Catching Fire in Peeta's Point of View
I'm sure that if it were up to some of you, this series would be finished in ten chapters! But I don't like to let you down, so I've mashed up some of the chapters I have pre-written and hopefully these future chapters will be long enough for you all.
Chapter Six
We return home to District Twelve, but aren't able to see our families until that evening, when we're treated to a feast in the Mayor's house. After that, life returns to how it was, with the exception of Katniss and I being friends. I go back to painting my nightmares and spending most of my days in the Bakery with my parents, visiting Haymitch regularly to make sure he doesn't die in the night, and delivering colourful cupcakes to Prim and her mother in the hopes of seeing Katniss.
There's one day I'm just leaving Prim, making my way to the bakery when Katniss appears with her cheeks flushed and her usual Game bag slung over one shoulder.
"Been hunting?" I ask, making sure she knows that I disapprove.
"Not really. Going to town?"
"Yes. I'm supposed to eat dinner with my family." I tell her.
"Well, I can at least walk you in." I nod my head and we set off towards the bakery side by side. Katniss seems to be thinking something over because she's chewing on her lip and staring intently at the ground beneath our feet. I frown a little but otherwise don't comment, allow her to stew in her own thoughts. I'm just glad to be in her company.
"Peeta, if I asked you to run away from the District with me, would you?" she suddenly blurts out and I'm almost frozen in shock. I grab her arm and make her stop walking to look at me. I know she's serious, she wouldn't be asking if she weren't. But run away?
"Depends on why you're asking." I answer, the beat in my chest fluttering a little. Run away together, just me and her? No, she would never leave her mother and sister behind. Probably not Gale, either. The idea of running from District Twelve is very sudden, surely it's not because of our upcoming marriage?
"President Snow wasn't convinced by me. There's an uprising in District Eight. We have to get out."
"By 'we' do you mean just you and me? No. Who else would be going?" I'm not sure I want to hear the answer, I'm not sure why I'm even considering hearing her out.
"My family. Yours, if they want to come. Haymitch, maybe." She says, leaving out one name that's hanging between the both of us.
"What about Gale?"
"I don't know. He might have other plans." She answers. I shake my head and smile at her, because this is all so ludicrous.
"I bet he does. Sure, Katniss, I'll go."
"You will?" she breathes, looking up at me.
"Yeah. But I don't think for a minute you will." She pulls her arm from my grip.
"Then you don't know me. Be ready. It could be any time." She turns and walks away, but I follow behind her.
"Katniss." I try to get her attention, but she carries on walking, not looking at me, pretending she can't hear. So stubborn. "Katniss, hold up." She stops, kicking some snow from the path. "I really will go, if you want me to. I just think we better talk it through with Haymitch. Make sure we won't be making things worse for everyone." I lift my head, because there's an odd noise. "What's that?" I ask. It takes me a moment to place it, because it's a sound not often heard. But I'm positive it's the sound of a whip.
"Come on," I say, heading for the square.
There's a large crowd in the square blocking our view. I stand up on a crate to get a better look, holding my hand out for Katniss. I look across the heads to see what the commotion is, to see who the unlucky person is. His head is lowered, hair covering most of his face but there's no mistaking who it is. My first instinct is to block Katniss from seeing, to get her far away. Because I know her reaction.
"Get down. Get out of here!" I hiss at her.
"What?" She tries to get up again.
"Go home, Katniss! I'll be there in a minute, I swear!" She can't see this. Katniss pulls violently from me and begins to push her way through the crowd. I jump down to pull her back and away, but am too late. The sea have people have already closed up in front of me. I begin to push my way through, ignoring the mutters from those around me. I'm halfway through when I hear her.
"No!" she screams, and then the hard sound of a whip hitting flesh. "Stop it! You'll kill him!" She's shrieking, and I push harder through the people. Why won't they move! I break through, just as Haymitch is striding towards them. I don't know who the man is with the whip in his hand, I only know that Gale is near death, Darius seems to be unconscious on the ground and Katniss has a nasty looking mark on her cheek.
Haymitch has his hand under Katniss' chin, seeming to inspect her face.
"Oh, excellent. She's got a photo shoot next week modelling wedding dresses. What am I supposed to tell her stylist?" Haymitch asks out loud, and for a brief moment I want to hit him for being concerned about the wrong thing. Until I see realisation dawn on the old man's face.
"She interrupted the punishment of a confessed criminal." The man says, and I can't help wondering who he is. Why he's here, and where old man Cray is.
"I don't care if she blew up the blasted Justice Building! Look at her cheek! Think that will be camera ready in a week?"
"That's not my problem," the old man retorts, sounding like he might be starting to crack.
"No? Well, it's about to be, my friend. The first call I make when I get home is to the Capitol," tht's impossible, since Haymitch doesn't have a phone any more. Nobody has to know that, though. "Find out who authorised you to mess up my victor's pretty little face!" I wander out from the crowd and to Katniss, gently taking her free arm. Placing myself subtly between her and this old, harsh man.
"He was poaching. What business is it of hers, anyway?" I don't know, she's probably a little bit in love with him. I think bitterly, glancing at Katniss' face, which is beginning to swell.
"He's her cousin," Haymitch says.
"And she's my fiancée. So if you want to get to him, expect to go through both of us." He's not the first person on my list of people to protect, but I know his safety has a direct correlation with Katniss' happiness; and lately, she needs as much of that as she can get. The old man glances back at his back up squad, at faces I recognise. A woman steps forward.
"I believe, for a first offence, the required number of lashes has been dispersed, sir. Unless your sentence is death, which we would carry out by a firing squad."
"Is that the standard protocol here?"
"Yes, sir." The others are nodding in their agreement.
"Very well. Get your cousin our of here, then, girl. And if he comes to, remind him that the next time he poaches off the Capitol's land, I'll assemble that firing squad personally." I have a bad feeling about this man and his sudden appearance in the District. I let go of Katniss' arm, because she's turning and frantically trying to undo the knots at Gale's wrist. Someone hands me a knife and I cut through them, so that he crumples to the floor.
"Better get him to your mother," Haymitch says, staring down at the wounds on his flesh. I don't want to concentrate on them. Someone hands us a board to carry him, but wants us to keep it quiet. I'm not surprised. It looks like things are changing. I can't help my thoughts wandering to District Eleven, where they have high fences and gun towers. Hopefully, it won't get that bad.
I help to carry Gale, along with Haymitch and some men who I believe are miners. We head up to Katniss' house in the Victor Village, and some girl appears at Katniss' side.
"Need help getting back?" the small girl asks, and I have to commend her bravery when most of the District had fled to their homes.
"No, but can you get Hazelle? Send her over?"
"Yeah," the girls turns and begins to run.
"Leevy! Don't let her bring the kids." Kids? I think I remember something about Gale having younger siblings, although I've never taken much of an interest in his life. I stay silent as we walk, listening to the men piecing together the story of how Gale came to be tied to the whipping post.
"What about Darius?" I asked, remembering him laying with a nasty bruise on the ground.
"After about twenty lashes, he stepped in, saying that was enough. Only he didn't so it smart and official, like Purina did. He grabbed Thread's arm and thread hit him in the head with the butt of the whip. Nothing good waiting for him." I wonder if we'll see Darius again.
"Doesn't sound like much good for any of us," Haymitch mutters. It starts snowing around us, a thick storm that doesn't allow us to see too far ahead. We finally make it, and Katniss' mother is already waiting. She glances down at Gale in confusion.
"New Head," Haymitch says, which seems to be all the explanation she needs. We help lift Gale into the kitchen, and stand back to allow Prim and her mother set to work. It's really rather amazing to watch them go, a hard, determined expression falling over the face of the woman who's always so pleased to see me at the door. Who invites me in for tea and to talk.
"Did it cut your eye?" Katniss' mother asks her, glancing at the wound on Katniss' face whilst still working at the wounds on Gale.
"No, it's just swelled shut."
"Get more snow on it." She instructs, but her attention instantly falls upon the boy on her table.
"Can you save him?" Katniss asks her mother in a small voice, but Mrs Everdeen doesn't answer.
"Don't worry. Used to be a lot of whipping before Cray. She's the one we took them to." I remember a time like that, but only because my father had returned home one night with similar welts and cuts on his body. I don't remember the crime he had committed, only the blood and how suddenly mortal my father was. The man who was always there for me, who had seemed invincible. I remember weeping in a corner, whilst they argued over whether to come and see Katniss' mother, the healer.
"I don't want you being anywhere near that woman!" My mother had hissed.
"Would you rather I died, instead? Would that make you happier?" I had never heard my father angry before, not many times. He's always been the calmest person I know, so listening to him talk about dying made me cry out. I pleaded with them both to save my father, to let him go and see the healer. They hadn't realised I'd been listening in, but agreed to go straight away after finally managing to calm me down. I guess my mother had always known about my father's affections for this woman in front of me.
I notice Katniss staring down at Gale, with a helpless, confused expression on her face. Water drips from her gloved hand, where she's holding a melting pile of snow. I pull a chair out and make her sit down, gather some fresh snow in a cloth and hold it against her cheek. I don't speak to her, because there's nothing I can say to get through to her now. Her only concern is Gale.
A woman arrives that I don't know, but remember seeing around the District. She sits down next to the table and takes a hold of Gale's hand, pulling it to her lips. We all stay where we are, silent and watching. It takes a long time to clean out the wounds, and I can sense how wound up Katniss is. There's still nothing I can do. A small moan comes from Gale's mouth, meaning he's regaining consciousness. Prim and her mother are talking of painkillers, but decide on a herbal concoction instead.
"That won't be enough," Katniss says, and I'm so startled I actually jump. She had been so quiet. All eyes turn to Katniss. "That won't be enough, I know how it feels. That will barely knock out a headache."
"We'll combine it with sleep syrup, Katniss, and he'll manage it. The herbs are more for inflammation-" Katniss mother tries to explain, but all the tension and worry seems to burst out of Katniss at once.
"Just give him the medicine!" She screams. "Give it to him! Who are you, anyway, to decide how much pain he can stand!"
"Take her out." Her mother snaps, and Haymitch and I have to physically carry her out of the room. She thrashes against us and shouts obscenities at her mother that I would never dare to utter in the presence of my own mother. We pin her onto a bed in one of the bedrooms until she finally stops fighting us. She curls in on herself and sobs, whilst Haymitch and I stand there uselessly.
"She says President Snow wasn't convinced," I whisper to Haymitch. "There was some kind of uprising in District Eight. She wants us all to run." Haymitch doesn't answer me, his gaze flicking back to Katniss.
Haymitch and I both take a seat and wait, until Katniss' mother comes in quietly and treats the wound on her cheek. I only listen whilst Haymitch and Katniss' mother talk, something about it starting again and being sorry to see Cray go. Not a likeable man, but at least he wasn't in the habit of whipping people.
The doorbell rings, and Katniss is up like a shot.
"They can't have him," she says.
"Might be you they're after." Haymitch replies.
"Or you," she retorts back.
"Not my house. But I'll get the door."
"No, I'll get it." Katniss' mother says quietly. We all follow her down the stairs and it's not Peacekeepers at the door, but Madge, the Mayor's daughter. She holds a cardboard box out to Katniss.
"Use these for your friend. They're my mother's. She said I could take them. Use them, please." She turns and runs back out into the snow storm before anybody has a chance to say anything. I have to wonder why the Mayor's daughter would be so worried for a boy from the Seam and his well-being.
"Crazy girl," Haymitch mutters. We all crowd back into the kitchen, where Katniss' mother fills a syringe with whatever Madge had handed over, and shoots it into Gale. The reaction is instant, and the pain melts away from his face.
"What is that stuff?" I ask.
"It's from the Capitol. It's called morphling."
"I didn't even know Madge knew Gale," I comment.
"We used to sell her strawberries," Katniss snaps with what sounds like anger in her tone. I can't tell if she's angry with me, or with Madge. Or just everybody and everything in general.
"She must have quite a taste for them," Haymitch says.
"She's my friend." Katniss answers, saying no more on the matter. Now that Gale's pain seems to have eased with help from the Mayor's daughter, there's less tension in the room. Katniss' mother tells Haymitch and I to go home, shooing us towards the door. I try to argue with her, wanting to stay with Katniss, but she insists and Haymitch and I end up outside in the storm. We head back to our own houses.
"What's on your mind, boy?" Haymitch asks just as we reach my house. I turn to him and smile half heartedly, probably a little sadly.
"Just realising how much Katniss cares for Gale, and how I'd never get that kind of reaction from her," I tell him bluntly. It doesn't look like Haymitch is going to answer me, most likely knowing I don't really want to hear his assent. I turn and start walking to my door.
"I wouldn't be too sure, Peeta." Haymitch says, making me pause for a moment. He doesn't call me by my name often, and he certainly doesn't lie to make anyone feel better about themselves. I'm not sure what to make of it. It's quite warm in my house, and I remember the dinner I was supposed to have with my family, making a mental note to go and see them first thing in the morning. I want to call Portia and tell her everything, but I don't trust the phone lines. I don't trust a lot any more. Instead, I fall straight in to bed and go to sleep.
I wake a few hours later in a cold sweat, my heart hammering violently against my chest. I stare up at the ceiling as I try to calm down, but have to get up because the cold wind is blowing through my open window. By now, the ritual of sitting up and strapping on my leg is automatic and I don't even have to think about, unlike in the first month when I had often tried to stand up on both legs, and ended up on my face on the floor. Once I'm on my feet I pull on a shirt and close my bedroom window, attempting to keep out the bitter cold.
I start a new canvas in my painting room, making quick, short strokes with the paint and working furiously until it's finished. When I've done the last bit of paint, I pull back to look at what I have created. But it's one that I can't stand to look at, Katniss' smiling face as she's looking out of the canvas. Dressed in a flamboyant, white dress, a veil pulled back over her head. And Gale stood next to her, in a suit, with a rare smile on his lips, his painted eyes staring longingly at Katniss. That's how I'd seen them in my dream. Anger and hate boils over and I grab a pot of black paint and splash it across the canvas. A streak of paint blots out Gale's face, and I use my fingers to smear it across the painting until it's just Katniss staring out at me. I pause, wanting to hold on to the image I have created. Of a happy Katniss.
I cover the rest of the canvas in black paint, deleting the nightmare from my mind.
I stay seated for a while, staring at the black canvas sitting before me. I think on my short conversation with Haymitch, asking if the nightmares ever got better.
"Wouldn't know. Never gave it a chance to, boy." I know what Haymitch means. That he drank away the nightmares, that he did whatever he could so that they wouldn't have a chance of rooting themselves into his head. But the nightmares always have a way of getting in. I know that Haymitch will be currently in his kitchen with a bottle of liquor, not daring to sleep, but glaring wearily at the darkness outside his windows.
I don't want to sleep, because I'm too unsettled and know that the nightmares will just return. For now, I don't want to relive any of them. I leave the painting room, flicking off the light and hiding away the paintings from sight. I don't often venture into the room during the days, not wanting to be reminded of all the thoughts deep in the recesses of my mind. I just want them all to go away. I go down to the kitchen and pull out all the ingredients I need to make dough. I fall into the pattern of making and kneading the dough, something I could probably do in my sleep. I take out my frustrations on the lump laying on the counter. I pound my fists into the soft dough, over and over until I feel a fraction better.
The sun has started to rise when the loaves are cooled, so I pick three up and pull on my boots and a coat. It's still bitterly cold outside, and there's flecks of snow falling, not as bad as the storm from the night before. I stop by Haymitch's house, walking straight in. The smell hardly bothers me any more. I don't shout out for him, just in case. I find him in the living room, sprawled out on the sofa, an open bottle on the table beside him. He's snoring loudly and I know he's dead to the world, so I edge around the room and build up the fire. Once the flames are building up nicely, I leave a loaf of bread beside the bottle of liquor, and head back out into the snow. In the few minutes I'd spent in Haymitch's house, the snow has already picked up.
Katniss' house is quiet, and I walk straight in so that I'm not waking anybody, making my way straight into the kitchen. I pause at the doorway, fist tightening over one loaf of bread. My fingers dig into the crust of one of them, which I will cut off.
Gale is still on the table, sleeping more peacefully than I ever could. Kantiss is sat at his side in one of the kitchen chairs, her head down beside his as she also sleeps, her hand grasping his. I remember my nightmare, the painting, and I want to run. It hits me like a blow, seeing them together like this. In an embrace I would most likely never know. Seeing the both of them before me, I can see it plainly.
She loves Gale. Gale loves her. I love her. Katniss and I are doomed to be married, and live a life of pretence. It's something that some people might be glad for, and consider some kind of Victory. But I hate the Capitol for making her marry me, for forcing her into a life she does not want. Because I know that if she were to choose for herself, she would obviously choose a life with Gale. Surely, he also knows it.
I shake Katniss' shoulder to rouse her from her sleep, knowing she cannot be comfortable. Katniss sits up, looking up at me drowsily, and I can't bring myself to smile.
"Go on up to bed, Katniss. I'll look after him now." I say.
"Peeta. About what I say yesterday, about running-" she starts, but I just shake my head.
"I know." I tell her, because she won't leave now. Things are too dangerous, and Gale needs her. "Nothing to explain."
"Peeta-" she starts again, and I don't know what she's going to say but I know that I don't want to hear whatever apology or excuse she might be thinking of.
"Just go to bed, okay?" I say, and she leaves me alone with Gale. The snow outside is already picking up, the windows awash with white. I wonder if I should try and apply some snow to Gale's wounds, but think it better to leave it to Prim and her mother. I would likely only make his wounds worse. I sit down in the chair that Katniss had occupied, and find myself staring at Gale. The boy Katniss cannot help but love. My eyes rove over the horrible wounds on his back, the peace on his face from the painkillers. Gradually, that peace in his expression melts away and is replaced by pain.
I don't like watching him suffer like that, no matter who he is, so I get to my feet and start slicing up one of the loaves I had baked. It's still a little warm in the middle, so I butter one of the slices. There's a moan of pain from behind me.
"Katniss," he whispers, his tone laced with pain. I remember the Muttation that had ripped into my calf with its teeth, and wonder how Gale's pain compares. "Katni-" he mutters softly, obviously searching for her. His pause alerts me to him being awake and not finding Katniss, but seeing me stood in the kitchen instead. A long, dangerous pause. "Peeta." He does not say my name softly, but there is venom in his voice. My grip around the bread knife tightens, but I say nothing, and I do not turn around. I understand that part of me hates this boy, loathes him for the simple fact that he had found his way into Katniss' life before me, and had found his way into her heart, when I cannot.
"Where's Katniss?" He asks.
"I sent her to bed, she was exhausted."
"So you can kill me while she's gone?" I almost laugh.
"No. So she can sleep." I mutter. I still don't look at him.
"She kissed me, you know." He mumbles, his voice drowsy. The sleeping potion and painkillers haven't worn off him, and I have a feeling he'll fall back into unconsciousness soon.
"I know, she told me." It takes all of my willpower to keep my voice steady and calm. I place the knife down carefully. Gale doesn't seem to know how to answer, probably never realised that Katniss and I are on speaking terms. I finally turn to look at him, and he's glaring at me. "She kissed me, too." I remind him. "Many times." Gale laughs, but stops and winces in pain.
"That was for the Games." I want to hit him. But I can't, because he is too badly wounded already and Katniss would only disapprove more. I can't stand the idea of him knowing that all of those kisses Katniss and I shared were not for the same reasons she kissed him. Katniss kissed me for survival, rather than just for the sake of kissing me. It still hurts, and Gale is aware of that.
I can see the drowsiness already beginning to take over Gale again, although he seems to be trying to fight it. "She doesn't love you … doesn't … she loves …" If my heart were available to him, I'm sure he'd be glad to scratch at it until I can no longer bear it, and then he would scratch at it some more. That's how it feels, at least.
"I know," I whisper. "She loves you." He's already gone to the world. I fall back into the chair again, feeling numb. I want to crawl into a hole somewhere and allow darkness to swallow me up. It's all too much for one morning. Gale doesn't stir again, and I breathe a sigh of relief when Katniss' mother appears in the kitchen.
"Oh, Peeta! Good morning."
"Morning, Mrs Everdeen." I smile politely, but I want to get out of there.
"Have you been here all night?" She asks, but then notices the bread on the side. "How thoughtful, thank you for the bread."
"It's not problem." Still polite, still wanting to crawl away. Suddenly, Mrs Everdeen is stood in front of me and staring into my face with a stern expression. I'm taken by surprise and step back, unsure what to say.
"Have you slept at all, Peeta?"
"I – well, a little bit. I had a uh, a nightmare. And couldn't get back to sleep." I shrug, as if it were of no importance. Mrs Everdeen tuts and starts rooting through one of her cupboards, pulling out small vials of different liquids. She picks one out and hands it over to me.
"A sleep draught. It should keep the nightmares at bay for some sleep." She's looking at me sympathetically, with a knowing expression. I smile gratefully. Her eyes then flicker to Gale, and she starts on her inspection of his wounds. "Did he wake at all?"
"Once. An hour or so ago, but not since then." She glances up at me again, with questions in her eyes. I'm sure she's not so naïve she doesn't understand all that is going on around her. "He called for Katniss, but fell right back to sleep again." I lie. She nods, and starts her work.
"I can take it from here now, Peeta. Don't worry, I won't tell Katniss you left so early." She smiles up at me and I nod, not wanting to stay in the house for much longer.
"Okay, thank you. And thank you for this." I turn and flee the house, forgetting my coat in my haste to get out of the door and away from the pain. The snow falls heavily and I can barely see ahead of me, the wind lashing at my bare arms.