mutts, the deadly Tracker Jacker Serpent. I remember Mom's uncertainty as she hoped and prayed the antidote used for Tracker Jacker Hornets would also cure the ailing man on her table. We learned the hard way that day while yes, the same antidote would work, however, if you didn't administer it within five minutes, instead of intense hallucinations, these venomous snakes would send you straight to your grave.
Once I collect what I presume will be enough leaves, (I can always come back for more if I need to), I pinch my nose in hopes of diluting the rancid taste and stuff a handful into my mouth and quickly begin chewing. My mother explained how the leaves worked; something about an enzyme in your saliva that activates its healing properties, but it will only draw the poison out if you treat it in time. You'll know almost instantly if you're too late, as the leg will swell, almost doubling in size. Within minutes it will begin darkening, morphing from blood red to purple, and eventually, necrotizing and turning black.
Once the leaves are nice and soggy, I spread them out and position them so that they're covering the two minuscule pinholes on Peeta's leg. My stomach churns as the yellowish-green, bile-looking pus oozes from the tiny openings, but I power through. I'll do whatever I have to do, even if it makes me sick because keeping Peeta alive is all that matters. And step one is removing as much venom in the shortest possible time frame.
When I am certain I can't possibly remove another drop of the poison, I look around, trying to figure out how I'll get Peeta to the cave. With less than an hour of daylight left, we need to seek shelter, and fast. Peeta is unconscious, so he'll be no help with the transition. Then I remember the sleeping bags and get an idea.
You don't realize how heavy a person is until you have to carry, drag, and roll them from point A to point B. After some tricky maneuvering, I position Peeta on top of one of the sleeping bags I've rolled out. Once he's secure for transport, I pull/drag an unconscious Peeta up the hill and to the mouth of the cave.
Before deciding to make camp for the night, I take a minute to catch my breath while simultaneously scanning the cave from top to bottom, making sure it's safe. Aside from a few harmless spiders, the cave appears completely vacant. I'm more than relieved that not only does it seem to be safe, but it actually sits over a portion of the stream, meaning we'll have a constant supply of fresh water at our fingertips.
Veering on the side of caution, I check Peeta's wound one more time, deciding that more leaves can't hurt.
When I've run out of things to do, I crouch down next to Peeta and rest my head on the spot just above the place where his heart is. Relief courses through my body when my head rises and falls with his chest, in addition to the consistent thrum thrum of his heart.
"Okay, breathing is good. And his heart sounds strong," I say to myself.
Peeta's OCD for never going anywhere unprepared worked out to our advantage. I brought my bow, fully intending to go hunting for our dinner tonight. But with Peeta in the state he's in, I would never feel comfortable leaving him for any amount of time. I open the backpack to see what all goodies Peeta packed for us and my brows draw together at the strange looking, water-holder-contraption-thingy attached to the inside of the bag.
"What in the world?" I ask myself, then push it aside. Under the weird water-thingamajig, there is a variety of high in protein, healthy snacks that won't spoil, and then the corners of my lips quirk up, followed instantly by my eyes filling with water when I spot the cheese buns, wrapped tightly in a clear plastic wrap.
Once the adrenaline has faded from my body, I munch on some crackers before curling up next to Peeta. It's the best way to keep an eye on him, to make sure he doesn't suddenly stop breathing. Or so I keep telling myself.
"Peeta," I try pleading with him again, not sure if he can even hear me. But for some reason, I keep going. "I don't know if you can hear me, but…please don't die. Okay Peeta? You have to stay with me. I—I can't lose you, I just can't. I…I need you, so you have to wake up, okay?" I sit there and just stare at an unmoving Peeta, begging—pleading to him in my mind to wake up.
And then I ask myself…when exactly did I begin needing him? When did I start caring so much for this blue-eyed, blonde-headed, kind and compassionate to a fault man?
Minutes pass by, and for the life of me, I can't come up with an answer.
I close my eyes for a moment and vivid images of Peeta's eyes, so bright and blue, and full of life flash behind my eyelids. The world…not just any world but my world would be so dark without Peeta. When I think about never seeing him again, to never hear his laugh again, or to feel his arms around my body makes it suddenly hard to breathe. It feels as if someone has stacked a hundred pound bricks on my chest. And then I think about how sweet, kind, and gentle he truly is. And all the times he's rushed into my room to comfort me, to make sure I'm okay each time he's awakened by my screams. Not once has he complained about it either. If I lose him I won't, I can't—no, I can't think like that. He's going to be okay. He is. He has to be. Because…losing him isn't something I could come back from.
While my gaze is locked onto Peeta's golden, fluttering lashes; I'm mesmerized by how long they are. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, those hundred pound bricks return with a vengeance, smacking me right in the face.
I am in love with this man.
This realization should terrify me. It should send me running for the hills. But instead, I curl closer into Peeta's side, nuzzling my face against his chest and beg him one more time. "Please, please Peeta, stay with me. Please don't die. I need you to wake up." My next words come out in a silent whisper. "Stay with me." I repeat those three words on a loop over and over in my head, like a mantra, as if saying the words alone will somehow make them true.
Stay with me, stay with me, stay with me, stay with me…
Suddenly, something shifts beneath me, followed by a light vibration. I bolt up to an upright position, realizing that the vibration is Peeta trying to talk. "What's that? What did you say?" I blurt out, grabbing Peeta's hands and squeezing them tightly.
"Always," he rasps.
"Always what?" My brows draw together in confusion.
"You said to stay with you." Peeta replies simply, his lips tugging up at the corners. "So, I said Always.
Relief. Exhilaration. Pure unmitigated joy fills my insides, and I lurch myself over Peeta's body.
"Katniss, Katniss, don't cry. It's okay. I'm okay," Peeta insists, but his words confuse me even more.
What is he talking about? "I'm not crying," I wail. It just isn't possible. I don't cry, haven't done it in years. And then I'm confounded, because why is the ground shaking, and where are those tortured, animalistic sounds coming from? And then…damn those bricks. Peeta's right. I am crying, except I'm not just crying, but bawling. Like, the kind of gut-wrenching, inconsolable sobs that form deep in your belly, choking you until you have to gasp for air, and then eventually, you're stuck with an irritating bout of the hiccups.
"Katniss, hey, hey, Katniss, it's okay. I'm okay. I'm not going anywhere," Peeta assures me in an exhausted, gravelly, recently-revived-from-consciousness voice as he rubs circles against my back.
"I—I thought you—were dead—I thought—I'd never see you—again—" I manage to choke the words out through my sobs. "I can't—I can't lose you Peeta—" I lift my head from his chest and shake it from side to side, as if needing to provide him with a visual aid to go along with my words, all the while, wondering where I left my dignity.
Peeta can't die, he can't. He's too important to me. He's too…good. He hasn't had a chance to heal, or found happiness yet. And if anyone in this screwed up world deserves to be happy, it's him. And…and I can't lose another person I Io–
"It's okay Katniss. I'm alive, and I'm okay. You didn't think you could get rid of me that easily, did you? Besides, if I die, who's going to annoy the daylights out of you, or tease your horrific cooking skills?" Peeta jokes.
'This is so backwards', I think to myself. Get it together Katniss. Peeta is the one who almost died; you should be the one consoling him.
I snap up, forcing myself back together. "I'm sorry," I say, embarrassment finally kicking in as I dry my face with the back of my arm. "I was just—I'm glad you're okay." I reach behind me and grab the backpack. "Water—do you want some water?"
"Yeah. That sounds…good." Peeta nods, licking his dry, cracked lips.
"Here you go, I uh…don't know how to take this thing out." I hold the water canteen to his lips, and he takes it from me. He reaches in and fumbles with something in the backpack and within seconds, he frees the weird water bottle thing from the pack.
"It's called a CamelBak," he says after a few small sips. Then he lowers the "Camel Back" and asks if there's more, not wanting to deplete it all in one go. I point to the stream, assuring him there's plenty.
"Where are we, by the way?" Peeta wonders, scanning the perimeter of the cave with a bewildered expression.
"The cave," I tell him proudly, smiling and then reach into his bag, pulling out a pack of peanut butter crackers and handing them to him.
"Do you mean the cave?" Peeta asks, his eyes lighting up with excitement.
I smile and nod again. "Yep. THE cave. We made it."
"What happened? Why do I feel like I've been hit by a truck?"
"What's the last thing you remember?" I ask him, worried the effects of the Tracker Jacker venom are affecting his mental faculties.
"I remember…" He pauses, his eyes darting to the side as he tries to recall the events that led us here. "We were walking. Talking about…then I saw a…was there a snake?"
I nod, helping myself to some water. "A Tracker Jacker. The serpent kind. It had its sights set on me, but then you jumped in front of me." I gasp, realizing that Peeta risked his life, without even a second's hesitation for me.
Why would he do that?
"He won't be bothering us anymore; I sent an arrow between his eyes, impaling him to the tree he was trying to make his great escape in."
"Okay, wow. Well, first of all, I wish I could have seen that. And second…how am I alive? I've heard horror stories about people getting bitten by Tracker Jackers, but none where they lived to tell about it."
"You can thank my mom for that."
Peeta narrows his eyes at my statement. "Oh, I just mean…my mom was a healer before she um…went off the rails." Peeta's facial muscles slowly relax as I explain. "She was an exceptionally talented healer. Probably the best in all of District 12. I guess it's a good thing I half paid attention when she was tending to her patients in our living room." I pause for a second, a grin creeping up my lips. "The funny thing is, if you had asked me before this happened," I motion to the bite on Peeta's leg, "I wouldn't have been able to tell you jack about treating Tracker Jacker bites, but it was like the second you dropped, all these memories came crashing to the surface."
"Did you say District 12?" Peeta asks, his genuine curiosity taking me by surprise.
"Um…yeah. That's where I grew up." I answer timidly.
"You're joking, right?"
"No," I shake my head, wondering why he seems so intrigued.
Peeta's laughter fills the cave, then he winces in pain. "What's so funny?" I demand, feeling as if I've been left out of some sort of inside joke. And then I immediately follow it up with, "What's wrong, is it your leg?"
"I'm okay, I'm okay," he waves me off. "And, nothing's…funny but…rather curious. Or maybe…ironic. I'm also a native of 12."
"Shut up!" I blurt out. "No you're not."
"I'm serious Katniss. Ever heard of 'Mellark's Bakery'? It's been in my family for like…I don't know, a hundred years or so."
Instantly, my mind flashes me an image of the only bakery in 12, the very bakery my father would take me and Prim too when we were little girls.
"When I was just two-years-old, my grandpa would bring me to work with him. Taught me everything I know about baking. Then my dad inherited it after my grandpa died. But we ended up moving when my dad got accepted into law school, but he still kept the bakery going."
Peeta has never lied to me…or at least, not that I know of. And he has no reason to lie about this.
"You know Katniss, it's very likely that we ran into each other. In 12. Maybe…maybe that's why I instantly felt this pull towards you."
I am overwhelmed by this knowledge that I don't even question his last statement. Mellark's bakery. District 12. My father used to buy Prim and I cookies from there. I remember staring into the window and admiring the beautiful, intricately decorated cakes and cookies, my mouth water in anticipation. I also remember once thinking that whoever was in charge of the decorating…that they must be a very talented artist.
Peeta Mellark. PM. Suddenly, my brain is infiltrated with delicate brushstrokes on a canvas, oozing a million shades of green, reds, yellows and oranges. A picture of a forest in the prime of autumn.
"Katniss, are you okay?" Peeta tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, and there's something so intimate about this gesture. From the very first moments I met Peeta, I couldn't deny my attraction to him. Or how mesmerizingly handsome I found him to be. If we had met anywhere else, I doubt he would have noticed me. Because he's just…well, there's no other way to say it other than he's gorgeous. He's a beautiful man with a perfect body. Broad shoulders, a strong, solid chest, thick arms, and calves…oh those calves! And someone like that would never be attracted…or have any interest in someone like me. I don't stick out. I'm plain. Ordinary. I'm not that pretty, and I'd never win any awards for my personality. But somehow, the way he looks at me, the penetrating way his eyes peer into mine, it's as if I'm the most beautiful girl he's ever seen.
"Come here," Peeta says, pulling me into his arms.
My brain is screaming "NO!", while my body seems to have a mind of its own. I should put some distance between us because this can only end in heartache for me. But I can't, but even more, I don't want to. So I obey his request, curling into his side and resting my head against his chest. He pulls me in tighter and rests his chin on my head, releasing a content sigh.
"Katniss," he speaks my name with so much emotion that it sends shivers up my arms.
I'm afraid of what he's going to say, but I dumbly respond with, "Yeah?"
"I…um…" he falters, which only adds to my anxiety. "Maybe it's the near-death experience providing me with the extra courage, but I feel like I need to tell you this before I lose the nerve."
Oh great. Here it comes. The "I like you as a person, just nothing more. Can we still be friends," conversation.
"O-okay." I sputter, terrified of his next words.
"There's something here, isn't there? I mean, um…between us. I'm not imagining it, right?" Peeta asks, sounding much smaller than he actually is.
This takes me by surprise, it's the last thing I expected him to say. Wondering if he's trying to get one over on me or if he's actually serious, I crane my neck to meet his eyes, searching for the slightest hint of deception.
"I think…maybe you hit your head when you fell," I lightly quip, trying to make this transition as painless as possible. And perhaps to give him an out—it's a perfect opportunity for him to retract his words.
"Katniss," he says my name again, his eyes darkening and blazing with…an emotion I can't quite name. "I've felt this…pull towards you from the moment you cornered me with your arrow. And I've tried, God have I tried to shove it down and pretend it's not there. Because trust me, I know I'm screwed up and broken in so many ways. But when I'm with you, for the first time in a really long time I feel like…I feel like maybe I'm not quite as damaged as I once believed. I feel like…you get me, that you understand me in ways no one else does." Peeta pauses for a second, his blue eyes still locked on my gray ones.
"You get me on an entirely different level like no one else ever has before. And…I think we could be good together, Katniss." He reaches out, cupping the base of my head and running the pad of his thumb against my cheek. I close my eyes, savoring the sensation of his touch. "Please say something, Katniss. Tell me I'm not imagining this…that you feel something for me too."
"Peeta, I…" I begin, unsure as to what to say. Inside I'm screaming, doing a round of cartwheels, followed by my happy dance, all the while, internally yelling, "YES, YES, I WANT THIS, I WANT YOU!" I avert my eyes from Peeta's gaze, choosing to focus on my hands and the jagged fingernail that needs clipping.
"Katniss, don't shut me out," Peeta's voice is firm. Then, he tilts my chin up, forcing me to look at him.
"I…maybe…you…we should probably talk about this when you're better. You're just feeling grateful because you think I saved your life."
"No." Peeta declares firmly. "Maybe you could use that defense if I hadn't felt this way before we left this morning. Or last night. Yesterday. Last week. I can't begin to tell you how many times I've almost told you, and a few more hours isn't going to change anything. I've been afraid, too cowardly to face the possibility of your rejection." He slides another piece of hair across my face and out of my eyes.
"Don't get me wrong Katniss, my heart feels like it's going to jump out of my chest right now, but I guess…I wanted, needed you to know how I feel. How I've always felt."
"I…"
"I know it's scary as hell, Katniss. I'm terrified, too. Because as much as I want you, I am equally petrified of getting hurt again. I don't think my heart could survive another loss…like before. But you…from the moment I met you I knew you were special. And there's something about you that makes me want to accept that risk. Because…you're worth it, Katniss."
I search Peeta's face for any sign that he's misleading me. But…his eyes glisten with…hope. And they're just so…genuine that I can't not trust him.
A shudder courses through my body, tingling from Peeta's words. I don't know where the courage comes from, but I ease myself into his lap, taking extra care to avoid the injury to his leg. With my knees digging into the floor of the cave on either side of his hips, I wrap my arms around his neck, tangling my fingers through his messy hair, close the distance between us, and then finally, our lips collide into pure bliss.
Of course, Peeta's worth the risk. He's worth everything and more. I just wish I knew how to tell him.
kpkpkpkpkpkpkpkp
One Month Later —
"Dad, it's been over a month. I'm fine. Dr. Latier assured me there would be no lasting damage from the Tracker Jacker venom. Actually, he said his tests didn't detect a single trace of venom, he said most likely because Katniss removed it before it had a chance to enter my bloodstream."
As I make my way down the stairs, I hear Peeta talking–clearly, to his dad on the phone. I don't think a single day has gone by in which someone with the Mellark name hasn't shown up on the caller ID. Each time the phone rings I prepare myself for the vast array of emotions that are sure to follow, knowing that the call is always for him.
Firstly and mostly, I'm filled with a certain amount of joy and it warms my heart to see the closeness Peeta shares with not just his parents, but his two older brothers as well. And for a brief moment, I find myself longing for the days when my mother valued her sobriety. Before my father disintegrated into dust, becoming one with the mines. When my sister was my best friend—my little duck, and the single most important person in my life. But the past is in the past and it doesn't do to dwell on what no longer is.
An immediate emptiness almost always comes next. I faced the facts long ago, that I was no longer the recipient of worried, doting parents. That there would never be anyone to call just to check in, to ask how I'm doing, or to fret whether I'm getting enough to eat. Or better yet, offering to make a four hour, round trip drive just to bring me some homemade chicken soup. (And yes, Peeta's mother did exactly that.)
Jealousy and envy are always the last to show their ugly faces. I'm not proud of it, and I kind of hate myself for feeling this way. But it never lasts long before I find myself longing, craving to be a part of Peeta's family. To someday be intertwined in his life, I would even welcome all the drama and family bickering…Geez, am I pathetic.
Ahh, wishful thinking Katniss, I tell myself. When pigs become kosher and Reindeer fly.
I keep waiting for the bubble to pop, for Peeta to say, 'Oh…just kidding.' Because everything is just too perfect. I am too happy. And good things just don't happen to me.
Ever since that night in the cave Peeta and I have been riding this insatiable high. We have been living in pure bliss atop cloud 9 for over a month. I can't recall a time in my entire existence on this planet that I've been happier than this last month with Peeta. And the icing on the cake (I know, corny baker's pun) Peeta's apartment (in the real world) is less than fifteen minutes from my place.
I'm about to make my presence known when Peeta says, "Dad, she's amazing." I don't have to see Peeta's face to know he's smiling. "She's so beautiful—she's got these stormy-grey eyes…I'm telling you Dad, looking into her eyes is like gazing at the moon."
Peeta pauses again for a few seconds, listening to whatever response his dad is giving him. "You're going to love her, Dad. She—"
My cheeks heat up with embarrassment from Peeta's gushing to his dad. And then the finality of his words sink in. He wants his dad to meet me?
Feeling guilty for listening in on Peeta's private conversation, I'm about to tiptoe back to my room when his next words freeze me in place.
"I do, Dad. I love this woman. I love Katniss." Peeta sounds in awe, as if he's just now realizing this for the first time.
My heart speeds up. I've known for a while now that I love Peeta, but to hear that he actually loves me back…well, let's just say if I was a girl who swooned, I would definitely be swooning.
And then the full brevity of his words hits me. Oh. My. God. Peeta loves…me.
"Not only do I love her, I'm absolutely, without a doubt, certain that I'm insanely, madly, and irrevocably bat-shit crazy in love with her. She's just…Dad, she's amazing. She's so beautiful, Dad, inside and out. She's kind, caring, and compassionate to a fault, but she's also stubborn as a mule." I can't help but smile at Peeta's words. I'm not so sure about all the rest, but in regards to the stubbornness, he's hit it right on the nail.
"I know, I know." Peeta replies to his dad. "I never thought it was possible to be happy again…after I lost Brendan."
Eavesdropping on a conversation about myself is one thing, but it just feels entirely wrong to listen in on Peeta sharing his private, innermost feelings about his son. So, making sure I'm quiet as a mouse, I tiptoe back up the stairs, taking extra care to avoid the creaky plank on second to last step. I feel as if I am about to explode when I finally burst into my room. It takes every ounce of strength I possess not to scream joyously once the door is closed behind me.
I fall onto my bed and stuff my face in a pillow, kicking my legs behind me like a love sick teenager.
Oh my God. Peeta loves me. Is this really happening. But…how is this real? How is it that this amazing, kind, empathetic, and just…perfect man loves me? I'm nothing special, I'm nobody. Surely I must have imagined those words, or I've finally gone mad and I'm living in a fantasy world, trapped inside my own mind.
Then those bricks come back with a searing reverence and whack me in the face. I have to tell him. But more importantly, he needs to know. I can't keep something of this magnitude from him. I mean…the chances of our relationship lasting…or progressing into…more, well, as much as I want it to, it's pretty unlikely. But still, I have to tell him.
I go into the bathroom and splash some water onto my face. My heart is racing, pounding like a jackhammer against my ribcage. Because I know that once I tell him my truth, his feelings are likely to change.
I force myself out of the bathroom, down the stairs, and into the den, where Peeta is lying, stretched out on the couch. His eyes are closed, but his lips are curved up into a slight smile on his face, so I know he's actually awake. I take a deep breath, summoning all the courage I can muster and make my way to him. I wriggle myself under his legs and take a seat on the couch.
His lips stretch even wider when he sees me. "Hello Beautiful," he greets me. Then he reaches for my arm and tugs me up towards him. It feels so good in his arms…nothing feels better than being held by this man.
Enjoy it while you can, the voice in my head taunts me. I know it's right, and I so relish the sensation of being sandwiched between the back of the sofa and Peeta's solid torso. He wriggles his arms out, wraps them around my back, squeezes me closer to his body and plants a kiss to my cheek.
We lie together on the couch for several minutes, neither of us saying a word, but the silence is comfortable. I love this about us. How neither of us feel the need to fill silence with empty, meaningless words. Sometimes, we spend hours upon hours talking about everything, nothing, and all that's inbetween—never running out of things to talk about. Then there are other times where we're two separate atoms, happy, contendly, and simply coexisting in the same space in a single room.
God, I don't want to tell him. I want to stay like this forever. I never want his arms to leave me. But it's better this way. It's better to get it out and in the open. It'll hurt way less when he leaves me now, versus later, when I've fallen even more in love with him.
I take a slow, measured breath, then purse my lips, slowly releasing the oxygen from my lungs. "Everything went to shit after my father died. It was like all the happiness had been sucked from our lives. Then my mother left me, and soon after that, my sister. I mean, my sister isn't gone, she's just away at school."
Peeta shifts his position next to me and tilts my chin up to meet his gaze, his eyes creasing into a confused expression. I won't be able to tell the story if he's looking at me with those big, crystalline blue eyes, so I rest my head on his chest and then I begin.
"I wasn't in a very good place when I met Marvel." Peeta's body goes rigid for a split second before his arms tighten around my waist protectively, as if he knows what I'm about to tell him. "I needed someone, and maybe he sensed my vulnerability. I gravitated to him…I needed him–in an unhealthy way and he was more than willing to hold me up when I was at my lowest."
There, I got the first part out, I think as I take another encouraging breath. "He was very attractive…I couldn't figure out why he would want me—he could—"
"Katniss," Peeta interrupts me. I know what he's going to say, so I lift my head up and meet his eyes.
"Peeta, I…I know what you're going to say. But I…I'm going to tell you about my nightmares. Or well, the source of them. I just…I just need you to listen for now. Can you…will you please do that for me?"
Pain flashes across Peeta's eyes. I can tell he wants to protest, but he remains silent and nods.
I take a deep breath and continue. "He could have had anyone he wanted. He was confident, self-assured, and maybe even slightly arrogant. He told me I was special. He said all the things I needed to hear. He was sweet and kind, patient and considerate. He was the perfect gentleman. He made me feel like I was beautiful on a daily basis. He treated me like a queen."
Peeta's arms envelop me a little tighter, letting me know that he's listening. Or maybe it's something else, I don't know.
"Six months into our relationship, I was spending more of my nights at his place than at my own apartment, so I did the logical thing and moved in with him. Not long after that…probably less than two weeks, I remember worrying that something was wrong with me. I'd go to bed early, get plenty of sleep and still, I'd wake up feeling hungover. I was groggy, lethargic, and had permanent black circles under my eyes. I was completely wiped out, all my energy depleted. I brushed it off as just being stressed out. Then came the bruises. I woke up one morning with these dark, purple splotches on my thighs…um…between my legs." I hesitate, not wanting to be too descriptive. Peeta nods, doing his best to keep his face stoic.
"And the insides of my arms matched my thighs. I had no memory of falling, tripping, or bumping into anything that would result in bruises in those places. I wracked my brain, searching for some kind of explanation as to how they got there."
Peeta's body stiffens next to me, and I think he's bracing himself for what comes next.
"I had this nagging feeling that I knew how they got there. But I didn't want to believe it. I was…" I pause for a second, savoring the feel of Peeta's arms, so firmly around my body, and I know it's the only thing keeping me grounded. I focus on his even, steady breaths as I prepare for my next words.
"I had never…um…been intimate before I met Marvel and I told him upfront I wouldn't be pressured to do so until I was ready. I guess in hindsight, I should have been suspicious at how accepting he was of that fact."
Peeta stiffens again, and I see the whites of his knuckles from his one free hand that's clenched tightly in a ball. "Katniss," he whispers my name, pain lacing his voice. "It's okay, you don't have—"
"I…I want to Peeta. And…I need you to know." He nods, pulling me tighter to his chest, wrapping both arms securely around me and resting his chin on my head. Right now, in this moment, I feel so safe. Like Peeta's arms are an impenetrable force around my body…and maybe even my mind.
"I needed to know what was happening to me, so I hid a camera in our bedroom. The next day while Marvel was at work, I took the camera with me to my friend's house. I wasn't brave enough to watch it alone. Or maybe…I needed someone there…a witness to confirm whether what I was seeing was real or not real." I take another deep breath, begging the images to leave my mind.
"Whatever I thought it was going to be…it was one-hundred times worse. You see, I used to have a cup of tea at night to help me sleep. He'd lace my tea. Once I was knocked out cold, he would…he did…he—" a shudder ripples through me, and I'm unable to say the words.
"It's okay Katniss," Peeta says, rubbing my arms.
His voice, his touch…both are soothing yet I'm afraid to turn my head and look at his face. Afraid I will see a face filled with disgust. He remains stiff next to me, but hasn't pulled away, so maybe that's a good sign.
"That wasn't even the worst of it. When he was done with me, he um…offered me tohis friends…like I was a…sports car or something and he wanted them to take me out for a test drive. There were two of them—while I lay in the bed we shared, unconscious and completely helpless. He got off—seemed to thoroughly enjoy watching his friends…have their way with me."
"My God Katniss," Peeta pulls in a sharp intake of air. But I'm still too afraid to meet his eyes, so I just continue.
"That's not even the worst part. After I found out what he was doing, I went to the doctor, terrified they had sentenced me to a life with HIV or God knows what kind of STD's. Thankfully though, it all came back negative. But the doctor…she had this look on her face…like…this somber, "bad news" expression just before she informed me I was pregnant."
Another shudder electrifies my senses as I try to shove the memory aside. But the doctor's face only becomes clearer. Her disapproving gaze. Those condescending eyes. The way her eyes flickered to my left hand. The slight, imperceptible shake of her head when my finger was absent from a ring.
"I went straight home to confront Marvel, but he denied everything. He called me a slut, a whore, practically every name in the book before accusing me of cheating. I was so angry. I was seeing red. I got up in his face, called him a coward. I told him he was a sadistic rapist, and what was worse was that he didn't have the balls to do it when I was conscious. He shoved me. I tumbled backwards over the couch, landing…crashing…shattering the glass coffee table."
I pause for a second, finding comfort in the fact that Peeta only continues to hold me tighter, occasionally hugging me.
"I…I wasn't going to keep it. I know it's wrong because…it wasn't the baby's fault. But—" To keep my tears at bay I dig my nails into my forearm, hoping I don't draw blood.
"The thought of it…inside me…a part of him…of Marvel inside my body…it sickened me. I didn't want anything…any part of him."
Out of the corner of my eye I see Peeta nodding with understanding, his face lacking any judgment.
"But I didn't have to worry about that, because Marvel took care of it for me. When he shoved me. And…I know I'm such a horrible person Peeta, because when I found out that I…lost it, I was…this overwhelming sense of relief washed over me." For the first time since I started, my voice quakes, and I'm not sure how much longer I can fight the tears. What must Peeta be thinking? He must think I'm an awful person. Here he is, mourning the loss of his son…his precious, precious son and I'm talking about despising…
"I…I don't even know what to say. 'Sorry' seems a little pathetic. But I am so sorry that happened to you, Katniss. No one should ever have to experience something like that. And Katniss, I want you to know…I hope you know I would never…"
Of course, I know this. Peeta is good. I may have had my doubts when I first met him, but now that I know him…he makes me feel completely and utterly safe.
"Peeta, I," I hesitate, shaking my head, and the first tear leaks from the corner of my eye.
Come on Katniss, tell him. I silently urge myself. You made it this far, there's just one more thing. The most important thing.
But I don't want to lose him, I can't lose him. And if I tell him this final thing, losing him is a very real possibility.
Finally, I just blurt it out. "I can't have kids, Peeta. I'm so sor—"
That's when the dam bursts. I clench my fists into Peeta's shirt and hide my face in his chest. My entire body shakes, wracked with uncontrollable sobs. I'm waiting for Peeta to say something—anything. I'm waiting for him to tell me that it's time we part ways. That he's sorry, but he doesn't see a future with me. Because even though he's never said it, I know he wants a family. He would be an amazing dad; from the stories he's told me, he was an amazing dad.
He deserves to be a dad again.
I finally catch my breath, or well, enough to get the next round of words out. "I'm so sorry Peeta. I understand if you don't…if you want to be with someone who—"
Peeta flips onto his side so quickly I don't have time to think. He tilts my chin up, and I squeeze my eyes shut. "Katniss," he says firmly. "Please…look at me." His voice is nothing like I expected it to be. Instead of anger and hostility, it's soft, kind, and empathetic, yet also filled with pain, and maybe a touch of anguish.
I'm afraid, so afraid of what I'll see when I open my eyes, but I do it anyway because I can't deny him anything.
"Is that why you're so upset? You think I…you think that matters to me?" He asks, seeming almost offended.
"I just…I care about you so much Peeta, and I think…I think maybe I'm falling in l— I don't want to lose you. I mean…by some drunkards stupid mistake, you appeared in my life and for the first time, everything made sense. YOU make sense. You are so amazing and you deserve everything you want. And I…I guess…I…I couldn't keep this from you, and I knew you needed to know now, so you can decide. And it might hurt less if you ended it now, before we got in too deep. I want to give you everything; I would give you everything because you deserve the entire world and more, but that's the one thing I can't—"
Peeta shuts me up by slamming his lips to mine. Then he pulls me into his arms, hugging me tightly. A few seconds later, his grip on me loosens. And now it's his turn to talk.
"Before you came down here, I was on the phone with my dad. I kind of went on a tangent, telling him what a wonderful person you are. He said to me, "it sounds like you really love her." And I froze. Because I haven't felt that way, I didn't think it was possible to feel that way again. Because…when my son died Katniss, he took a piece of my heart with him. And he'll always have a little piece of it. But when I'm with you, you make me believe that…that no matter how bad our losses, that life can be good again—" Peeta shakes his head to clear his thoughts.
"It was in that moment that I realized that not only do Ilove you but I'm so in love with you Katniss. I'm already in too deep. I know we just met a few months ago, but I already know that you are not someone who can be replaced. I don't know what the future holds for us, but when I picture myself…whether it's a month, a year, five years, I…I don't know much Katniss, but what I do know is…it's you I see myself with."
My tears have subsided for the moment, all that's left are the sporadic, leftover whimpering sniffles. "Whatever lies before us Katniss, we'll figure it out together, okay? As long as I have you, everything else is just details."
I nod, then Peeta plants a quick kiss to my forehead. "Besides, there's more than one way to make a family."
I don't know what I did to deserve this man, but I thank my lucky stars for the drunken, forgetful idiot who neglected to pencil in my reservation. Because it brought me to Peeta.
A/N – So, what did you think? Pretty intense, huh? So, Katniss finally trusted Peeta enough to tell him her story.
So, this is so totally not where I pictured this fic going, but what can I say? My characters have a mind of their own. (Well, not "MY" characters, but...you know what I mean!)