It's been four days since Peeta has come around. I sit alone in the armchair by the window with my knees to my chest. I want to be alone, but I can't be alone. The only company I have is when Greasy Sae comes to check on me in the morning, and to feed me dinner at night. I start to rehearse my answers for the questions I know will soon come up. Not real, I didn't want to kill you with the tracker jackers. I was trying to kill the careers. Real, we protected each other. That's what we do. Real, the game makers tried to put us against each other. Not real, I brought the berries out as a way for both of us to show we were more than a piece in their games. Then I start to think of the questions he is really going to want answers too. We were engaged, Real or not real? There was a baby. Our baby-Real or not real? You love me. Real or not real? I shutter at the thought of telling him those answers because he isn't going to understand. I'll have to re-live the games. On the fifth day, midday Peeta finally shows up.
"Look, I know you don't want to answer my questions. You have to though. You have-"
"I will" I say looking into his pleading eyes. "We need to do this slowly. One question, a couple at a time please. The answers are going to bring back horrid places." He shakes his head in an understanding way.
I turn from the sink in the kitchen I was leaning on, and walk to a bookshelf. I thumb through the books and I finally find it. The book we worked on together. I hand it to him.
"We can start with this." I say. "It's somewhere to start, and might be able to give you answers that I can't put into words." I give him a half smile, and he goes to sit down in the chair next to the window. I sit down on the couch and wait. After a while, Peeta looks up and asks "Whose book did this family belong too?" Simple question. "Mine, it was my father's. Then after our first games, you and I made it ours. You'd draw, I'd write. It helped us some." He looks through more and more pages. Next question. "Who is the girl I dream about? I've drawn her in here, more than once." I look over at what he speaks of. Rue. I breathe deeply before starting. He looks at me, clearly upset he even asked. My facial expression must say it all. "That's.. That's Rue. She was a victim of the first games." I start seeing her and close my eyes tightly, then open. "She was from District 11, small but quick. My ally." He nods and places his hand on top of mine. The old me would've pulled away quickly, but it's the most contact we've made since his return. It's comforting. Tears slowly stream down my face, I feel them. He stands up.
"I didn't mean to make you cry." Cry. I feel weak and scream at him.
"YOU SHOULD REMEMBER HER! SHE KEPT ME ALIVE, SHE WAS ON MY SIDE WHEN YOU WEREN'T! DON'T EVER TOUCH ME. I AM NOT WEAK!"
And just like that he is gone. He leaves without another word, leaving the book open to a portrait of her. I pick it up and the tears flow more violently. I begin to curse and throw the book across the room. I find peace in a closet. The pants are in front of me, and I in the corner. I'm still crying, but with no harsh breaths. Time has passed quite suddenly. I hear footsteps downstairs and then a light slam of a door. Greasy Sae. Then another pair of footsteps begin. I cower into my corner, the footsteps become louder and heavier.
Of course. Who else could it be?
"Katniss.." I hear from outside of my door. "Katniss, I know. I remember Rue. I remember she kept you alive when I couldn't. Something to fight for, I'm sorry. You need to help me.." I hear him take a seat outside of my door. "And I need to help you. So I am not leaving until you come out!" I sigh and let the darkness overcome my heavy eyelids. I see visions of Rue and the whole death play out in front of me. It happens over and over and over again. The sleep I had fallen into is broken. My screams shatter the serenity. I am kicking and screaming, louder and more violently than I remember ever doing. In the front of the closet is a figure. The figure of a person I forgot was still in the house with me. Peeta starts shaking me. I punch his jaw accidentally, but he refuses to stop until he gets me calm. I finally conclude it was just another nightmare. It was another horror of the night. My tears start to flow. Peeta says nothing, but sits right down next to me. Once the crying subsides, he is able to help me down the stairs and serves me a bowl of soup. He brings the book, and sits down across from me. Silence becomes present. He finally pushes the book towards me. "It hurts us both. We need each other right now. I clearly need you more then you need me. Together can we please start working on this book though? It's going to help- both of us." I nod in agreement because just like he- I need closure and an outlet. He bakes, I normally hunt. Hunting isn't a good choice right now, so the book will suffice. He smiles his schoolboy smile. In that moment I remember Haymitch's words. I could live a hundred lifetimes and still not deserve him.