Peeta declines slowly and steadily—much faster than Johanna. Apparently his shoulder wound is too large and too deep in comparison to the one on her leg. I spend the night helplessly watching as he shivers and sweats despite the bone-chilling cold of the desert night. At one point Finnick offered to go back into the trees to find some water only to have Peeta tell him he wouldn't be able to keep the water down.
No one has left tonight: not Haymitch, not Gale, not Madge. Prim clutches my hand, gently stroking my arm as we silently watch the television. No one bothers to talk to me anymore because in the hours that Peeta's condition has worsened I've become mute.
Just as the light from the rising sun starts to peek over the mountains in the distance, Finnick speaks.
"We need to start moving now. I don't know how much longer Peeta will remain coherent."
At the mention of his name Peeta rolls onto his back, wincing when his shoulder hits the sand. His face is ashen and his eyes are bloodshot from lack of sleep and pain. His normally golden hair is dark with sweat and stuck to his forehead.
"I can walk if you help me up," he murmurs, before taking a deep breath. "Maybe," he adds quietly.
My stomach rolls.
Peeta extends his good arm to Finnick who grips it tightly, bracing himself in the sand. Finnick may be taller and stronger but Peeta is not a small boy and probably still very heavy.
Johanna stands off to the side, careful not to place unneeded pressure on her leg. Watching the venom make it's way through Peeta has been taxing on her: she's skittish and surly, surely anticipating what she's in for. It must be unnerving for her to watch Peeta change so quickly while relatively nothing happens to her. Only in the last hour has she started to sweat.
Finnick pulls Peeta into an upright sitting position before slinging Peeta's good arm over his shoulder and hauling him to his feet. The sudden movement makes Peeta dizzy and he spends a few seconds righting the world.
"I'm alright," Peeta says, voice stronger. "I'm alright, just lead the way Beetee. We should just try to get there as soon as possible."
Beetee nods and starts in the direction of the mountains. My eyes don't leave Peeta as he trudges through the sand. He wears an oddly determined expression, teeth gritted in obvious pain. His face is pale—bordering on grey— and my anxiety over the matter has me feeling like I might vomit. Finnick carries the bow and arrows now; they're no use to Peeta anymore.
I close my eyes, for the first time in hours it seems, and exhale deeply. What do I do? I'm as useless as ever, sitting here in this warm house, completely healthy, watching on as Peeta gets sicker and sicker at the hands of a man who has everything. At my hands, I think. Because no matter what Peeta says or thinks, I still feel responsible this.
I bring the sea glass to my face, pressing it into my cheek.
What do I do?
Nothing. There's nothing I can do but hope. Hope they'll make it to the mountains in time. Hope there will be some sort of Capitolized antidote that will work wonders on Peeta's shoulder. Hope that he'll come back to me. Just hope because as long as Peeta is still alive it's possible, even though it's becoming more and more difficult to convince myself of it.
I don't know how long I sit with my eyes closed, an hour, maybe. It's Finnick's distressed voice that tears me from my fitful thoughts.
"Shit," Finnick says and I open my eyes. He's hovering over Peeta, who has fallen to his knees and is dry- heaving into the sand. My breath catches in my throat and, like some sort of terrible train wreck, I'm unable to look away. Peeta makes a retching sound and my heart thumps loudly in my chest. Beetee glances to the left: they're close to another grouping of trees.
"He hasn't eaten anything, there's nothing left for him to throw up," Finnick explains to Johanna, who looks at him in worry. She's started to become paler now too, even in the short time they've been walking.
"Let's cut through this group of trees. Peeta needs water. And food. We all do. The effects of that venom will be disastrous if he doesn't eat or drink soon," Beetee explains, before pushing aside some branches and looking back towards his companions. Finnick nods wordlessly before turning to Johanna.
Just say it! I want to shout. Just tell them to leave him there! I know you want to!
Johanna turns from Finnick to Peeta, mouth set in a frown.
"Do you need help carrying him, Finnick?" she asks as she adjusts the axe on her belt.
"No. But you need to lead. I won't be able to defend us," he responds, and with that Finnick heaves Peeta onto his shoulder and they're off.
I honestly don't know what to think at this point. I keep expecting Finnick Odair and Johanna Mason to drop Peeta whenever the time is appropriate. After all, there can only be one Victor. But they keep him. And they're helping him.
Why?
Johanna leads the group into the forest, which isn't as thickly packed with trees as the other two we've seen. The sun filters through the treetops, casting light on the tops of their heads. Peeta leans heavily on Finnick's shoulder as they work their way through the vines and creepers on the forest floor. Before long they reach a stream much like the one in the forest with the cat mutts. I've been on edge the entire Games, but having Peeta in unknown territory, likely close to danger makes my heart rattle against my ribs and a thick dread fill my bones.
Finnick helps Peeta sit before he empties the sheath of arrows and fills it with water.
"Peeta, think you can drink this?" Finnick asks. Peeta is slumped against the tree, blue eyes glassy and face pale as ever. He takes a large, labored breath before he shakes his head. The simple action was clearly exhausting for him.
"I don't think I can keep it down," he whispers. "I don't feel so great."
"You sweated a lot last night. You're dehydrated so that's adding to the nausea. You need to," Finnick presses, handing Peeta the sheath. Peeta's hands tremble as he holds the sheath, slowly bringing it to his lips. He continues to take small sips when he decides he can stomach it.
Finnick and Beetee watch him carefully but Peeta is able to keep the water down, surely because he was already so dehydrated. His body needed it.
Johanna drinks next, eyes never leaving Peeta's drooped form. She must be wondering when the venom will start coursing through her system as violently as it is through Peeta's. Finnick wanders around the stream, armed with his trident, looking for any new mutts that the Capitol has created; he seems just as confused as I feel that they've been left alone for the time being.
Johanna plants herself next to Peeta and offers him the sheath again.
"We need to change that moss," Beetee observes quietly, having already gathered some off of the surrounding trees. Peeta nods and closes his eyes as Beetee starts to pull the bandaging away from his shoulder.
I briefly consider turning away, remembering the way I barely handled the wound that cost Peeta his leg during our Hunger Games. I don't, though, because I feel as though it's my cross to bear as well. I did this to him. I pulled out those damn berries. I had to fall in love with him. I did this to him.
"Oh," Beetee breathes, as he pulls away the soiled moss.
I wish I had closed my eyes because seeing the state of Peeta's shoulder nearly derails me.
It's swollen and the gashes from the cat's claws have left the flesh slightly mangled. But it's the green tinge that the skin has taken that roils my stomach; it's beginning to fester. If I was worried before, I don't know what to call how I feel now.
"Well I can't see any bone so it's automatically better than my last Games, if you ask me," Peeta says. I should be annoyed at his attempt to lighten the situation but I can't help but feel strangely relieved. He hasn't tried to crack a joke since last night so it's obvious that the water has helped him.
"Still hurts, though," Peeta adds with a wince as Beetee wraps the clean moss around his shoulder. Johanna is silent as she cleans her leg herself. Her wound isn't as bad as Peeta's and therefore not as green or swollen.
Prim shifts beside me and I turn to her.
"How bad is it, Prim?" I whisper, my voice hoarse from lack of use. Prim pauses before answering, sympathy and fear evident in her gaze.
"I've never seen anything like that," she says. I can tell she wants to end the discussion here but there must be something in my eyes—desperation, maybe—that pushes her for more.
"I don't know," she says softly, squeezing my arm again.
I look to Gale and Madge for the first time in hours, pushing away my anxiety, and struggle for something to say to them.
Thank you for being here?
Sorry for my complete inability to handle the current situation?
Madge looks back at me, eyes tired, but she sits upright on her chair next to Gale, whose face is completely unreadable. He's looking at me, brows furrowed down. I turn back to the screen.
The group enjoys their time collecting themselves by the stream. None of them dare mention the lack of obstacles they've faced in this forested area for fear that they bring unwanted attention to the matter.
I'm about to ask Haymitch about it when I hear it.
My scream rings through the forest.
Peeta's eyes widen and his mouth drops open in shock. He turns to Finnick, Johanna, and Beetee, mouth agape and limbs paralyzed with fear. They all seem to be just as shocked as he is. Peeta waits three seconds before moving.
"KATNISS!" he bellows as he struggles to get off the ground, my screams beginning to fill the forest completely, one pitiful sound after another.
"What's happening?" I ask Haymitch, a tremor in my voice. "What's going on?"
I turn quickly to Haymitch, my eyes wide and confused. Haymitch rubs at his face with his hands before answering.
"It's those damn jabberjays," he responds. "They're imitating your voice."
Of course, I think. How could I have forgotten? I was too wrapped up in Peeta's infected shoulder to pay attention to which forest they had decided to take refuge in. I remember the way Gloss ran through the forest and knocked himself unconscious. My stomach rises to my throat and I'm filled with a sort of trepidation I've never felt before.
Johanna tries to hold Peeta back as he gets up off the ground but he shoves her back and takes off into the trees with surprising speed considering his sickened state.
"Peeta!" the traitor Katniss wails.
"Katniss!" he screams back. "Katniss!"
Peeta stumbles on some creepers as he heads deeper into the forest. His eyes are wide and panicked, his face white despite the exertion of thundering through the trees. Everything is happening too fast. Peeta's running too fast. My thoughts are flying through my head too fast.
The screen splits in two now, finally showing the rest of the allies as they stand by the stream in confusion. Finnick is about to run after Peeta when another voice joins the mix, a woman, from the sounds of it. She doesn't say anything, no words are spoken, but her blood curdling screams are enough to make the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Finnick's face contorts and then he's off, following Peeta into the woods for a completely different reason.
"Annie!" he yells, running at breakneck speed through the trees, jumping over vines and rocks with an agility that Peeta cannot muster. I should be concerned, curious even, as to who this mystery woman is but Peeta has begun to cry and I can't focus on anything else anymore.
"Katniss!" he bawls, the sound breaking on his tongue and creating small fissures in my heart. He's slowed down, clumsily hitting trees, scraping at the bark with his fingers to gain balance. He's still so weak and he's used all of the little energy he had to try and find me. Peeta wails my name over and over, vainly staggering through the trees in search of me. I've never seen him this distressed, not during our Hunger Games, not when his name was called for the Quarter Quell, not even when he left me. I can't breathe because of it. I can't help him.
Suddenly the screen splits in three: Johanna and Beetee are still by the stream, arguing about what to do. I try to concentrate on their discussion, I think they've figured it out, but I'm too distracted by the tears streaming down Peeta's cheeks.
"Fuck," Johanna spits, limping after the two distraught men. She moves forward followed closely by Beetee, chasing the sound of Peeta and Finnick's hysterical voices. They're both close to the edge of the trees when Peeta's cries fade and he collapses in a heap, beginning to convulse violently.
In this moment my thoughts go from frantic to nonexistent, my mind strangely blank, as I watch Peeta's body shudder on the forest floor.
Prim's hand leaves mine and moves to my face. My body's shaking, I realize, and when I make eye contact with Prim a sob rips its way through my chest—it's the only sound in my silent house.
Johanna finds Peeta on the forest floor, tries to pick him up but fails. Beetee kneels down next to him, holding Peeta's head steady in his small hands.
"Find Finnick, get him out of the trees," Beetee orders calmly. I can tell that Johanna is put off by being ordered around by the older man but she limps off anyway, leaving Beetee to care for Peeta alone.
I watch in a frozen panic as Peeta's body seizes and his eyes rolled far back in his head. There's an intense pressure in my chest and my sobs can't find their way out of my mouth anymore. Everything seems to be moving in slow motion.
I'm helpless. I can't help him.
"Katniss," Prim says. I'm sure I look a wreck. I must, because I feel as though I'm being ripped in two. Prim, however, maintains some semblance of calm—after all, there has to be at least one Everdeen girl keeping her emotions in check during times like these. It's usually been me but as the events of the last few weeks have transpired Prim has begun to take the role more and more often. She tries to hide it but I can tell she's distressed and I can see the unshed tears behind her eyes.
"It's a seizure, Katniss," she whispers. "I don't—I don't know. It happens sometimes with Mother's patients." I grip her hand harder. Tell me, I urge her silently, struggling to find her eyes through my tears.
"It's not—sometimes they live."
Another sob finds it's way out of my mouth and I can feel the tears dropping into my lap. I have no idea what to do, I want to crawl out of my skin, but I watch on as Peeta continues to shake violently on the ground. This can't be it.
Please.
The screen splits again: showing that Johanna has managed to get Finnick out of the trees. He's putting up a massive fight but Johanna is screaming at him, threatening him with her axe.
"They're jabberjays, Finnick!" she shouts at him. "They're using Annie's voice to mess with you. They're using Katniss' voice to mess with Peeta."
Finnick stares at her, green eyes watery and wild.
"They've stopped now that you're out of the trees. Do you realize? Think!" Her arms grip Finnick's shoulders tightly. "They've stopped Finn. Look," she says, pointing to the trees. "See them?"
Sure enough, a few jabberjays are perched in the branches, pruning their feathers in silence, as if the world isn't ending. It is, though, because on the other screen Peeta's stopped moving.
My mind shuts down.
Beetee checks his pulse and sighs.
SAY SOMETHING! I scream inwardly, TELL ME HE'S BREATHING. But my arms are locked at my sides, my jaw clenched painfully.
I feel a heavy arm around my shoulders and I turn quickly, surprised by the contact. Gale is next to me on the couch now, pulling me closer. I stare at him, begging him to give me an answer I want.
"His chest is rising, Catnip," he says quietly. A rush of air leaves my mouth and I start to cry again, hiccuping pathetically and gasping through my tears.
"Yeah?" I ask Gale, wiping at the wetness on my cheeks with the back of my hand, staring intently at the screen and not even bothering to try to calm myself down. Gale is right, though. Peeta's chest is rising and falling and he's alive.
Miraculously, he's still alive.
"Peeta's in trouble, Finn," Johanna continues and Finnick finally turns to her. "He's having a seizure," she swallows. "It's probably the venom and I can't lift him out of the forest. Do you understand?" she says slowly. Finnick changes now, becoming the protector once again and Johanna leads him back through the trees to Peeta's limp form.
"He's breathing," Beetee informs them when they arrive. "I think the venom and the emotional stress from the jabberjays were too much."
Finnick bends down and struggles to lift Peeta over his shoulder before they walk out of the trees. Finnick takes off his jacket and lays Peeta on top of it just as he starts to come to. Peeta moans out something incoherent and Johanna shushes him.
"You scared us," she says, voice hard, accusatory. Johanna's voice must make something register within Peeta because he jolts up suddenly, only to be pushed down by Finnick.
"Where is she?" Peeta slurs. "Where's Katniss? Let me up!" he says, becoming more hysterical with each word. His limbs, uncoordinated, push at the sand.
"No, Peeta. That was a trick. They were jabberjays programmed to imitate Katniss' voice," Finnick explains, as though he's still trying to believe it himself.
"No," Peeta shouts, angry now. "No it was her— That was her screaming. That was her calling my name. I know her," he says, out of breath and trying desperately to get back up despite his uncooperative limbs.
"Stop moving you idiot, you're making your shoulder worse," Johanna snaps. "And Finnick's right. That's why Beetee and I couldn't hear them. They were using Katniss' screams from her Hunger Games. They were using a girl named Annie on Finnick, she won a few years ago. They already have Katniss and Annie's screams on tape because they're both Victors. They've already made those sounds. Katniss screamed your name last time, didn't she?"
Peeta takes a second to process this, opening his mouth and then closing it before turning to Finnick for confirmation. Finnick remains silent, a strange look in his eyes.
"But you said," Peeta continues, turning to Johanna, shaken. "You said you wouldn't be surprised if they had her already."
Johanna makes an exasperated sound. She's about to continue arguing with Peeta, but Finnick interrupts them.
"Peeta," Finnick says quietly. "It's true. It wasn't them." The two men share a long look and I guess Peeta must believe Finnick because he finally lets the subject go.
Peeta closes his eyes and lets his head fall back in the sand, his blonde hair now streaked with dirt and grime. He focuses on breathing for a few moments and I try to do the same.
He's still here. He's still alive.
I inhale deeply, sniffling as my heart rate slows. The breath leaves my mouth in a shaky exhale. Gale's arm is still around my shoulder and I look up at him. His eyes are troubled and his mouth is set in a straight, thin line. I don't know what to say to him. I don't know how to express my gratitude correctly, so as always, I say something stupid.
"Shouldn't you be at the mines?" I ask him in a voice that's barely audible. He looks at me like I have four heads. Maybe I do at this point, I think. How else am I containing all these feelings? Gale shrugs, giving me a small smile despite the intensity of the situation.
"You don't just leave your hunting partner when they're in trouble," he says.
There's nothing I can add or take away from the statement, so I let it hang in the air between us. He's right. Through thick and thin, I will have his back and he will have mine. We're best friends after all.
"Thank you," I whisper, turning my attention to the screen once more.
It's the middle of the day at this point and the sun is beating down on the four of them. It was agreed upon that they would spend the next half hour resting because Peeta is still far too weak to move. Johanna stares at her leg wound, gingerly tracing the moss that covers it with her index finger. Finnick runs his trident through the sand and Beetee is staring off in the direction of the mountains. Peeta is rolled over onto his side, his wounded shoulder up in the air. The exertion from running through the trees was too much, it appears, because the once clean moss is now soaked through with blood. If it hurts him, he doesn't let it show. In fact, he shows no emotion at all and that's what's most frightening to me. His face is an impassive mask and his eyes are haunted. It's obvious that he, like me, thinks the jabberjays were a worse form of torture than the venomous cats: sometimes the worst forms of torture aren't physical. Having to watch Peeta in this Quell, not being with him, has shown me that. The human body is resilient but emotions are dangerously fragile. Maybe that's why I feel as though I've run 10 miles. I sit between Prim and Gale, silently watching Peeta's eyes, trying to telepathically speak to him.
"I'm just going to live in that moment…when you said you loved me. I'll stay in it forever," he had said after I confessed my feelings for him.
"But that won't make you stronger, that won't help you in the arena," I had whispered back to him. I realize my mistake now, how he had been right all along.
"But it does. It gives me something to fight for," he had said. That's the only thing that I can him now: something to fight for.
The words becomes my silent mantra that I hope for him to hear: I love you. Always.
Beetee, of everyone, gets the most restless the most quickly.
"We need to make it to those mountains," he says to the group quietly. No one responds at first. Beetee looks as if he's about to repeat himself when Peeta laborously moves into a sitting position.
"How long will it take?" he asks quietly.
"Depends on how fast you can move," Beetee answers. The statement, coming from anyone else's mouth, would seem malicious, but coming from Beetee it's laced thick with concern.
"As fast as you need me to," Peeta answers resolutely.
"Ok then," Johanna sighs. "Now that that's answered, let's get the fuck out of here."
It takes them about two hours to walk their way to the mountains. Peeta, though he started out relatively fine, has become extremely slow, barely making it the mountain before he can no longer walk on his own. Johanna vomited twice, the affects of the venom finally taking hold of her small frame. In fact, the small scratches that Peeta and Finnick obtained fighting off the cats seem to be more inflamed than before as well. Everything is falling apart.
By the time they reach the rocky face of the mountain, Peeta looks as though he's a breath away from fainting and Johanna can barely walk on her wounded leg.
The four of them flounder around the side of the mountain a bit before they find a small alcove in its side. It's very small: about big enough for two people to fit comfortably. Johanna slides in, followed by Beetee.
Peeta sinks down and leans against a large rock, closing his eyes.
"What now," he whispers, face gaunt and grey. Johanna sits beside him in the alcove, tremors running through her body. Beetee is hovering around the small space, rubbing his hands on the rocks.
"Wait for something to happen, I guess," Finnick says, twirling his trident with his wrists as he walks around the area. Johanna eyes Beetee with caution, wiping the sweat off her brow.
"What the fuck are you doing?" she asks Beetee. The sicker Johanna has become, the fouler her language gets. It's jarring coming from such a small person.
"Checking for hidden passages," Beetee answers immediately and matter-of-factly, as if the answer should be obvious.
"How many are left?" Peeta asks the group with his eyes closed. I count in my head. The two Careers have yet to make an appearance and there's still Chaff from District 11. I have no idea where they could be in this vast desert but I know the Gamemakers won't keep them far for very long.
And then, as if they could read my mind, the Gamemakers force the screen into three once more.
They've implemented another sandstorm. Chaff is struggling through the sand and the fish bites on his face make him look almost unrecognizable. The Careers—Gloss and Enobaria—are right behind him and they reach the mountains faster than I expect. Perhaps they had been nudging the three of them toward Peeta and his group the entire time.
Although Chaff looks worse for wear, the two Careers are obviously in better shape than Peeta and his allies. Gloss's black eye has turned yellow, the bruise fading, but he sports a deep gash on his other cheek. Enobaria looks to be completely unharmed.
Finnick stands near the alcove warily, watching as the storm fades away. Peeta brings out his dagger, still crouched behind the enormous boulder. His bow and arrows are still in the forest with the jabberjays, not that he would be able to use them anyway. Johanna struggles to stand while holding her axe. The rock and the alcove hide everyone from view except for Finnick.
This is it, isn't it? This is finale.
My pulse slows and my limbs become heavy, the adrenaline coursing through my veins at a frantic pace. I feel like I'm back on the launch pad getting ready to run from the Cornucopia. I feel like Prim's name has been called. I'm sick to my stomach.
Chaff thunders closer and Finnick raises his trident. It's no use, though. Gloss hurls his spear at the older man. It sticks with a thump and Chaff collapses on the sand in a heap. The sound of the cannon rings through the house.
In the very recesses of my mind I think about turning around and offering my condolences to Haymitch but I can't bring myself to do it. Chaff was his friend, his 'buddy', but Peeta's still in danger and he's my everything.
"All by your lonesome, Pretty Boy?" Gloss taunts, pulling his spear out of Chaff's back. "Where's your ragtag group of misfits?"
"Who's to say I didn't kill them already? Didn't you hear the cannons?" Finnick asks with a charming smile. "Is your skull really that thick, Gloss?"
Gloss takes a step forward, struggling to find a response to Finnick's statement. He glances at Enobaria who has yet to speak. Peeta, Johanna and Beetee remain unseen, listening intently.
"Where are you hiding them?" Enobaria hisses through her fangs. "There were no canons."
"I don't know where they are," Finnick answers, gripping his trident more tightly in his hand. "But if you've come to finish me off, by all means…" Finnick says, gesturing to himself.
Johanna slides down the wall of the alcove, now unable to put weight on her leg. Beetee continues to run his hands frantically over the rocks. Johanna glances at him, giving him a strange look.
"Have you completely lost your mind?" she whispers to him but Beetee ignores her. Peeta isn't even paying attention to their exchange and I realize he's moved closer to the edge of the rock he's hiding behind.
"Shit, kid," Haymitch says behind me. It's the first thing he's said in over a day, I realize, and the timing isn't a coincidence. Haymitch isn't one for words, just like me. When mentoring, Haymitch would really only feel the need to talk to us when he felt we were doing something stupid or putting ourselves in danger.
Peeta is doing both: he's going to try to protect Finnick.
He grips his dagger tightly in his hand and pushes himself to the very edge of the rock, listening carefully to Finnick's exchange with the careers even though it's strenuous just keeping his eyes open.
"Don't taunt me, Odair, you're outnumbered," Gloss says.
Finnick says nothing. I don't know why he hasn't moved to the alcove, or called Johanna or Peeta for help. I don't understand anything anymore.
Enobaria nudges Gloss forward and he raises his spear just as there is a large rumbling from above. Everyone stops—Johanna, Beetee, Finnick, Gloss, Enobaria, Peeta—and looks up.
A few pebbles roll down the side of the mountain and rain down on Finnick, bouncing off his head and shoulders. Peeta remains frozen in place, watching as the pebbles become larger with each passing second.
Johanna's eyes widen and she looks back at Beetee, who is now pressed tightly against the wall of the rocky alcove.
A rock nearly hits Finnick's face and he moves to back away. Gloss, however, follows him, lunging forward with his spear raised. I brace myself for his hit but it's not Finnick who gets the spear, it's Peeta, who has pushed himself out from behind the rock and in front of Finnick's body.
My heart, which had been beating furiously in my chest, seems to stop altogether. I stare openly at the screen and watch as times stands still and Peeta slumps onto Finnick.
The rocks falling from the mountain turn into boulders and Finnick dodges them to pull them him and Peeta into the alcove to avoid being hit. They barely fit in the small space. Finnick lays Peeta on the ground, fingers moving uselessly at his side where the spear remains embedded in the flesh right above his left hip.
"Shit!" he shouts over the sound of the avalanche. "Shit, Peeta."
Peeta only groans in response. The rocks are beginning to pile up around them, nudging into Peeta's side and shoulder. Finnick uses Peeta's dagger to cut the long part of the spear away, leaving only the blade in his side. In the back of my mind I remember Mother doing something like this with miners who have been caught on the wrong end of a rock pick but I can't place the memory. I can't speak or breathe or think.
The rocks fall steadily now, becoming larger and larger with each passing second. Gloss and Enobaria haven't dared follow Finnick and Peeta around the corner for fear of being crushed.
Peeta's eyes flicker to his new wound and he lets out a tiny gasp. Whatever color his face held is now completely gone. He's fading fast and I'm too shocked by the speed with which things have progressed to comprehend anything. I'm left to watch in horror as the scene unfolds before me.
"You'll tell her right?" Peeta whispers so softly I'm surprised the cameras can pick it up. Blood is blooming from the new wound on his side very quickly. I remember this from a dream—a nightmare—in the weeks before he left. The terror I felt then is nothing compared to the reality of the matter. And it's not Peeta's solid, warm self that's comforting me now. He's thousands of miles away…dying.
Johanna looks at him in alarm from her place against the wall; he's addressed her of all people. When she doesn't respond he speaks again, his voice fading with each word.
"I tried. You have to tell her when I don't—"
"You'll tell her yourself you idiot!" Johanna shouts angrily through the sound of the falling rocks, though the look in her eyes suggests fear, not ire. "Don't make me—" she whispers. "You'll tell her yourself, OK?" she responds, moving closer to him, grabbing his face in her hands. "You'll tell her yourself."
Peeta's response is a sigh before his eyes flutter closed.
Please, no.
Finnick pushes Johanna against Beetee in the alcove. The older man hasn't said anything since the rocks started to fall and his eyes remain trained on the blade sticking out of Peeta's side.
Peeta is breathing heavily—still breathing— but it's getting hard to see him through the rocks that are piling up around them, forcing them up against the wall. They're narrowly being missed as it is and Finnick heaves Peeta back up, shoving him up against the wall of the tiny recess in the mountain before the rocks slide in and pin them together.
The camera can't get a proper view and I can't see him.
Where is he?
Please, no.
The four of them are now blocked completely from view. The boulders have covered them and the only sound is that of rock crashing on top of rock. I grip Prim's hand hard, trying to remain rooted to the ground because I feel as though I might fall away at any moment.
After a few seconds the avalanche stops and all is quiet. The only sound in the room is the blood rushing violently through my head. I feel like my mouth and ears are stuffed with cotton.
I can't move. I'm frozen, too shocked by the speed with which things have escalated, too stubborn to believe that it's over.
He can't have died—I won't accept it. But all I can see is his infected shoulder and the blade sticking out of his side. All I can see is his face loosing color and his eyes fluttering closed. I can feel the tears falling from my cheeks, blurring my vision. The cannon shots—four of them—confirm my deepest fear.
Out of everything—the cut from District 10's knife, the cat mutt scratches, the venom, the spear to the side— a cave-in is what ended it.
"No, that's wrong," I say to the room, whipping my head around wildly, landing on Prim, Madge, Gale, all of whom give me different looks that I immediately regret seeing. Madge's shoulders tremble and Gale's hands are fisted at his sides. Prim's eyes are wide, like she too can't believe it's happened. She truly believed that Peeta would come back to us. I believed it too.
"No." The word escapes my mouth in a quiet huff. I wipe my cheeks hastily—they're wet. I look to Haymitch. He should know that it doesn't make sense. There's no way the Gamemakers would allow four Tributes to die at once—not with so few to begin with. He'll know what's right and what's wrong. He's my Mentor, he'll know what do to. He always knows.
"Haymitch?" I ask him, feeling as small and worn as my voice surely sounds. He can't meet my eyes because for once he has no answers.
"He'll die in there," he told me one night.
For a moment I think I might be dreaming, that I fell asleep on the couch last night and I'll wake up to see Finnick and Peeta making fun of Johanna. Better yet, I'll wake up and Peeta will be here with me. He'll make me laugh and I'll be able to see his smile through the dark.
I can't help it anymore. I start to cry.
I whip back to the television screen in time to see Enobaria and Gloss locked in fierce battle. Above them, the scoreboard announces them as the "Final Two". A hovercraft is trying to clear the rubble from the side of the mountain. I clamp a hand over my mouth to try and stifle a wail. The choked, gasping sobs find their way out of my mouth anyway.
I can't see anymore, my head is a warped, grey haze. Somehow, throughout this mess, I was able to hold on to some semblance of hope. Hope that he would survive, that we would be okay and that we would continue on together. Because that's how we do things: together.
But it didn't happen.
I should've known the minute he was attacked by that cat. Or when his body started to shut down from the poison. Hell, I should have known the minute his name was called for the Quarter Quell or when I pulled out those berries. I should have been prepared for this.
I stumble out of the house, ignoring the calls of Prim and Gale, and slip on the snow in the yard. It's cold. Everything's cold.
I fly down the road to town, intent on the forest, when I see those damn roses at the entrance to the Victor's Village. The Capitol's muttation roses. They're blooming and red and beautiful and fake.
"I always hated that thing," he told me once, referring to the strange rose bush. His hand had been warm in mine and I could still taste his lips. I can still see his eyes glittering in the dark, feel the heat of his skin and hear his laugh.
I turn on my heel and run straight for the roses, dropping to my knees and grabbing at the offensive red petals. I rip them apart as fast as I can, grasping the petals in my fingers and tearing.
I hate them too.
I take hold of the thorny stems, yanking upwards, ignoring the pain I feel in my hands, the tears that streak down my cheeks and the blood that's dotting the snowy ground. The thorns cut into my skin and I can tell that I'm probably destroying my hands.
It doesn't hurt, though. Not compared to my heart, which is strange because I know I've lost it.
I gave it to Peeta and he's gone.