16
Peeta's hatchet thunked into Marvel's shoulder. Marvel startled with wide eyes, dropped his dagger, and fell to the ground.
Prim's scream died on her lips.
"You made me miss!" Peeta shouted at her, but from the sweat on his brow and the tears in his eyes, Prim could tell his shout came from fear, not anger. "Now, I have to…" He groaned.
Now he had to finish the job.
Marvel whimpered on the ground, his free hand reaching for the hatchet, but not strong enough to pull it out. Blood covered the left side of his body. Prim stared with her mouth opened. A spear lay on the ground, but not near enough for Marvel to grasp it
"We have to hurry." Peeta strode toward Marvel. "Someone will have heard your scream, Prim."
What was he going to do? She stumbled after him. "Wait…wait." She'd screamed No! because she didn't want Peeta to kill Marvel. She didn't want anyone to die and that was completely unfair of her. She couldn't ask Peeta to hold to the same decisions she made, not to kill anyone.
He said he'd even kill Rue if he had to, to keep Prim safe. Now she just made this kill harder for him. But as he reached Marvel, she knew she couldn't let him finish the job. She couldn't let Peeta turn into a monster.
Peeta hovered a good three feet away from Marvel. He kicked aside the dropped dagger and the spear, then scanned the rest of Marvel's outfit. "I think he's unarmed."
Marvel was in his own world of pain. His wild eyes darted between the two of them. "Please…"
Please what? Leave? Save him? Kill him quickly?
Prim couldn't handle it. She ran toward him and fell to her knees. A sob burst from her throat. The boy was hurting. Hurting bad. "Peeta…help me. Get the bandages from the backpack."
"What? No! Prim, we can't…"
She didn't argue. If Peeta wanted to kill Marvel, he'd have to wrestle Prim away from his wounded body to do it. Mom trained Prim to be a healer and, if she wouldn't kill in the games…then she'd do the opposite. She'd heal.
The hatchet wasn't too deep. His collarbone stopped it from doing any real damage. "Peeta, give me your knife and get me one roll of the bandages."
He did as she asked, but said under his breath, "I don't think this is wise, Prim. We should get out of here, let him take care of himself."
Why didn't Peeta get it? Marvel was wounded and needed help. That's what people did, they helped each other, Hunger Games or not. "You can go if you want to. But leave me the bandages."
She cut Marvel's jacket from the collar to the hatchet blade and peeled it back to reveal the full wound. Already, the skin swelled.
Peeta rubbed a hand down his face, huffed out a sigh, and then patted down Marvel's body. "I don't think he has any more weapons. Be on alert, though Prim. He's still got a good arm." He set the roll of bandages on a rock next to her. "I'll fill our water bottle."
He was staying. He wasn't going to desert her, even though she was currently putting them in danger. He really did love Katniss if he was willing to let Prim save an enemy.
Marvel's eyes were squeezed tight shut and he trembled. "Get it out. Get it out." His free hand clenched and unclenched, then pounded the dirt. "Get it out!"
Prim laid a hand on his forehead. "Shhh…I will. Just try to be calm." If only she had some valerian flowers to help him with the pain and to put him to sleep…or catnip leaves to slow the bleeding. "Peeta, can you find me some moss?"
It took her an hour. Peeta stood watch while Prim pressured the wound around the hatchet with moss and with some of Marvel's shirt. It staunched the flow rather well. When she finally pulled the hatchet blade from his shoulder muscle, Marvel arched his back and groaned from deep in his throat. Then she bandaged it as best she could with one of the bandages from the backpack. Now, though, he lay staring off toward the river with glassy eyes.
Prim had seen this look before. Pain shock. But she'd treated him before he lost too much blood. He should be okay. She covered him in his own coat. "If you can, try to let yourself sleep."
Peeta crouched over the river, the water bottle in both hands. She approached him, but he didn't look up. "So now what?"
"What do you mean?"
He looked at her with hollow eyes. "Can we leave him now? Can we move on?"
Prim's throat closed. "Why…why can't he join us?" It was a stupid question. She'd seen Marvel during training—throwing spears into the heart of every dummy. She could almost hear the Capitol viewers whispering from their sides of the TV screens, "She's going to die soon. Marvel will stab her in the back, the little fool."
"He's a ruthless Career who just tried to kill us."
"Why don't you leave, Peeta?" She didn't want him to go away, not at all. She liked his comforting presence and his protection. But she couldn't ask him to make the same choices as she was. She couldn't ask him to let everyone live. This was his open door, he didn't need to feel bad for leaving her, she was putting him in danger. "I don't mind. I want you to win, Peeta. If you stay with me, I'll only make it harder for you. You can head toward the lake if you want. Take the bread, too."
He turned toward her and looked into her face for a long moment. Then he pulled her into a hug. "I'm not going to leave you, Prim."
"Don't think about Katniss," she mumbled into his coat. "She won't blame you for leaving me." Yes she will, but don't admit it. "Don't stay here just because of her."
He chuckled and leaned back, taking a sip of water. "It's not just because of Katniss, Prim. I want to protect you and help you…for your sake, too. I'm not so one-track-minded."
"So you're really going to stay with me? Even if I keep taking care of Marvel?"
"All the way to the end, Prim."
.
.
To be continued...
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How would you live if you knew the day you'd die? Parvin Blackwater believes she has wasted her life. At only seventeen, she has one year left according to the Clock by her bedside. In a last-ditch effort to make a difference, she tries to rescue Radicals from the government's crooked justice system. But when the authorities find out about her illegal activity, they cast her through the Wall - her people's death sentence. What she finds on the other side about the world, about eternity, and about herself changes Parvin forever and might just save her people. But her clock is running out.