Chapter 4: Miss Used
The muscles in Katniss's arm began to burn from the weight of the textbooks she carried, and she shifted the pile to rest against her hipbone and alleviate the stress. The Panem Public Library had its own bus stop on the line she regularly traveled, but the library itself was nestled off the main road at the top of a rather steep hill. Katniss had made the climb plenty of times, but her muscles still ached from shooting with Peeta the week before. It had been a long time since she had shot an arrow, and while her body remembered the motion well, it still cried out in agony at being stretched and awoken after a long hibernation.
The automatic doors slid open when Katniss stepped beneath the sensor, and she walked up to the drop off bin to return her books. The books were for the lower level courses that she had been following along with, but none of them would be applicable for the research she'd be completing with Doctor Heavensbee's team, so she would no longer need them.
There was a magazine rack that ran along the wall beside the checkout desk. Katniss had never looked through it before, because current events and tips on living well had never interested her. Today, however, she found herself flipping through the contemporary woman's magazines. The ones that told her how to make her hair shine, her skin flawless, and her man pleased. She picked up one with a well dressed celebrity on the cover and leafed through it.
The article for bargain outfits featured a pair of jeans that was $100. The blouse, shoes and accessories were no less expensive, and Katniss added up the sum in her head to $350. She looked at the finished product and imagined the model beside Peeta. He'd be happier with her, she decided, snapping the magazine shut and returning it to the rack.
Katniss reached into her pocket and pulled out the tube of "Puckery Plum" lipstick that Effie had left on her desk earlier in the week. There was a small reflective surface at the end of the cap, and she used it as a mirror to apply the color to her lips. It felt heavy and waxy, and when she furiously swiped her tongue across her lips to remove the makeup, it felt like she was eating a crayon. She dropped the lipstick back into her pocket and wiped the back of her hand over her mouth, leaving two parallel streaks of purple across her skin.
She turned her back to the magazine rack and sank to the floor to lean against it. Her braid rested over her shoulder and she picked at the stray ends that littered it. Her hair was a dull, lifeless color with wiry ends that were frayed and unkempt. She'd have to cut it soon. She always wore it in a braid, so the precision didn't matter. She didn't even use a mirror most of the time when she cut it.
Taking a deep breath, she used the bookshelf across from her as leverage to stand. That was when she saw it. On the spine of the book right in front of her nose.
"Surviving the Quell" by Haymitch Abernathy.
She looked at the sign overhead. She was in the "Self Improvement" section. Haymitch Abernathy had written a book on self improvement. She muffled her laughter in the palm of her hand.
Katniss hooked her finger around the book's binding and slid it from the shelf. The image on the cover was of a man looking over the edge of a cliff. The sky was filled with electricity, but it wasn't lightening. It was something else. A grid like pattern that sparked where his hand reached out to touch it.
She flipped through it without reading any of the pages and then snapped the cover shut. By the smoothness on the seam, it didn't look like anyone had read this copy before. She toyed with the idea of putting it back on the shelf, but the book remained in her hands as she approached the checkout counter.
The bus wasn't crowded this time of the afternoon. It was too late for lunch and too early to be returning home from work. Katniss sat with her knees pressed against the seat in front of her, and Haymitch's book in her lap. She opened the cover and then closed it again, unable to turn to the first page. She spent the rest of the ride looking out the window instead.
When she reached P.I.T. she swiped her badge into the card reader and waited for the light to flash green. The lock clicked and she turned the handle to open the door. Today there were other students occupying some of the makeshift cubicles, but none of them looked up from their computer at her presence. She pulled out her desk chair and sat down, sliding Haymitch's book to the far corner of her workspace.
She didn't have any new e-mails, so she slid her keyboard beneath her monitor to make room for her notebook. She flipped to the last page of her work to find the line she had left off on. Crossing off the terms, she frowned when she discovered that her equation was still unbalanced.
Her eyes darted towards Haymitch's book. Why couldn't she just read it? It didn't look to be too long, she could probably finish it in an afternoon. It didn't feel right though. It felt too personal.
Plutarch called her into his office and she gathered the notes that she had been working on. He listened carefully to her assumptions as she pointed out all the bundling of terms to replace with certain coefficients. His eyes lit up at the connection she made, and he stood from his desk to rifle through his bookcase. He found the book he was looking for and handed it to Katniss.
"Solid State Physics?" she read off the cover.
"It's the theory behind what makes those electronics so small," he explained. "Katniss, if we crack this code, it won't just change the face of Physics. It could change the world." He grabbed a stack of Post Its from his desk and scribbled something quickly. "I want you to meet with Doctor Beetee in the Electrical Engineering department as soon as possible. He may have some insight."
Katniss frowned at the name on the slip of paper. It had been hard enough to get comfortable working with Doctor Heavensbee. She didn't really want to add to her list of interactions. She looked down at the cover and wondered if she could teach it to herself through the book. She'd try that first, she decided.
In the hallway, on her way back to the lab, she ran into Effie.
"It's Tuesday," she said. "Are you ready for your session?"
The car ride was quiet this time, and Katniss watched out the window as the scenery changed from the campus, to the downtown business district, to the more dilapidated parts at the edge of the city. Eventually, the highway drifted into the suburbs, and then to the business park where Haymitch's office was located. They parked at a different entrance today, and took another route through the building, which Katniss tracked carefully.
Effie tapped on the door and checked inside, before opening it fully for Katniss to enter. The office was still in the same disarray as it was after the last session, but this time, at least, Haymitch was sitting upright behind his desk.
"I'll see you in forty five minutes," Effie told Katniss, before closing the door behind her.
Katniss sat down in the chair that was cleared. The books that were piled on it before were still toppled by her feet. Her eyes connected with Haymitch's and she arched her eyebrows, waiting for him to say something. He didn't. She looked down at her hands.
There was a clock on the wall, which clicked loudly as each second passed. Haymitch sighed heavily, but didn't speak. Katniss unrolled some scrap papers from her pocket and began to tear them into strips. She rolled each strip into a tiny ball and then flicked it towards the garbage can at the base of Haymitch's desk. She repeated the procedure until her pile of papers had thinned to a few sheets.
"You like sports?"
Katniss had grown so used to the silence that the voice felt out of place. She looked up at Haymitch. "What?"
"Do you like sports?" he said again.
She checked over her shoulder, wondering if maybe he was talking to someone else in the room. She shrugged her shoulder. "I don't know. Why?"
"You've been shooting baskets for the last twenty minutes, and you haven't missed once," he noted, nodding his chin towards the trashcan, which was now filled with tiny pellets of paper.
"They're all right, I guess."
"What other games do you play?" he asked. She glanced at the pen resting on top of her file, waiting for him to pick it up and write something down. He didn't.
"Bar games mostly," she said, her eyes carefully trained on his hands folded on his desk. "I like darts, pool, corn hole. I shoot too, mostly bow and arrow."
"No team sports though."
"What?"
"You could do those things by yourself if you wanted to," he said.
Katniss looked away. Usually she'd play with Gale, but they were always on opposing sides. It was never really a competition against him either, it was a competition against herself.
"I shoot hoops," she said. "That's a team sport."
"No. Shooting is throwing a ball into a basket," he pointed out. "Basketball is a team sport."
She scowled, folding her arms across her chest and slouching dejectedly into her chair. "What are you getting at?"
"To be a part of a team you have to trust people. Depend on them. Talk to them."
Katniss rolled her eyes. She didn't need to depend on people because she took care of herself. Depending on people gave them control, which meant they could take something away from her. She'd lost enough already.
"Then I don't like sports, I guess," she mumbled.
"What kind of relationships do you have?" Haymitch asked. Her eyes were drawn to the pen on his desk. He still hadn't touched it, and the page on his notepad was still clean.
"What?"
"I didn't think these were tough questions," he said wryly. He reached into his breast pocket to fish out his flask. "Let's try something easier." He twisted off the cap and took a swig, then set it on his desk. He leaned forward on his elbows and spoke each word slowly: "Do you have friends?"
"Did Effie yell at you?" Katniss shot back, shifting her weight to sit tall. "Is that why you've decided to play the good doctor?"
Haymitch narrowed his eyes at her and reached for his pen. He poised if over his note pad and spoke as he scribbled each word. "It is with my professional opinion that Miss Katniss Everdeen be returned to the Arena Correctional Facility, indefinitely." He lifted his gaze to meet her's in challenge. "You want me to sign this?"
Katniss chewed on the inside of her cheek, and considered his threat. He wouldn't actually send her back to prison. She didn't think he could at least. She glanced over at the clock on the wall, breaking the stubborn staring contest that they were caught up in.
"I have Gale," she said with a resigned sigh.
"And who is Gale?" Haymitch said with a victorious smirk that Katniss wanted to claw off his face.
"My friend."
"What do you do with Gale?" he said tightly, his patience waning the moment the session started.
"I don't know. We hang out at bars and stuff."
"Do you depend on Gale?"
She picked at a stray thread on the armrest of her chair. It unraveled another few inches but then held tight. "He gives me rides sometimes, I guess."
"He?" Haymitch noted, a knowing smile twisting his jowls. "You got a boyfriend?" he teased.
Katniss scowled. "If you're asking me on a date, then the answer is no," she said flatly.
Haymitch chuckled. "No thanks, sweetheart." He picked up her file from his desk and began to flip through the pages. The crease between his eyebrows deepened as he read it. He closed the folder and set it down. "Do you talk to your family at all?"
"I don't have one," she said, her eyes widened and then dropped to the floor. That felt real. It had never felt real before. She had Prim. Prim was her family, even though they were separated without contact for years. But Prim was gone. Why had she forgotten that she was gone?
"No aunts or uncles or cousins?"
She shook her head and quietly said, "No."
"What about foster families? Are you still in contact with any of them?"
Katniss had bounced around so many homes she couldn't remember them all. Some families were all right, but Katniss was so dead set on finding her sister, she'd runaway or cause enough trouble that they'd kick her out, figuring that one day they'd run out of places to stick her, and wherever Prim was placed would be the only choice left. It wasn't the most sound plan, but it was all she had.
"No," she said.
"So let me get this straight," Haymitch said, flattening his palms on his desk. "You've got your shrink," he counted on his finger, "the professor, your babysitter, and this Gale kid?" He shook his head and chuckled. "You must have quite the birthday parties."
She glowered at him, unamused. "What makes you think I'd invite you?" she said. "You'd drink all the booze."
"Somebody has to have a good time."
Katniss bounced her heel against the floor, looking at the clock and then back at the pen on his desk. The only notes he had written was the idle threat. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.
"I have other friends," she finally said.
His eyebrow lifted with some amount of interest. "Like who?" he asked.
"Peeta," she said.
"Who's Peeta?" he said, his face twisting in confusion at the way the name formed on his tongue.
"This guy," she shrugged, trying not to seem too interested.
"You sound close," he said dryly.
She looked around the room, never focusing on anything in particular. "We've hung out a few times."
"Why didn't you mention him before?" Haymitch said.
"I didn't think to," she shrugged.
"What do you two do?"
"We talk mostly. He's funny," she said. "He tells a lot of jokes."
"And he likes to talk to you?" Haymitch said his eyebrows lifting skeptically.
"Yeah. Why?" she said, feeling a bit defensive.
"Nothing," he chuckled under his breath. "It's just you're about as charming as a dead slug." Katniss scowled at him again. "Do you depend on him?"
She chewed on the inside of her lip, rolling the soft skin between her teeth. She didn't rely on him to survive, he only kept her company, really. Katniss knew how to take care of herself without anyone's help.
But that didn't explain the dreams. The peaceful meadow that was safe and warm, where he sat with her when Prim had faded away. He had become something important to her. Something she couldn't express. He gave her a reason to stay.
That wasn't Peeta though. It was the idea of him. He represented something to her that she didn't understand.
"How would you define love?" Haymitch said, and Katniss realized that she never answered the first question.
"I wouldn't," she answered quickly.
"What about intimacy?"
Katniss's eyes widened and she laughed to alleviate the awkwardness she felt. "Did they not teach you that in health class?" she said.
He sat back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. "So it's entirely physical?"
She felt stupid. She tried to backtrack. But wasn't that what intimacy was? She narrowed her eyes. "What are you getting at?"
"Does the boy know you were in jail?"
"No."
"Foster care?"
"No."
"Why not?"
She looked away and tapped her finger against the cloth on her armrest. "It hasn't come up."
"Do you think he'll care?"
She thought back to the coffee shop, when he'd asked an innocent question and her first instinct had been to lie. It would have been avoidable with a simple "yes" or "no" answer, but she wanted to talk about her family. She wanted to feel normal. Peeta made her feel normal and she didn't want to lose that.
She didn't know how Peeta would react to how truly broken and alone she was, that she could count on one hand the important people in her life. He'd look at her differently. He'd be disappointed. He wouldn't stay.
That was how it worked.
She panicked.
"Session's over."
The sound of Haymitch's voice brought her mind back to the room. She looked around, feeling fazed, then nodded.
"See you next Tuesday," she mumbled, and stood on her uneasy feet to slip through the door.
"Thursday," he corrected. She nodded.
The drive back to P.I.T. was quiet, and when she returned to the computer lab, she didn't look at any of the assignments that Plutarch had left on her desk. Instead, she opened the Capitol University residence directory, searching through the tabs until she found Peeta's dormitory.
It was nearly dark when she reached the Capitol Campus, but she could still make out the slate gray roofs on the brick dormitories above the glow of the old fashioned street lamps. The white trim around the doors and windows was crisp, as if it had been regularly polished, and Katniss imagined there was an entire fleet of workers dedicated to maintaining the clean, pristine facade.
She read the names off the buildings until she found the one that she was looking for. The entrances required a key card to access, but there were enough students filtering through the doors to pass through without event.
Each room along the narrow hallway was labeled with a number, the name of the resident, and a white board for messages. Katniss scanned each name plaque, climbing two flights of staircases before she stumbled upon the door with Peeta's name on it.
Hesitating to knock, she tried her best to calm her nerves. She couldn't.
She didn't have a plan, she didn't even know what she was doing there. What she had with Peeta was still new and confusing. It was the only thing in her life that was untainted. So much that was good had already been taken away from her. She had to protect it.
Her fist connected with the door and it began to creak open.
"Katniss?" Peeta appeared on the other side, his eyebrows lifting in surprise over the rim of his glasses. He coiffed his blond curls on top of his head when he swiped his hand through his hair. He looked tired, and she admonished herself for interrupting him. "What are you doing here?" he asked with an easy grin.
She couldn't answer. Instead she rolled forward onto her toes, and pressed her lips against his urgently. He stumbled back a few steps, stunned, and she followed every step so that their mouths never broke contact. His lips were still beneath hers, but then she felt his jaw slacken and his tongue eagerly sweep passed the seam of her mouth to touch to hers. His fingers weaved into her braid, settling at the nape of her neck to tilt her head back and deepen the kiss.
It should have made her feel better, but it didn't.
She reached blindly for his belt buckle and began to unfasten it with deft fingers. The suede smelled like salt, and was slick from an oily finish, making it difficult to unbuckle. After she freed the ends, she frantically moved to the button on his jeans.
His hands covered hers, and when he broke their kiss, he let out a nervous laugh.
"Woah, there," he said. "What are you doing?"
Her lips felt swollen and her breath was shallow. She couldn't look at him. The tone is his voice made her feel mortified. "Don't you want me?" she said, sounding smaller than she wanted to.
"I do," he said, tugging on the end of what was left of her braid. It didn't offer her any relief. "Believe me I do. It's just, this is moving really fast. Ten seconds ago we hadn't even kissed – and now? I didn't think this was like that."
"Like what?" she snapped back, feeling defensive.
"I want this to mean something," he said.
Air escaped from her lungs as if she'd been struck. She felt like nothing. She was nothing.
"Katniss, what's wrong? Did something happen?"
"I'm fine," she said tightly, snatching her arm away when he reached out to comfort her. She turned towards the door. "I should go," she mumbled.
"Don't leave," he followed on her heels, placing his hand on the door to prevent her from opening it. "Is everything okay?"
She felt weak. She hated feeling weak. A fire ignited, burning her insecurities away. Or maybe it fueled them.
"You think you're so much better than me," she said harshly, her gray eyes unable to lift from where they were focused on the floor.
"What are you talking about?" he sounded incredulous, as if the idea were absurd.
"What gives you the right to tell me what I want? Or what I need?"
"That's not what I meant." He sighed and rested his head against the wall behind him. "If I kiss you right now or sleep with you, it's not going to make your problems go away. They'll keep on building until you're left with a whole lot of regret."
She glared at him. She didn't need for him to tell her how she felt, or what she'd regret. It was insulting. At this point she didn't have any regrets. They were too much trouble to hold onto.
"Stop being patronizing," she said. "If you don't want to be with me that's fine, but don't pretend it's for my greater good."
"I meant something I'd regret," he said. He backed away from the door and moved to the other side of the room. "This doesn't feel right, okay?"
The words echoed in her ears. She was right to lie because her fears were correct. Peeta didn't want the damaged Katniss. He saw her as toxic and dirty and worthless. He was like everyone else. She hated him for it.
"I'm sure you feel so noble to have put me in my place. But I don't need a white knight to protect me so you can get off your high horse," she spat, nearly spitting in his face.
"No you get off!" Katniss found the breaking point of Peeta's temper. His jaw was set rigidly and he tugged at his curls in frustration. "You can't storm in here demanding I fuck you, when you're obviously hung up on something, and then turn it on me. It doesn't work like that. You can't use me Katniss, I'm not going to let you."
"You think I need you?" she shouted. "Because I don't! I take care of myself, and I don't need my fucking family to buy my way through life. You're fucking nothing!" She shoved against his chest and he fell back a step, brushing her hands away. "You know that?"
"Katniss, stop," he said and it made her even more furious.
She had invested so much faith in him. She had started to depend on him, and he disappointed her.
"You're nothing!" She shoved him harder this time.
"Katniss," he warned, holding up his arms to shield himself from her attack. He turned his head away and clenched his jaw, his stone faced expression one she had never seen on him before. It was like he was numb to her insults. It made her angry. She wanted to hurt him.
"You hear that Golden Boy? You're worthless," she sneered, and as she drew her body back to shove against him again, she saw his stance transform entirely. His eyes were wild, the blue rings swallowed fully by the darkness of his pupils. His hands shook at his sides, flexing into and out of fists. It was as if he was daring her to play with fire. She did, throwing her full weight against him.
"Enough," he shouted. He caught her wrists in each hand when she moved to strike him, his grip tightening until she couldn't feel her fingers. She howled at the pain and her knees buckled, but his hold on her wrists kept her from falling to the ground. She thrashed against him, fighting to get free, but he was stronger than her. So much stronger than her.
Peeta froze suddenly. The color drained from his face and his hands slackened, allowing for Katniss to collapse on the floor. He was breathing hard, like he'd just run ten miles, and he braced himself on the back of his desk chair, gripping the wrung so tightly that his knuckles were white.
Katniss imagined that grip, locked around her wrists. They throbbed with pain. Red and raw from the friction of his skin against hers. She stumbled back on her hands and feet to hurry towards the door.
"Katniss, wait," Peeta said, and she could recognize his voice again. Soft. Gentle. Peeta. "I'm sorry."
He looked horrified, and she wondered if she hallucinated the last five minutes. Who was that man before? He was a twisted, crazed animal. She felt the soreness in her wrists and backed away to reach for the doorknob. She ran down the corridor without looking back, out into the darkness of the campus, and through the crowds of students that filled the sidewalk. She didn't stop running until she reached the subway station, and even then she paced the platform, unable to stay still.
What had she done?
The physics building at P.I.T. was still bustling with life in the downstairs commons, but up in the research lab, where her work station was located, it was quiet and empty.
Katniss tossed her jacket over the back of her chair and collapsed against it. Every limb in her body felt broken. She felt useless. Looking down at her hands, she noticed dark rings already forming around her wrists. There would be bruises in the morning, ones that would haunt her for her stupidity for days to come. Just like every other scar that hadn't quite faded.
Her sleeves were too short to cover her arms, and the hair ties around her wrists wouldn't cover the wounds as well as they normally would. She reached for her jacket and wrapped herself in it. It was too warm for a coat though, and she felt like she was suffocating.
It was just the coat, she told herself.
Her mind was trapped in Peeta's room. She was upset. She made him upset. That wasn't Peeta though. Who was it?
She reached for the physics textbook that Plutarch had given her and slid it into her lap. The words on the pages may as well have been in a different language, but she continued to read each chapter. If she let her mind rest, it would dwell on Peeta, and she didn't want to think of that. She didn't want that Peeta. She wanted the Peeta she met in the meadow, the one who comforted her in her sleep.
Was the Peeta in her head as real as the Katniss she presented to him?
She closed the book and tossed it aside. On the far corner of her desk was Haymitch's book. The cover stared back at her, mocking her. Haymitch knew this would happen to her. How did he know?
She reached for the book, keeping it at an arm's length, and hesitantly flipped it open to peer at the pages, as if it contained the answers she needed.
The electronic lock beeped from outside the room, and she looked up to see that Effie had entered. Her suit jacket and skirt were still perfectly pressed after a full day of wear, and even though the work day had long ended, she was still in her patent pumps, instead of tennis shoe, like many faculty members changed into to stay comfortable. She held a mug in one hand and a Styrofoam cup in the other. Steam flowed over the edge of each rim.
"Katniss? What are you still doing here? It's late."
Katniss picked up Plutarch's book again to look busy.
"You don't have to work through the night," Effie said, sounding concerned. "There will be plenty of time tomorrow."
Katniss idly flipped the page. Night and day made no difference to her. She certainly wouldn't be sleeping tonight.
"Are you all right?" Effie asked. She took a few steps closer, and Katniss turned her chair so that her back was to her. "Katniss," she said gently, "go home."
"I'd rather keep working," she said tersely. "This is more important than you understand."
Effie's grin faltered. "Okay." She didn't move to leave, instead balanced the cups in her hands. "I made some hot chocolate, but I must have set the machine wrong, because it gave me two." She extended the Styrofoam cup to her.
"There are pictures on the buttons," Katniss said flatly. "They say the sizes too, it's pretty hard to screw up."
"Tired eyes, I suppose," Effie reasoned. "Caffeine doesn't keep me awake anymore, only sugar."
Katniss didn't accept the cup, but she didn't stop Effie either when she sat it on the edge of her desk. "You shouldn't depend on substances to avoid sleep," she said. She looked at the Hot Chocolate and then back at her book.
"It's a nasty habit," she agreed. She curled her lips to blow the steam off the surface of the hot liquid. "I'll be leaving soon, could I drive you home?"
"No thanks," Katniss said, and flipped to another page.
"Katniss, if you need someone to talk to, I'm here to listen."
She lifted her eyes with disinterest. "I talk to my therapist," she said.
"Some things are easier to talk about with a woman," Effie said carefully.
Katniss narrowed her gaze. A woman? She laughed. The only feminine influence in her life was her mother. She was weak, she had failed her. "I don't need help from someone who can't operate an espresso machine," she said coldly.
Effie's eyes widened and she nodded politely. "All right," she said, stepping towards the door with resolve. "The offer still stands," she said, and then she was gone.
Katniss chewed on the inside of her lips as she stared at the cup of hot chocolate in front of her. The steam whittled to a softer vapor, cool enough to bring to her lips without burning. It was sweet and warm. For a moment the pressure in her chest didn't feel so impossibly heavy. She tipped back the cup and drank the rest.
When it was gone she felt empty again.
She set Plutarch's book on her desk, reading through the chapters until she reached the end.
A/N: Between Prompts in Panem, which begins next week, and some family obligations over the next few weekends, this may be the last update for a few weeks. Once we get past Easter, I should be able to get back into the groove. As always, I'm on tumblr (absnow), if you ever want to drop by.