I wake up again. Screaming. The images flash through my mind as quick as lightning and vindictive in their onslaught—fire, parachutes, blood, gunshots, Snow choking on his own blood, the ground opening itself up nearly swallowing me whole, roses, mutts in the sewer, mutts in the forest, Finnick, and Prim. Even though I am awake, I cannot see anything but these atrocities, one after the other as if on a loop.
"Stop! Please stop! No more!" I scream at the top of my lungs and thrash about tangling myself in the comforter. I begin to feel even more trapped, it's too real. I am back in the Capitol. I am paralyzed to the hovercraft, going into the arena once more. I am going to die.
"Katniss?! Katniss!" I faintly hear a voice call out as there is a loud crash somewhere nearby. I am not sure if this is real. The voice continues low, but distinctive among the sounds of death and destruction. "Katniss, wake up! It's not real. Wake up! You're just having a nightmare. Not real." I continue to scream.
"Prim! Prim, move out of the way! Prim! What are you doing here?! Prim!" I call out for the ghost of my dear one, vehement tears streaming down my cheeks as I watch her rush to the aid of the children.
"Not real, Katniss. She's not there. Not real." He coaxes. "Remember that game we used to play for me, back when I was…confused? Real or not real? It's not real, Katniss. Please. Wake up" I am further away from the war. The voice becomes louder. "Katniss, the war is over. You're okay. You're here in district twelve. I'm here. It's me, Peeta."
My eyes snap open. Not real. It was not real. I look up, confused, at Peeta. He gazes down at me, understandingly and suddenly I cannot stop crying again. He pulls me near to him in one swift movement and then into his arms. He rubs my back and smoothes over my hair. His fingers trace gentle circles over my shoulder blades and he whispers in my ear. "It's okay, it's okay, I've got you. I've got you."
My muscles relax and the tears come to a stop. I want to ask a slew of questions but as I open my mouth, he shakes his head and puts his index finger to my lips. "Tomorrow. Sleep, Katniss" he orders softly. I want to protest. What time is it? How did he get into my house? Did he hear me all the way from his house? Why now, after so long? But my eye lids feel heavy. And I know that I need more sleep. So, I hold on to the promise of tomorrow.
The bed shifts and I know Peeta has gotten up. I can hear his uneven footsteps heading toward my door as quietly as he can manage with the prosthetic. I whisper in a strained voice and he pauses. "Stay with me?" It is something that has left my lips too many times.
"Always." He whispers. It is something that I can never hear enough. He climbs back onto my bed. He unhooks his prosthetic and snuggles close to me, wrapping me safe in his arms. I feel delicate and safe.
At least for the remainder of the night, the nightmares do not return.
The next morning, I wake up and find the other half of my bed empty. For some reason, this distresses me. Where is Peeta? It isn't like last night is a normal occurrence for us. Back on the train, this was our routine, but things have changed since then in nearly every way. Peeta had not so much as visited me, nor I him, until that night. Yes, we had that night at the bakery and he walked me home but it had been a week since then and the most I had seen him was a quick wave when we were both in town. Peeta coming to rescue me from my night terror was surprising, to say the least. That being said, I did not mind it one bit.
I ambled down the stairs and into my kitchen, out on the table were a plate of cheese buns and a note that said "Try not to eat them all at once" with a smiley face.
Of course. He is at the bakery. Life doesn't stop on the account of me. Shouldn't I be doing something? I peek out the window and sun tells me that it is a little before noon. The weather looks plenty amiable and for a moment, I yearn to be back in the woods. I hadn't gone yet. I just couldn't bring myself to. With no one to provide for and a full belly, I could not force myself to shoot again even though I deeply wanted to. The more I thought about it, the more I longed to nock an arrow and let it fly. I longed to see if I could still shoot a squirrel through the eye even after seven dormant months.
Without giving myself time to think of a counter argument to hunting, I put on my hunting boots and jacket and head out to the meadow. I can't help but notice that there are several dandelions sprouting. I smile slightly. When I was little, I used to pick them and blow all the seeds into the wind. I had heard that if you got all in one breath, your wish would come true. My mother told me that dandelions are weeds, and that if there are weeds, other useful plants like herbs and flowers have a hard time growing. I prefer the weeds. I try not to look too much into that.
As I approach the fence, I notice two things. The fence is no longer electrified, because it is a free country now and hunting is no longer prohibited. The fence only remains to keep the flesh-eaters out. And there is a small latch in the fence, a door that opens out. My days of elbow crawling my way under the fence were through. I smile, a little more liberally.
Once in the forest, I wonder to myself why it took me so long to come back. The air is fresh and the ambience refreshing. I retrieve a bow and quiver of arrows from one of the hollowed out trees. I venture into the forest, taking in my surroundings. The forest was quiet today, and so was I. My steps were sure as I side stepped the loud twigs in favor of the stream.
My thoughts led me back to Peeta. After walking down stairs this morning, I realized that my habit of not locking the doors allowed him entry into my house. He was too thoughtful. Really. After all of the drama that had happened in the past several years, he is still thinking of me. He is still looking out for me. I try to think of a time when I have done the same for him and fail to recall. Since we came back to district twelve, I had mostly pretended that Peeta wasn't even alive. I had mostly pretended that I wasn't even alive. He is sure to have struggled just as much. His episodes have probably left him choking on memories of the Capitol and the torture. When had I come in and saved him from his episodes? When had I cared? When had it even crossed my mind? I felt a bit ashamed of myself. Thinking further, I felt a lot ashamed of myself.
My mind flashed back to bakery and the night we spent talking. I think he would be pleased to know that I am back in the woods. I am hunting! I spot a squirrel on a low branch in a tree maybe fifteen feet from me and remove an arrow from the quiver, nocking it into my bow. My arrows are pure; they are not tainted with stain of guilt or the blood of an enemy. My eye focuses and when I pull back on the string, my hands are not forced by the Capitol, a tribute, or Coin. I release with confidence and straight through the eye, my arrow pierces the squirrel that falls out of the tree. I collect the squirrel and find that I am satisfied for the day. It is just one, and it is a small start, but still a start. On the way back to district twelve, I ditch the bow and arrows in the tree and come through the gate, latching it behind me.
I almost skip to the bakery, I am so thrilled. I feel joy bubbling up within me. Fulfillment. If I can just catch one squirrel a day, I would have fresh meat—a special treat and addition for my usual vegetable stew and I could go to bed knowing that I have something in my life that I enjoy. As I walk through town, I notice small things. The smoke from the chimney of the blacksmith. The children playing a game involving chalk and jumping. The stray cats that have full bellies. District twelve is a different place. It is a world no one could have imagined, something I never got my hopes up for.
I enter the bakery and Peeta smiles as me quickly before returning his attention to his customer. "Alright, just the cookie for you, then? And anything for the little guy?" He waved to the woman in front of me's toddler son. She nodded a swift no.
"Thanks, but he's still hyped up after his extra cupcake yesterday." She gave him a pointed look and he looked down, obviously guilty. It was well known that Peeta would slip extra goodies in for the young children. He had a weakness.
"Well, alright! We'll see ya next week, May belle" he called as she guided her son out of the bakery. The little blonde haired boy reached toward the cookie coercing a laugh from me and a "no-no" from his mommy.
I held up my squirrel proudly and skipped up to the counter. "Someone may have caught this today" I said with a smile.
"Someone, you say?" He laughed as he wiped the counter with a wet wash cloth. "Did you see it happen? Quick! Describe them to me, I can try to do a quick sketch of them. We can turn them in to the proper authorities" he winked at me, a little flirtatiously, which normally would have made me withdraw, but not today.
"Me. It was me!" I replied giddily. "I went into the forest and Peeta, I hunted. And I didn't freak out like I thought I would. It went so well. I thought I'd forget how to shoot" He smiled.
"But you didn't?" He discarded the rag into a bin of water.
"I didn't!" I once again waved my squirrel in the air.
"Ahh. So, you're coming to my house for dinner so I can cook that for you!" It wasn't a question. He had a smile playing at his lips, waiting for mine to break first. I gave in.
"Is that what you think?" I teased. "You're just trying to get some squirrel!"
He looked offended. "What! Well, I never…I'm just trying to be a good neighbor." He smirked.
"Tell you what, you bring the bread and I'll bring the squirrel. We'll make a meal out of it." He smiled as I said this.
"I think you just want to hang out with me." He stated as he reached into his display case handing me an orange cupcake. "In honor of your hunting victories" he said, nudging the sweet toward me. I took it without refusal this time, feeling pretty cheery—which was weird. In the back of my mind, the alarms went off. I mentally pressed snooze. I am happy. Maybe not forever; But at least in this moment, I am content—and like they said, step by step, moment by moment. I am alive.
"Six." I ordered as I licked around the edge of the cupcake, reveling in the sweetness of the frosting.
"Six." He agreed with a smile which I returned.
Hey! Here it is! Several more chapters to go! I have so much planned for this story(: Sorry that I've been slow on updates. Between 40 hour work weeks, being a volunteer at my church, and planning my wedding, I barely have time to catch my breath. However, I'm determined to be more faithful! PLEASE review! I write much faster when there are pretty, shiny, reviews to read. Thanks to everyone reading this story and again, review review review!