Chapter 8
I'm afraid I'll wake him up and ruin this moment. Of all the things I liked about having Peeta sleep next to me, the steadiness I felt when seeing his face whenever I opened my eyes was my favourite. His arms protect me and his body keeps me warm, but it's the certainty of knowing he's here with me that lets me know I haven't lost everything. Yet. This is why I keep quiet and wait for him to awake. The problem is that I can't keep quiet for long. I am suddenly aware of every move I make and my focus on the boy sharing a blanket with me makes me paranoid I'm swallowing too loud, as if my mouth is watering. Is it? I dismiss it as a sign of hunger and decide to get up at once. I nudge Peeta to the side and I can see he's half-awake now.
"Oh," he whispers. He's looking around, trying to make sense of where he is when his eyes land on me, standing under the arches that separate the living room from the hallway. It seems to bring him to his senses, as he sits up quickly and begins folding the blanket that covered him. "I'm so sorry, Katniss. I must have lost track of time. I didn't mean to."
I stare at his apologetic ways. His fear of disappointing me, better yet, his fear of hurting me is what lets me know the old Peeta was only lost inside that shell, and he's slowly coming back. I suppose that's a big difference from the boy who wanted to kill me, enraged with tracker jacker venom. I let out a smile big enough so he's assured his presence didn't bother me, and small enough so I don't give away that his presence was actually something I had been craving.
"I'm hungry. Do you want anything?" I ask him.
"I can't. I'm supposed to take my medicine before any meals in the morning."
"Oh, I see." Sometimes I forget Peeta is on medication, just like me. This realization has an upsetting effect on me. It reminds me how, despite the good night I had, we're not all right. Not at all. I think about how I haven't seen Peeta have a flashback in a while, nor he has told me about one. Maybe his medicine is working, or maybe he's not telling me about everything he struggles with. I sure haven't told him how he's made constant appearances in my nightmares. While I had dreams in which he was trying to choke me, now it's his death that haunts me again. Silver parachutes falling down. Explosions. Madness. Prim and Peeta burning together right before my eyes. I take a deep breath to send these thoughts away.
"Maybe you could go take your pills and come back to eat," I suggest.
"Actually, I better go. I'm not that hungry anyway." He says as he gets up to leave. When he's at the door, he turns around and says, "I'll see you later, okay?"
The door closes right in front of me. I'm still standing on the same spot, feeling rejected. The way he said those last words is bothering me. He tried to smile but his eyes showed me something else. Doubt. As if he wasn't really sure he'd see me later. While his spending the night was good for me, I wonder what it did to his memories and sanity. Peeta is fighting his own demons and it's clear he wants to do it away from me. I want to fight his resolution to go through this alone. I'm here, aren't I? I make an omelette and fry some bacon. I put them in a plate and am ready to take them to Peeta's house when my eyes catch something inside the cutlery drawer. Underneath the tray holding the forks and spoons I see the corner of a paper. Without thinking, I pull it out. How I wish I hadn't.
My mother must have put it here one day. The refrigerator door was probably already covered in her drawings and little poems, so she kept it here. It's Prim's last report card from the school in District 12. All A's. What a bright cookie, she was. In a second, I'm on the floor weeping over the brilliant future my sister will never have. The doctor she'll never become. The lives she'll never save. No, I can't think that way. Because it was her effort to save lives that sent her straight into the parachutes and there was nothing I could do to save her from that terrible fate.
What could have been a good day becomes a bad one. The omelette sits on the table, untouched, as I drag myself to my bedroom. I guess there's no way of predicting what each day could bring me. I sit on my bed, hugging my knees. I feel alone and out of place. This house is not a home and I think it will never feel like one. The rain is falling and I allow the wind to blow some drops inside through the open window. The heavier it gets, the more I can feel the droplets sprinkle my face. I get up and walk closer to the window. The need to be washed away consumes me. I shut the glass and run down the stairs only to rush out of my backdoor. I'm standing in my backyard now. My eyes are closed, my head is lifted high. The rain is warm, announcing we won't have to wait much longer for summer.
I begin to sing. It's as if I'm back at the training center again, standing on the edge of sanity. I go through every song I could think of and breakdown when I half-whisper, half-sing, one my father used to nurse Prim to sleep with. I know they cannot hear it, though, singing it makes me feel them closer to me somehow. I'm sure I look like a lunatic. Standing in the heavy rain, singing every song I ever heard my father sing. I laugh at the thought of "The Hanging Tree." I try to think of the small boy Peeta once was, listening to my father and waiting for the birds to fall silent. How my mother banned the song because of what it entailed. Life then was so terrible, yet so simple. Simple because we had no idea the lyrics behind that song would be the least of our concerns.
The rain begins to retreat. I don't want to be inside. The air is more breathable out here. Besides, it's like there's a trap waiting for me in every drawer, every corner, every closet in my home. I walk back to the kitchen just to retrieve my bow and arrows. A rainy day is not as good for shooting prey as it is for finding it in snares, but I have to make my way there. I'm certain of it. The town is quiet. Everyone must be in their homes, waiting for the rain to pass. The solitude it gives me is refreshing and it lets me know I'll feel even better when I get to the woods. And I do. The smell of wet pine works better than any pills Dr. Aurelius could prescribe me. I find a tree and climb up. I sit there while I wait for the woods to slowly come back to life again as a rainbow graces the skies. I can only see part of it from below the leaves, but it always seems to look more beautiful over here than it does in town. I make a mental note to bring Peeta with me one day after a storm. Maybe it'd help him figure out a rainbow a little better. That is, of course, if he even remembers wanting to do so.
I can hear movement as soon as the last drop falls. The animals know it's time to come out for food now that the rain is gone and so do I. I shoot the first rabbit I see. It's not a clean shot, but it's very good considering I don't hunt everyday anymore. I don't come down just yet. I like the vantage point I have from up here and I wait for my next target. I hear noise from my other side and see a squirrel make its way up a nearby tree. I position myself better and wait, moving my angle slightly. Right in the eye. I'm smiling. I feel like myself, even though I know that feeling won't stay for long. I'm a hunter, of that I am sure. I just need to find the strength to make my way over here. It's funny how it was Prim's report card that broke me down and, yet, it led to the chain of events that resulted in me walking home with a fat rabbit and a squirrel in my hunting bag.
I walk to Greasy Sae's and she lets out a big smile when she sees the squirrel.
"Thank you, girl. You know, we can't order these from the Capitol. It's quite a treat," she says. I think about the irony of craving squirrels when we finally have access to good cattle and poultry meat and nod at her.
"Well, you'll be getting these more often," I tell her. Maybe I shouldn't. I don't know what the days to come hold for me, so it could be an empty promise. Or not. Perhaps telling her this will be an incentive to drag me into the woods a little more.
"That sounds good. I'll roast it and make a stew too. I'll bring it this evening. Is that okay if I show up?" she asks.
Sae must have noticed how I've spent more time with Peeta, how we visit each other more. I squint my eyes, hoping she's not implying she'd be interrupting something if she dropped by. "You can come by anytime," I tell her. "Could you make something for Haymitch too?"
"No problem. I have to deliver some liquor and grain to him anyway," she says. "Don't worry, he doesn't order that much liquor anymore," she adds when an expression of worry appears on my face.
I leave her house and walk to mine with the rabbit still in my bag. I want to clean it and freeze it for another day. I'm not the best cook. My meals normally consist of mixing everything I could find together and hoping it tastes good. Given the hunger I was once used to, I couldn't care less about taste as long as it was edible. I know Peeta appreciates decent seasoning, though, so I decide to freeze it until I can learn a recipe. It's only after I skin the rabbit and put it away that I realize I'm deliberately making plans that include Peeta in my life. I blame Haymitch for filling my head with things he shouldn't have. In any case I decide that if I learn a recipe for the rabbit, I'll invite him too so it's not just Peeta and me.
This reminds me of how Peeta didn't seem to be doing very well when he left my house this morning. I peek through my window and see his lights are off, even though the sun has begun to set and a beautiful full moon is up in the sky. Somehow I know he's home, sitting in the dark alone. Maybe fighting a flashback, sinking his nails on his skin as a desperate way of clinging to reality. Sometimes he presses them down so hard he bleeds. I've seen the small bandages. I can't blame him. I've used the same technique myself so many times. Using this one pain to keep a bigger one away. Then just like that my day takes a turn for the worse. Again.
I want him to ask for my help when he's like that. I want him to need my help just like in the arena. It was only after his hijacking that I realized how much I valued him needing me. But how can I ask him to seek me out when I refuse to let him help me too? When I refuse to help myself most days? I walk to the kitchen and warm up the omelette from this morning. It tastes like rubber now, though I still eat it in order not to waste food. I'm really hoping Greasy Sae shows up with some stew and when she does I devour it. She gives me a recipe for roasted rabbit and goes back to her house. I put the piece of paper away when I realize Peeta won't come back today. In fact, I don't see him for days. I retreat to my bedroom again and lose track of time, so maybe a week. I'm haunted by Prim's absence and the fact I can't rely on Gale anymore, or even my mother on her good days, makes it all worse. I wish I had more control of these ups and downs, and I should. Except I now know that how I feel doesn't depend solely on myself or my actions. I can't feel better if Peeta's not around.
A/N: Basically I think Peeta and Katniss are not quite ready to handle the closeness yet. That's where more about the book-making will come into play in the next chapters :) Thanks for reading and sorry for the delay. I'm in the last stages of my MA degree but that also means that soon I'll be able to update a lot more often. Reviews and comments are really appreciated, so please review if you can.