Sorry for the delay in updating. I'm in the middle of certifying students for graduation, advising students for the upcoming summer term, and swamped planning my husband's big birthday bash this weekend. Plus I was out of town without my laptop this weekend. But I promise I'll update sooner than before! Thanks for your patience. And as always, thanks for the reviews! I love advice, questions, and ideas.
That night we slept in the same bed but miles apart. I think I hurt Peeta's feelings with my question because he was silent for the most part and didn't sleep as close to me. Not that I wanted him to. I just felt very confused about everything. I didn't want to rush into anything and yet I had. We were two broken people faking a normal life; but there was little normalcy in our lives. I had been the reluctant face of the rebellion and Peeta had been the unfortunate, tortured victim of the Capitol. My choices led to the deaths of hundreds and vicious nightmares while Peeta struggled with reality and the polar opposites of love and hate for me. How could we expect to function normally?
I didn't sleep much of the night; I just laid there and thought about everything. When I began to doze off, after what felt like several hours of listening to Peeta's shallow breathing, my dreams were vivid and violent. I was in District 2 but instead of what I had done there, I was an active part in destroying the entire area; bombing it like the Capitol had done to twelve. I saw home burn, people burn, children burn. I saw Prim burning as she tried to save the people. But I wasn't even trying to help her, I was simply torturing her more. I woke from the sound of my own voice screaming in the early morning. I reached out for Peeta but he was already out of the bed, though his spot was still warm.
He threw open the bathroom door and looked at me, worried. "Are you okay?" He said as he came and sat by me on the edge of the bed. I noticed that he was shirtless. I looked away and nodded. "Yeah, it was just a nightmare," I said as I pulled the blanket up to my chin. He looked at me with a concerned look on his face and after a few minutes of staring at me stood up to finish getting ready. Within ten minutes he was back near my face, this time hunching down to give me a kiss on my cheek. "I'll be home late. I'm teaching a class. Get some sleep."
As he left the room and closed the door behind him I could hear his loud footsteps down the stairs, through the home and out the front door. The further away he became the strong the pit in my stomach became.
I eventually made my way out of the bed, although with a good amount of difficulty, and hobbled downstairs. It was still dark outside, but the sky was becoming a light grey, reflecting the imminent approach of the sun. I rested with my leg stretched out on the couch and my head resting against a pillow I had propped up. Buttercup climbed up near my head and stared at me. "What do you want, you dumb cat?" I shot at him. He hissed at me and I turned onto my side, facing the back couch.
There was a crash through the door and several large men dressed in Peacekeeper uniforms burst in, guns at the ready. Buttercup hissed at them but they quickly shot him. As I tried to get up with my broken ankle, two of the men grabbed me while the third held me at gunpoint. They were yelling at me but due to the masks they were wearing they were incomprehensible. As I became more and more confused I grew panicked until one of them struck me over the head with the butt of his gun, knocking me out.
When I came to I was strapped to a board in a dimly lit room. I noticed a figure approach me with a large syringe in their hand. I noticed it was a woman. As I searched her face in the dark I noticed it was my mother. But it wasn't. Her hair was wild and the makeup on her face was loud and garish. Her eyes were dark and manic and she struck me strongly as I began to move. She painfully shoved the needle in my arm and the stinging was immense. My vision became blurry but I was not knocked out. I began having shiny hallucinations. Instead of volunteering for Prim I let her go into the arena where she was brutally murdered by Peeta. When he came home following the games he came after me and my mother to try and kill us as well.
As the hallucinations became more intense and grotesque with the murders and killings Peeta performed for Snow I slowly passed out. When I came to again I was strapped to the board and on my back. As my mother approached me again with the syringe and crazed look in her eye I began to scream. She put her hand over my mouth to muffle my voice, but I bit down on her hand and continued screaming when she pulled it back. "OW!" I heard Haymitch say.
I turned and noticed I was on my couch. Haymitch was sitting on the ground next to me looking at his bleeding hand. His eyes shot up at me, "I hope you're happy, Sweetheart!" I looked at the ground and mumbled the words "I'm sorry." To which he simply retorted, "What the hell were you screaming about any way? Geez, girl! I could hear you in my house, hell, you probably woke up the entire neighborhood!" It was then that I noticed that the lights in my house were on and that the sun had just barely risen.
"I was having a nightmare," I mumbled, ashamed by my childish excuse. Haymitch had never dealt with me when I had nightmares. Did he even realize I had them? Of course, he had to. He had them too. Why else did he sleep with a knife and drink so heavily.
"Do you have any bandages so I could wrap this up?" I nodded and pointed down the hall towards the bathroom. He came back a few minutes later, still looking at his bandaged hand and sitting in the arm chair closest to me. "So you're still having nightmares. Well that's a damn shame. I thought that boy would have just cleared those right up. That the whole 'love conquers all' myth would have helped your sorry butt." I couldn't even think of anything to say back; partially because Haymitch was sober enough to form a slightly intelligent argument, and partially because I was still waking up from my latest nightmare. As I sat there in silence he laughed, "what, did I actually hurt your feelings?" I scowled at him but it wasn't fooling either of us. He simply looked at me and my look melted away. "No. It's just that. You're right." I said, struggling to get the words out.
He sat back and gave me a skeptical look. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear that. What did you say?" "You're right." "One more time?" he egged. "Shut up, Haymitch. You heard it twice in one day." I shot back at him.
"So you're telling me you two have been faking it again? You're good. I mean, I knew about it with the Capitol, but this time…" he trailed off. "It's not like that," I said. "Then how is it? Are you in love? Are you not? It's one or the other, girl." He said brusquely.
"I don't know. Why am I even discussing this with you?" I said aloud, immediately wishing I hadn't. "Like it or not, Katniss, I'm one of the few friends you have that knows both of you. Give me a break," he said defensively. It hurt, but I realized that he was right. I sat back on the couch and slowly began to try and explain what I was thinking. It felt like pulling teeth trying to explain it to anyone, much less Haymitch. But he had gone into mentor mode and was listening intently, almost clinically, as I gave a brief explanation of my fear.
When I finished he leaned forward with his fingers pressed together and against his mouth. "So you're saying you think you aren't really in love, just that your feelings from the games have confused you? God, that's uncomfortable to say and hear." He said, covering his eyes, as to imagine he hadn't said what he just had. "Look," he continued, "whether you like it or not, you're both broken. We're all broken. Did you rush into it? Maybe. But I also know that boy is doing much better because of you. If you don't like him, it's selfish of you to keep stringing him along like-" I cut him off, "I do like him. I just don't want to get confused. I need to know I didn't just stick with him because of habit." "Look Katniss, I'm ending my time as your therapist. This is weird territory for me and frankly, I don't enjoy it. But just know that you are BOTH better off because of each other. If I could have what you have, I'd cherish it. Grab onto it with both hands and not let go. So what if you came together because of the Games. If it's not meant to be, it'll end. While he may be love sick enough to go along with whatever you want, he isn't stupid enough to stay if he's unhappy. If you're happy, why ruin it with your over-analyzing ways? And with that, I'm done. Unless you want to start paying me."
As he walked out the door I considered the incredibly abnormal conversation that had just transpired between me and my former mentor. I shook my head trying to erase the memory and lay back down on the couch. He was right though. If Peeta was unhappy he would leave. And I wasn't unhappy with Peeta. I just didn't want to rush into anything.
I tried to occupy myself by watching TV, but nothing was interesting. I tried to hobble to our garden, but that was a feat on its own. Eventually I found a book in the library and retreated to my spot on the couch. I tried to read but was sidetracked with thoughts of how to take it slowly with Peeta. As I sat there thinking my lack of sleep the night prior caught up with me. I wasn't asleep for long, or at least I didn't think so, but I jerked awake when Buttercup crawled across my lap. The sun was beginning to set and I decided to try and find something to eat.
As I hobbled around the kitchen I found some bread Peeta had made, a few scraps of squirrel, and some greens. I made a sandwich of sorts and sat down at the table. I ate my sandwich slowly and eventually put my plate in the sink, leaving it to be cleaned at another time. I made my way back to the couch and sank down. I turned the TV on again and right away, there was Gale. The look on his face showed undeniable anger. As I turned the volume up it appears there had been an assassination attempt on President Paylor. She was in critical condition and Gale was being interviewed along with several other government people concerning what had happened and what they were going to do to the terrorists. Apparently there were still Capitol loyalists who were slowly growing in numbers and bombing places around the Capitol. As the interviewer went back to Gale he had a hardened, almost spiteful, look on his face when he promised that the terrorists would get their just rewards.
I shuddered at his look and turned the TV off. That wasn't the Gale I knew. But maybe he had changed. I sat there thinking about him. Even though his entire family was intact, Gale still held such contempt for the Capitol. Peeta's entire family was destroyed when the Capitol fire bombed our district and was even tortured at their hands. And yet, he didn't wish harm against them. When we voted on whether or not to continue the Games using children from the Capitol Peeta voted no. And then the memory came back to me quickly. I had voted yes. I had let the same fire that consumes Gale consume me and seek revenge against the Capitol.
As I sat there in the darkness thinking of the fire I shared with Gale versus the calm I felt with Peeta, I couldn't help but feel the pit in my stomach return strongly. How could I imagine my life without Peeta? He helped me come out of my deep depression when he reentered my life. Gale only frustrated me and made me think of Prim, driving me back into my depression. Gale himself was right; I would choose the one I could not survive without. That was Peeta.