don't wanna live, I dont wanna breathe
'Les I feel You next to me
You take the pain I feel
Waking up to You never felt so real
I don't wanna sleep, I don't wanna dream
'Cause my dreams don't comfort me
The way You make me feel
Waking up to You never felt so real
****"Comatose" by Skillet
_
The first six months were the hardest. Coming back to District Twelve and seeing the pieces of my former life wasn't something that I was prepared for. Everything was gone that made it home. Bitter ashes, heaps of rubble, and the dead lying where they fell that day…these things broke the fragile barriers that I had managed to erect around what was left of my sanity. It wasn't the quick tearing pain that slashes and cuts and then is over. It's the dull throbbing of a tooth ache or a shard of glass embedded deep and the removal is as painful as the injury. Some days, I managed to hold on by clinging to my routines and distractions. Other days, the bad days, I sank into the inky black of madness and was lost. The coming down was the hardest because I never knew what I might find. Broken dishes, overturned furniture, and nightmares burning on a canvas; that is what I hoped for. Discovering injuries to myself that I didn't remember inflicting, chained to a pipe or tied to a chair; those were less desirable but acceptable. Seeing a new bruise or dark shadows under her eyes, that tight worried scowl that puckered her forehead, gray eyes dimmed by a haze of fear…those were the unbearable times. They made me wish that I had stayed in the Capital. It made me wish that Snow had been merciful just once in his miserable life and killed me when he had the chance.
The first one happened just after the primroses were planted next to the house. We were learning how to be comfortable again. She had begun to show an interest in life and I had put the big pieces of myself in place. We made tentative efforts to get a routine in place—eat breakfast, have a conversation, make plans. It became our habit to spend time together just talking—mostly me talking while she watched the fire crackling in the grate or tore a cheese bun into tiny pieces before polishing it off. I spent the day in town delivering bread and catching up on the rebuilding progress. Katniss seldom ventured that way so I usually made it a point to share what items that I thought might pique her interest. I was recounting the humorous story of the day Haymitch's geese had been delivered when a low laugh interrupted me. I glanced up and felt a slow grin bloom on my face at the wide smile that she was wearing. It had been so long since I saw that expression on her face that I stopped mesmerized by the sight before me. The look she shot me was almost fond and she quipped, "You should apply for the position of town crier, Peeta. I swear you have talked to everybody in the District. How do you do it? You remember every conversation and piece of gossip that somebody tells you. You must be part jabberjay. That's the only explanation." She laughed again and turned her attention back to the muffin in her hands. But by then it was too late. I was already gone.
The word echoed in my ears, my mind caught in a whirlwind as the abyss swallowed me whole. These were the worst ones. The times that I could feel the ground heaving beneath my feet and watch the cracks splinter my reason were the ones I feared most. Jabberjay. Why did she have to say that? The phantom smell of bloody roses engulfed me and the white pulled me down. I fought it as hard as I could, clawing and fighting for any shred of lucidity but it was too strong and I had no defense. I was lost.
Portia and my prep team had been there when I woke up. Portia tried to act as if there was nothing wrong but the tightness in her smile and around her eyes gave the game away. I asked for Katniss as soon as I could untangle my tongue. She gave me a weak smile. "She's fine, Peeta. You'll be told everything you need to know but we have to get you cleaned up. You can't talk to Caesar unless you look your best." I demanded to see Katniss but Portia held firm. Rather than waste precious time insisting on answers that she clearly wasn't prepared to give, I let her work her magic Somehow, she erased all traces of the Quell arena. I was as polished and refined as a fine gem from District One. She patted my shoulder gently and stood aside as the Peacekeepers entered to escort me to the stage, or so I thought.
My first indication that something had gone drastically wrong was the smell. The warm, thick and faintly metallic odor of blood mixed with the cloying sweetness of roses surrounded me. I reflexively gagged at the combination but bit the inside of my cheek to stop it from becoming a full-fledged outbreak of nausea. His eyes were frigid as they bore into mine. He waved toward an empty chair which I took and then he studied me over steepled fingers. "Welcome back to the Capital, Peeta. I am so pleased that you could join us." I couldn't think of a suitable reply so I merely nodded and waited for him to continue. "You probably have many questions which I will be glad to answer but I require your assistance with a small matter first"
"Where is Katniss?" I questioned. "Can I see her? Is she okay?"
His lips curled into a tight smile and he shook his head. "All in good time, Mr. Mellark, all in good time. Right now, we need to discuss our official position. It is the first time in our history that there is no crowned Victor. Miss Everdeen and her compatriots managed to throw everything into chaos. You will help me to restore order and bring those who seek to destroy the peace that we have worked so hard for to heel. Miss Everdeen will be given the opportunity to regain our trust and esteem. Are you prepared to do your duty, Peeta, or will persuasion be required? Don't disappoint me. My patience is stretched as it is."
"I won't agree to anything until I know that Katniss is okay. Where is she? What happened to her?" I demand. I didn't realize that action was my first mistake. There would be many more in the days and weeks to come.
His eyes seemed to ignite. I had heard tales that Snow was little more than a thug cleverly hidden under a guise of carefully constructed refinement and style. I now found myself face to face with the proof of that belief. His fingers curled talon like around the armrests of the chair he so carelessly occupied. The smile that quirked his puffy lips could charitably be called pitying. He gave an amused shake of his head and announced, "I think that you will fulfill our every request. You will do so happily. You, Mr. Mellark, will be our jabberjay. The Rebels have your precious Katniss. They have named her the Mockingjay. She is the face of their pitiful band. It is common knowledge that a mockingjay wouldn't exist without the jabberjay that gave it life. We are of the mind that this situation is the same. Without you, she will fall apart. You will smile when I say smile, you will read the lines that we prepare for you, and you will end this insignificant rebellion before it tears Panem apart. Should you fail, everything and everyone that you hold dear will cease to exist. That includes your precious Katniss. Think carefully, Peeta. Should you refuse, we will be forced to persuade you. That would be most unfortunate."
I wanted to refuse. I wanted to tell him to go to hell. The threats that he was more than capable of carrying froze my tongue. I agreed to the first interview and then the second. When those failed to quell the uprising, he made good on his promise. He took me to pieces and then ground me to dust.
She looked at me through wide, startled eyes. My hands had clamped down tightly on the back of a chair, the wood creaking in protest. I felt my legs tremble as I fought to remain upright. My lips broke open and bled as my teeth tore into them. She moved on silent feet and carefully placed a hand on my shoulder. I flinched away from her touch and closed my eyes tightly as the images continued to consume me. They had succeeded in remaking me into a caricature of my former self. I was a puppet still dancing to their tune. My mind was no longer my own. Even dead and buried, Snow owned a part of me.
Tears rolled hot and fast down my face mixing with my blood and sweat. Her fingers tightened and I forced my eyes up to meet her determined ones. "Come back to me, Peeta. This isn't real. What you're remembering isn't real. Don't leave me here." She whispered her wants in a calm steady voice. Her arms quivered in time with the tremors that shook me. "Stay with me, Peeta. Please." That request spoken in her voice reached me when nothing else could. I closed my eyes and inhaled sharply as the images receded. That pounding voice that echoed within the shattered remains of my rational mind gradually quieted. My fingers intertwined with hers and our eyes met and held. She smiled timidly and tightened her grip until it was the only thing real in the world. It steadied me and brought me back. I couldn't speak as my tongue was knotted and thick. I struggled to push the word out but the barrier held true. She bit her lip, maintaining her firm grip on my hand. She gave it a reassuring squeeze and then spoke the word that I couldn't say but wanted to with all my heart. "Always, Peeta. Never forget that. Always."
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The most serious one happened about four months after my return to the place of my birth. I had made my way throughout the District during my morning deliveries. The few who had returned were as grateful to receive the fresh bread and rolls as I was to give them. Aware of the attitudes regarding charity, I made trades and bargained for services in exchange for loaves and pastries that I labored over nightly. I went wherever my goods were needed but there were a few places that I avoided at all costs. I wasn't ready yet to acknowledge that everything I knew, every thread of my past had been burned away. The day that I decided to face my demons was the day I almost lost everything I had managed to salvage.
I had seldom if ever been as nervous as I was the morning I decided it was time to view the bakery. I approached her hesitantly and could barely force the words past the sudden lump in my throat. "Will you go somewhere with me? I don't want to do this alone and I'd feel better if you were there." She eyed me curiously but nodded and pulled on her boots and father's old hunting jacket. Climbing to her feet, she waited patiently as I tied and then double knotted my laces, gathering my courage in this simple act. She smiled reassuringly and together we made our way into town. The main square had been mostly cleared but heaps of debris still littered the side streets. I stopped with my heart in my throat and she paused with me. She threaded her fingers through mine and pulled me closer until our breath intermingled and our noses almost touched. She kissed me softly and whispered, "Whenever you're ready. There's no rush. We can take all the time you need." I smiled gratefully and draped my free arm about her shoulders, pulling her more tightly against me. I buried my face in the curve of her neck and dropped a small kiss to the pulse point fluttering there.
"I love you," I breathed the vow onto her skin, hoping that the truth of that statement would soak into her very flesh and bones. "I couldn't do this without you. I need for you to know that."
"It's what we do, Peeta." She whispered back. Her fingers tangled into the curls at my nape. She pulled my face upward and pressed her forehead to mine. "We protect each other. We help each other. I won't leave you. You're not alone. Do you hear me? Never again." She kissed me gently, her eyes piercing and bright. "You're not alone."
We pulled apart reluctantly and made our way forward. As each familiar landmark revealed itself, I felt my chest tighten. My steps faltered as the bakery came into view. There was little remaining of my childhood home. The blast had taken out the living quarters and most of the shop. The large brick oven was mostly intact with the smashed pieces of the roof resting haphazardly against it. One plate glass window was still partially in the frame. The flowing script, "lark" was barely visible. I felt the first stab of agony lance through me. I had painted that sign with my father's approval. My mother had wanted to hire someone, callously remarking that my talent wasn't sufficient to grace the front of the bakery. My father, who rarely denied my mother anything, had firmly retorted that my efforts would be more than satisfactory. I worked harder and more diligently on that sign than any other picture or piece of artwork before. The finished product had been a fancy scroll with curves and whirls usually found only on high end boutiques in the Capital. My mother had grudgingly commended my efforts and my father had beamed proudly. It was one of my best memories of my deceased family.
All of that was gone. Lost in a haze of fire and smoke. Everything swept aside in a burst of white. I dropped her hand and moved toward the place where the front door once stood. I felt tears gather and blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear my vision. My breath came in short bursts as a sob threatened to tear free. I heard her call out my name and for once her steps were loud and clumsy as she clattered across the loose stones moving rapidly in my direction. It hit me with the force of a bomb dropping. One moment, I was standing in the broken ruins; the next strapped down in an icy frigid room watching her release the arrow that detonated my yesterdays and doomed my tomorrows to bleakness.
After a while, the tapes played continuously. My nerves and muscles were in constant agony as they injected a steady stream of venom into my veins. Her name became a curse upon my lips. I watched her standing in the wreckage calmly announcing that no one was left to hear my pleas. Everything that I cared about was gone. She was covered in the bakery's dust and my family's blood. In that moment, I truly knew what hate was. More than the tape of her kissing Gale, this one tore my heart apart. I had loved her. I had been willing to die so that she might live and thrive. In repayment, she had taken everything from me and left me alone. She had hurt me in every possible way and then bragged about it for the whole world to see. No one left to hear me. I would make her pay. I would have my revenge. Her blood was the only thing that would give me peace.
I moved without thinking. My hands of their own volition reached for her throat. She was agile enough to avoid my grasp and backed hurriedly away. She couldn't move quickly enough to outrun my accusations as they came pouring out of me in a toxic flood. "Bitch, you came here to gloat, didn't you?" My voice dropped to a low growl, hate and loathing making the words sharp and cutting. "You dirty little slut. Did you and that bastard that you fucked out in the woods laugh while my family burned?" She shook her head and watched me carefully as she continued to elude my attempts to reach her. "Don't lie. You're not good at it. I know that you killed them. You couldn't kill me. You were forced to pretend that you loved me. You and I both know that Hawthorne was waiting in the wings the whole time. Did you plan it between the two of you? Poor pitiful Peeta. String him along and play with his heart. You used me, mutt. You played me for a fool in front of the entire country. "
I lunged for her again, losing my footing on the scree and gravel that dotted the sidewalk. She darted away from me, her eyes never straying from my face. "Peeta, you're not making sense. I didn't kill your family. I didn't blow up the bakery. The Capital did. They are responsible for all of this. They want to take you from me. Please don't let them." I shook my head, the surety of her guilt setting my brain on fire. I would make her pay. She wouldn't get away with it. "Peeta, think about it. I was practically comatose after leaving the Arena. I had lost a lot of blood from Johanna cutting my tracker out. I was barely lucid. They bombed the district right after the dome blew. I wasn't even here. I would never hurt you that way, Peeta. I love you." She reached a hand beseechingly in my direction.
"You lie," I hiss menacingly. "I know what you did. You are nothing. You're a mutt and a whore. It makes me sick to look at you." Pounding feet rush toward us and rough hands grab my shoulders and wrestle me to the ground. I scream and flail as I try to free myself. She hunkers down in the dirt with her head in her hands. Thom finally manages to secure my hands and feet with Haymitch's help. My eyes seek her out, my disgust and revulsion evident in my gaze. "Keep that mutt away from me. I'll break her damned neck. I should have done it in Thirteen when I had the chance."
"Shut your mouth, boy!" Haymitch thunders. "Your fucked up head is playing tricks on you. The girl doesn't deserve this. She's been wrong about a lot of things but she's innocent this time. You need to get hold of yourself. She might not forgive you."
Katniss had edged closer during our exchange and she pinned Haymitch with one of her trademark scowls. "He doesn't know what he is saying. Leave him alone." She eyed me hesitantly. "I know you don't believe me now, Peeta, but I love you. I would never take your family from you. I'll be waiting for you when you're better." She stepped away and my gaze followed her as Haymitch and Thom grasped my arms. She turned back briefly and gave me a tiny smile. Something in her gaze broke through the walls of grief and madness that surrounds me. My weeping gains a sigh from Thom and a disgruntled huff from Haymitch.
"Will she forgive me?" I mutter quietly. "How could I say those horrible things to her? I didn't mean them, Haymitch. Will you tell her that? I love her. I didn't…" My voice broke and I gulp down the tangled knot of emotions that threaten to overwhelm me. She would never allow me to get close to her again and I couldn't find it within my heart to blame her. I was forever destined to be alone. Alone. That word cut me more deeply than any hijacked memory ever could.
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The most painful didn't happen in District Twelve but in a medical bay in District Thirteen. Groggy and disoriented, my eyes opened to a pale yellow light. I tried to move but was paralyzed. My arms and legs refused to work. My eyes dart back and forth in an attempt to locate anything familiar. There was color here. The shock of that discovery sent my brain into chaos. Where was the white? Was this a new game for Snow's sadistic pleasure? What other piece of me could they cut away?
I caught a glimpse of Johanna lying broken and bleeding on a gurney with doctors swarming around her. I attempted to call out her name but my tongue was just as frozen as my limbs. I could only watch in horror as wires were attached to her torso and head. The machines immediately began shrieking and lights flashed. I hurriedly slammed my lids closed against them. It was too much. The wavering, jerking line raced in time with her racing heart and faltering breathing. A mask was shoved over her mouth and nose and a nurse cranked a knob situated over her bed. A needle was pressed into the tube secured at her wrist and the line steadied. I felt a wave of relief rush through me. She would live.
Feeling in the form of a numb tingling swept through me and I gritted my teeth against the pain that fired my nerves. I raised my head, though I gasped with the effort. It felt as though I had been dipped in fire. The flames race through my veins and scorch my muscles. They turn to water, limp and lifeless. Gritting my teeth, I force myself to sit up and scoot to the edge of the bed. Once my feet rested firmly on the floor, I closed my eyes and dropped my chin into my chest. I had yet to reason out why the doctors had let me go so long without igniting the blue flames that consumed me. The cobalt forks were as familiar to me as breathing. Their absence had the dual effect of both reprieve and terror. The torture had become my reality. If he was holding back, that meant that he had something far more insidious in mind for our next encounter. I never thought that I would pray to be beaten, but those pleas come forth in breathy whispers and mumbled appeals
Voices outside the door catch my attention and I freeze as I listen carefully to discern why one of them sounded so familiar. They come in one following the other. My eyes skip over the man. His ragged hair and pallid skin suggest a long illness or a brief period of abstinence. The second form caught and held my gaze. Silver eyes brightened as they met my own. A dark coil of hair fell to thin shoulders. An uncertain smile curls up thin, chapped lips. I push the doctors out of my way and leap to my feet. Desperation and an unknown desire twists my gut. Her voice fills the silence as she repeats my name in a constant refrain. I extend my arms out to her and she raises hers in response. The now familiar howl screams for me to end it. The ebony ribbons that wrap my mind in a fog unfurl before the white hot rage engulfs me. My hands bypass her embrace and curl around her throat. Her eyes widen and for the first time I see fear in their depths. She, who had never given in nor given up, stares at me in disbelief as my hands choke the life from her body. "You love me," she gasps, fingers prying desperately at my encircling grip. "You love me."
"You're a mutt." I grate out and lean into my grasp as I tighten my hold. "You don't deserve to live." Her mouth moves but the words didn't come. Purple blotches bloom on her throat and feather her chin. The choking fades to wheezing and her dim eyes roll back until only the whites can be seen. I smile knowing that soon it will be over. I never see the object that connects with the back of my head. My last memory is of her falling to the ground as I feel myself dropping. My last prayer is that she is breathing her last. Maybe then, I can finally be left alone.
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The bakery will open tomorrow. I stand on the newly finished sidewalk and look up at the freshly painted walls and crisply pressed awning that fronts the main entrance. The dark blue walls and cream trim is a pleasant change from the dull dingy whitewash that my mother insisted on. The blue awning with its snowy edging adds a touch of simple elegance that I appreciate. My mouth curls into a grin at the sign which graces the big picture window. "Mellark's Bakery" is written in a rolling script. Its curves and whirls are traced in white that mirror the awning. Small bistro tables with matching chairs fill up the patio. The outdoor dining area had been a pet project of my father's. He never got around to actually implementing it. When I made the decision to rebuild the bakery, I had wracked my memory for every detail that my father had ever mentioned in passing. If the bakery was going to be redone, it would be according to my father's plans and wishes.
Katniss loops her arm around my waist and puts her chin on my shoulder. I flick an amused glance in her direction but her eyes are fixed on the awning. "It's pretty," she remarks. "It looks festive." Her hand splays on my stomach and she pats me absently. "You should be proud of yourself, Peeta. Your father would have loved it." She presses herself against my back and she drops a kiss onto my shoulder. "I love you. Thank you for letting me be a part of this."
I lace her fingers through mine and rest my cheek against her hair. "You're the only person that I want with me. I couldn't have done this without you, Katniss. This is as much yours as it is mine." My eyes touch on the cornerstone. That had been Katniss' contribution to the design. She had spoken with Thom one afternoon when I thought she was in the woods. The rubble had been cleared and the old brick oven demolished. Once the ground had been prepared, the foundation had been placed and the first stones set. The cornerstone had been etched with the names of my family along with the date they died. She had included a quote which she had pored over for hours before choosing. Below my brother Seth's name was written: "Family is not an important thing, it's everything." As I looked at the face of the woman who is for all intents and purposes my family, my heart skips a few beats. "Thank you," I whisper and press my lips to her temple. She huffs out a laugh and then turns once more to examine the proud façade.
I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow, next week, or next year. I know that the past few years have been bearable only because of the girl standing with me now. What we lost and sacrificed can't be calculated. It's true worth will never be known. The Hunger Games is a black hole that destroyed everything it touched. Innocence and hope were the first to go but they were not lost, merely misplaced. While I still have bad days when all I can see are misery and despair, there is one thing that keeps me going. It is my candle when everything else falls to black. Katniss Everdeen didn't always love me. I didn't always love her. Despite that, we found each other during the darkest days. We helped and protected each other just like we always have. We survived.
The love came later. Pain was something that I had come to accept as a foregone conclusion. It took finding my way back to Katniss to realize that in the pain, there is life. You can't have light without shadow. You can't have love without hate or pleasure without pain. The gray area between those extremes is where we exist, where we survive. She who was the consummate survivor is my greatest teacher in learning to live again. She is my hope that good will always follow no matter how bad it gets. She tells me that we're strong enough to face whatever comes. Together, we can do anything. We can be happy. We can love. That is the greatest gift I could hope for.
FINIS ALONE IS A FIVE LETTER WORD FOR PAIN
THANK YOU FOR READING.
SALANDERJADE