me and bestie saw tbosas today and were sufficiently inspired enough to jump back into this universe. i have 3 chapters to upload... and we plan on working on more this week :) enjoy! and don't forget to review 3
PEETA
I can't quite open my eyes, but I can hear something. Someone is talking, talking a lot. I hear the unmistakable sound of Cesar Flickerman laughing. The Games-there must be a TV wherever I am-I know there is something different about them this year, that something has changed, but my head is too heavy with the burden of waking up so the only thing that floods in is a dull throbbing feeling of dread.
My eyes are still too heavy to open, but under my palms I feel scratchy sheets. There's the weight of a blanket across my torso, but my left leg feels tingly; cold and wrong.
"Mom?"
I try to speak but it comes out a strange croak-thinking of my mother makes the dread dive deeper into my brain, but the cause is still out of reach. I try to focus my thoughts on one thing, and the TV is easy to tune into.
"...And once again: Thresh from District 11-with a 9! Rue from District 11 with a 7. And now, our tributes from District 12. Gale Hawthorne with a score of ten…Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire with a score of….eleven! Truly remarkable, I believe thats the highest score of the night, Claudius. Quite remarkable tributes, both volunteers…"
I open my eyes with great difficulty, my stomach a ball of knots as memories pound into my skull. Katniss. My name being called. Gale. My mother. Walking to the Seam. And then…
Slowly, because I know what I'm about to see, I pull the blanket off. My torso, apparently bare, shows signs of the knife-someone must have changed my bandages fairly recently, the stark white gets traced with small red lines as I irritate my stitches for moving for the first time in…how long had I been out? I put that thought aside and continue to take stock of myself. Someone had dressed me in simple brown pants, but that's not whats strange about my legs. Below the thigh on my left side, in place of my leg, there is an empty pant leg. I can't quite comprehend it just then-I can feel something that isn't there, a tingle and a coldness on a lower leg that is gone, an ache in a knee that isn't there.
I should feel something. Horror. Anger. Sadness. But, like everything else since Effie Trinket had called my name, the emotions feel like they're floating just out of my reach. Bouncing off this immeasurable numbness that has taken over in place of any human feelings. I'm hit with a bizarre urge to laugh-if there was any chance of my mother taking me back, any chance of me wanting that, it was gone now. What use was a son with no leg and no honor?
With some effort, I cover myself again before I look around the room. It's a simple cabin, with bare wood walls and a dirt floor. I see a dining table in the middle of the room covered in various medical instruments that make me dizzy if I think too long about their uses. There's a modest kitchen complete with a wood burning stove thats going strong-the fire smells so good that I close my eyes again for a moment, breathing in the scent wishing the safety of it could swallow me whole. I wonder dully if I've been taken prisoner, but something tells me if my attacker had had his way I wouldn't have woken up at all. Someone had changed my bandages, someone had taken care of my leg. Later, when I'm able to look, I will see a neat if not slightly uneven line of stitches along the base of my stump.
"Hello?" I try to call, but my voice is too thin from lack of use. At least it sounds like a word now. As my brain slowly creeps its way out of the fog, I realize I was probably given medicine of some kind to rest-I've never even had a drink before, let alone something strong enough to knock me out. The TV I heard is on the wall opposite my bed-there's also a study looking rocking chair and a basket of some sort of fabric beside it-had someone been watching me? Staying with me? There are no windows, so the TV is my only clue to time-usually the pre-game broadcasts start around 6 in the evening, and this was wrapping up, so it was probably closer to 8:00.
I think, trying to remember. Scores usually happen at the end of the first week, the last day I remember was three days after the Reaping….
Had I been out for four days?
I hear voices outside and settle back into the pillows, closing my eyes until I can only see a sliver of who might be coming in. I clench my fists, bracing myself. I know I cannot run away, but if whoever's on the other side of the door is coming to finish me off, they're not going to have an easy time.
A blonde head with two plaits appears in the doorway, and I desperately wish I was asleep for real.
Primrose Everdeen, twelve years old, moves the medical supplies around on the table with expertise. She sets a bowl of broth down momentarily, mumbling something to herself as she wipes her hands on her apron and approaches my bed.
"Hi." I say, trying to open my eyes more. Prim lets out a sound between a scream and a squawk as her hands fly to her chest.
"Sorry." I start. "I don't know h-" my mouth is not cooperating with my brain, still drugged. I try again. "What's-happ-" I grunt, willing my tongue to work faster. Prim shushes me not unkindly.
"The medicine is to relax your muscles, the tongue is a muscle. It'll wear off soon if you're awake." She gives me a nervous smile. "Do you think you can sit up? Just nod." She adds as she sees me open my mouth. I nod and before I can make my arms move, she's over to me, helping me into a sitting position and adjusting the pillows behind me.
"Thanks." I rasp. I clear my throat. "Thank you." I say, my lips curling into what might pass for a smile.
"I'll go get Miss Sae. She'll explain everything. But lets get you a drink first."
Water has never tasted as good as it does in that moment, I hadn't even realized how dry my throat was. Prim helps me drink. When I look into her eyes, I see worry and pain that have no place in the soul of an eleven year old. As she helps me lie back, I try to think of something to say, something to make her feel better despite the thousands of questions flying around in my head.
"Good-" I clear my throat. "Good score."
Prim studies me for a minute and then smiles as she understands. Her face is a blend of pride and sorrow-a blend not uncommon in Panem.
"You saw, huh? Highest score out of anyone."
There's hope in her voice, hope I desperately want to hold onto too-but for which of the two from 12 I'm not sure of. If Katniss dies in the arena, I will never get to apologize to her, I will never be able to tell her how I wish I could've had the courage to hand her that bread. I will never be able to tell her how incredible her little sister is, or how I wished I had had the courage to talk to her all the times I could've. If Gale dies in the arena, I will spend the rest of my days feeling responsible, the debt of what he gave up in my stead will never be one I can repay regardless of if he comes back; will it be better or worse if he dies? I don't know. No one does, but certainly not the 12-year-old who misses her sister standing in front of me.
"I'll go get Miss Sae." She says again, turning away from me and crossing the cabin quickly. She hesitates in the doorway before looking at me shyly.
"I'm glad you're awake."
My smile is closer to real as she flashes me a grin and heads out the door. My eyes close again and I might even doze, but the sound of footsteps wakes me.
Greasy Sae, the unofficial head of the Hob, stares at me from the doorway.
"Best healer around here was the Everdeen woman." Sae says to me, as if we were in the middle of a conversation. "But her brain went to shit when their man did." She continues, tutting. "I hope she can hold it together for that girl she's got left now, but with Katniss in the Games…"
"She might win." I say, feeling a need to defend this girl who sang the Valley Song on our first day of school. Katniss and her braid, her rare smile I'd only seen from a distance. Sae blows air through her teeth but doesn't respond.
"Anyway, I think we did all right. We couldn't save the leg, as I'm sure you noticed."
I nod, looking away but feeling her eyes on me. I think she's expecting a reaction, and I don't have one. I hear noise and when I look, she produces a contraction that vaguely looks like a leg.
"It should fit, when you're up to it, I'll send one of the boys around to help you get used to it."
I nod again.
"Cress got taken care of."
I must look puzzled because she continues.
"We didn't kill him or nothing. Just gave him a bit of his own medicine back-Hazelle took charge of it, told him not to intervene on behalf of her son. Said the Capitol does a good enough job of killing us with his help."
Sae spits on the floor and clears her throat.
"We weren't sure if you were gonna make it, boy, and I'm thankful you did. The last thing we need around here is more peacekeepers. We sent word to your mother-"
I grunt, annoyed, and I see something like a smile play on Sae's lips.
"Ah. Then I don't have to tell you how that went." I shake my head; I don't need Sae to tell me my mother thinks I've gotten what I deserve.
"A few more days and we'll try out that new leg." She says with a nod, before crossing to me with a small table. She places it beside my bed and then goes to retrieve a bowl of broth and a piece of something that might pass for bread.
"Probably not the caliber you're used to." She says, seeing me eye it. I grunt my thanks and pick it up, frustrated that my limbs move jerkily as the medicine wears off.
"You in pain?" She asks, nodding when I shake my head. "Good. Once you're on your feet again we could use a baker."
"They won't be my feet." I say before I can stop myself. Sae definitely smiles that time.
"You're lucky to be alive."
"Lucky." I repeat, the word feels wrong in my mouth. Sae doesn't respond and watches me dip a bit of the bread into the broth.
"Do they all hate me?" I say after a while, my voice softer and sadder than I would've liked. I feel like a child again, being looked after and tended to. Not that much of either of those things happened in my home growing up, but the helplessness I remember from my childhood flares in my chest. I won't be able to work, not like I used to. If there's even a place for me here, how will I prove I'm worth the trouble?
"A few of the dumber ones do." Sae says simply. "But they know better than to mess with one of mine."
Her words ignite something in me, something small. Something dangerous. Something like hope.
"Why," I say, grunting a little with effort as I pull myself further up in bed. "Are you helping me?"
I study her face as she studies me. Sometimes with older people you can see who they were, and Sae was probably pretty once. Pretty in the way that Katniss is, a beauty clouded by necessary hardness. I notice that, along with the map of lines on her cheeks, she has two around her mouth. Laughter lines.
"The Quarter Quell." She says after a moment, holding my gaze. "The one Abernathy won?"
I nod. "We learned about it in school."
She tuts. "Did you learn the name of the girl who went with him?"
I'm silent. I don't remember.
"Maysilee," She continues, not surprised at my ignorance. "Was my daughter."
It hits me all of sudden, how long seventy four years are. How there have been one hundred and forty eight tributes from District 12. 148 lives left behind-even if they win-and the pieces they left in their wake.
"Abernathy, when he came back-well, it wasn't pretty. Half the district turned against him, the other half put him on a pedestal he didn't want. He expected me to hate him-it's bigger than all of us, anyone with half a brain knows that, and yet…"
She sighs, tying off the suture.
"He wouldn't let me help him. You don't have to either, I suppose. You could leave as soon as you're healed, take some whiskey with you for good measure, waste yourself like he has and let them all be right about you."
I can't say the thought isn't appealing-find those drugs they used on me, fade into nothingness, keep myself as numb as I can, keep the world out.
And yet, my mind cannot let go of the girl with the braid and the highest score the Gamemakers have ever awarded to someone from 12. My heart cannot let go of that dangerous kernel of hope thats now firmly planted inside of me.
"I don't want them to be right." I want to prove I'm worthy of Gale's sacrifice
Sae nods her approval and crosses to me.
"I gotta check that leg for infection."
I don't want her to. Touching what's left of my leg will prove to me the reality of this. Hate flairs through me for Cress Hawthorne, but it fizzles before it even really starts.
A leg for a life, not that bad of a trade on my end.
Sae pulls back the covers and gets to work on my leg. She rubs some sort of ointment on it that takes away tension I didn't even know it was holding. I sigh as the effect hits me.
"Peacekeeper owed me a favor." She explains. I notice now the tin has the distinct mark of being from the Capitol.
"And you cashed it in on me?"
Sae shrugs.
"Consider it an investment, Mr. Mellark."
Her formality surprises me almost as much as her knowing my name does, but I suppose she would by now.
"Peeta." I correct. She looks up at me. "Please, ma'am."
Sae rolls her eyes. "None of that now."
The TV in the background drones on about statistics of past games-I look over in time to see a highlight reel from a few years back; I watch a boy beat another to death with a rock. Sae interrupts my passive horror as she wraps a fresh bandage around my stump.
"Are you staying here, or are you going wherever it is that you thought you were headed to with bits of paper and paint?"
I flush, suddenly embarrassed, waiting for the barrage of insults to be thrown my way, but they don't come.
"Can I…keep the paper and paint?"
"Why couldn't you?"
She does smile that time, and the gravity of my nowhere-ness hits me at once. Even if I had had a choice, I'd headed to the Hob in hopes of finding a place to work for my keep.
"I'll put you to work once you're healed up though." She said, hard again, and I nod.
"I wouldn't want it any other way." I say, meaning it. I've had sixteen years of being told I'm not worth anything, I was done providing any hint of fodder for it.
"It's settled then."
She covers me with the blanket, and I'm struck by the kind of mother she had been.
"I'm sorry about your daughter."
I can't read the look on her face.
"It tore us apart." She says. "My youngest was never the same after that. She moved to town, married that mayor, and died some years after. She never spoke to me again."
Madge Undersee, the only girl I've ever danced with, is the granddaughter of the woman who just saved my life.
"Those Games don't just destroy the kids who play them." Sae says. "However you feel about Hawthorne taking your place, its up to you now to decide how you move forward. To decide if they get to take you down too."
I nod. I wonder fleetingly if this is where I will be when I'm old, helping those who are too lost to find anything but trouble.
"You've got a pot under the bed if you need to go-I'll send someone by in the morning to help you get used to getting around. You'll heal much faster than normal thanks to that gunk." She nods her head at the ointment. Try to get some rest."
"Ok." I say. "Thank you."
It doesn't encompass my gratitude, and I hope beyond hope Sae knows I don't just mean for the chamber pot.
"Could you bring me that bag I had?"
"Feeling artistic?"
"Something like that."
I need to make sure I can still hold a pencil. I need to make sure some small part of me, the part that has always just been for myself, is still there.
If I can't paint, if I can't draw, then I'm nothing. Sae brings the bundle over-it thankfully looks unharmed, especially considering what happened to me.
"Goodnight, Peeta."
I balk. When was the last time anyone had said that to me? Had they ever? The numbness that had overtaken me shatters, and I feel tears start to press behind my eyes. I will them to stay away.
"Goodnight." I say, wobbly.
Sae leaves me without another word. I break as soon as the door to the cabin closes, crying until the medicine or the pain pulls me into sleep.
A pain in my left leg wakes me up, and when I open my eyes in the dark, I'm confused. My room looks different and smells like Earth. The weight of everything snaps into place when I try to wiggle my toes and only those on the right move. I sit up and adjust myself, trying desperately to get comfortable and failing. Giving up, I turn on the lantern beside me. The majority of the room lights up. I wonder to myself who had lived here before and try not to think about if I'm sleeping in a dead man's bed. I spot the soup on my bedside table but I'm not hungry, and it's already cold-it'll keep until morning. I pick up the bundle still resting on the bed close to me, carefully unwrapping my sketchbook, relieved to find it only a little bent. I thumb through my sketches, finding one towards the bottom that I'd hidden. It'd felt too intimate after I'd finished, this sketch of two girls I barely knew, but I study it now.
The smaller one has two plaits, the taller has one. Her hair is darker, and her hand holds her sister's as they swing between them, their books in their other arms. They laugh at each other-a moment between sisters I was lucky enough to witness.
I stare at the sketch of Katniss Everdeen's smile and wonder if anyone will ever bear witness to it again. It's only then, when I glance at the drawing of the sister she gave everything up for, that I feel tears leave my eyes.
I don't understand why I'm the one who was given the second chance at life. I know I will never be loved that way.
Over the next weeks, I relearn. How to walk, how to bake, how to navigate the world half metal and half me. Geo, one of Sae's boys, was the son of the medic who went down after explosions, so he knew a thing or two about amputations. With his help, I start doing meager tasks for Sae around the hob and the cabins out back that she and the rest of us strays live in. I even help them build an outdoor oven, surprising myself with how much I've actually retained. I was too tired after baking my first batch of bread to go to dinner with the rest of them, but I was told my bread was very well received It's frustrating and exhausting work, getting my body to adjust to our new injured state, but by the time the Tributes have entered the arena, I walk to the town square with a crutch and the rest of Sae's boys.
I try to ignore the envy that swells up in my gut as Katniss and Gale kiss. A few girls beside us sigh, as if it's the most romantic thing they've ever seen. As if their joint demises aren't incoming.
"Haven't seen you in school."
I jump, pulled out of my engrossment in the Games. Madge Undersee smiles at me.
"I don't think I'd be welcome." I say simply, keeping the emotion in my voice in check. After that first night, I willed all the pain and hurt away-it's still there, looming over me, but its trapped in a box that I'm pretending I don't see.
"Cress is an idiot."
I feel her eyes on my leg and I'm thankful for the long pants I have on-even if I'm far too hot.
"He's not alone."
I can't look at her, I don't know why she's talking to me.
"Peeta."
When I find her eyes she's close to tears.
"I'm sorry."
I balk.
"For what?"
"For what they've done to you."
I laugh-I can't help it. A few people look back with nasty looks that turn nastier when they see I'm the source of the disruption.
"Sorry." I nod my head at the screen. "I just think what they're doing is far worse."
Madge's eyes go wide, realizing I mean the Capitol. It's bold, sure, to be this outspoken with Peacekeepers literal feet away from us, but I find it hard to care.
What else could they possibly take away from me?
"Enough, now."
Sae has appeared from the crowd, I swear she has a sixth sense for nonsense. I watch the old woman freeze when she sees who I'm talking to. Madge smiles politely at her, and I realize she has no idea who Sae is.
The sadness I keep locked away flairs up, aching for this woman who has given everything and lost twice as much.
"Come, Madge." Mayor Undersee says, shooting the pair of us a look before pulling his daughter into the safety of the crowd, away from my disruptions and the secrets he's kept.
I'm in bed two weeks later, celebrating the quiet victory of getting my prosthesis off on my own, as the TV the Capitol provided after my injury was declared severe enough to warrant an exception drones on per usual. A few days ago it was announced that there could be two victors if they were from the same district, and the mood around the seam had been borderline cheery. Both of them could come home, all they had to do was take out the few that remained. They were a talented team, Katniss and Gale-all that illegal hunting together was finally paying off. Katniss stayed stoic, only breaking after the girl from 11 she had befriended died. I cried with her, alone in my cabin, knowing without knowing that Rue reminded her of Prim. Gale on the other hand…Caesar Flickerman told us with barely contained glee every chance he got that it's been some time since we've seen a competitor as ruthless as he was. I try not to let the bitterness overtake me, but it does. I know no such thing would've been spoken about me had the Games been different. I try not to think about what would happen if I was there in his stead, if Katniss would've let me kiss her like that, or if she would've shot me the first chance she had.
On good days, I like to think it's the first. When I'm being realistic I'm certain it's the latter.
A cannon booms on the screen, pulling me out of my head, and anxiety twists my stomach until I register the phrase "Cato, from District 2, fallen at last. Pity…"
I watch the sun rise on Katniss and Gale. I watch her smile, a real, rare smile, like the one in my sketch, and wrap her arms around him. The envy in me turns to horror as an announcement from Seneca Crane breaks the Star Crossed Lovers apart.
"Ladies and Gentlemen. The special rule about two victors has been lifted."
The cameras are close on both of them. As Katniss goes to cover her mouth, I watch something dark flash across Gale's face. He pulls out a knife, and guilt floods me.
Katniss is going to die-and it's all my fault.
As soon as the thought passes my mind, an arrow rips through the image on screen-and lands firmly and solidly in Gale's chest. He falls to his knees. He opens his mouth to speak and blood comes outs. He falls. The cannon sounds.
Katniss is screaming when the helicopter comes to take her away. I'm laying in bed, shaking. I am both in awe of and so scared for this Girl on Fire.
And selfishly, I realize I might end up seeing her again.
There's a celebration in town that I'm exempt from, but I can hear it all the way from the Seam. The voices are drunk, loud. Not exactly celebratory. I think of Prim, of her shy smile when she told me she was glad I was awake. Of how happy she'll be to see her sister-and I hope with no backing that the district will feel the same.
What was she supposed to do? Let him kill her? Something tells me if Gale was returning as the victor, the reception would be much more pleasant. There were many in 12 who still didn't see much use for women beyond having and rearing children, those who were bitter that they had to sacrifice themselves to the mines while the women stayed home-and now they're angry that one is returning.
I try to sleep, but every time I close my eyes, Katniss screaming appears behind them. I hope I get to talk to her eventually, tell her I'm behind her-but will it even matter? Is it selfish of me to impose my presence onto her? She'll be too busy celebrating her victory, I'm sure. And I'm probably the last person she'd ever want to see.
I hear voices getting closer to my cabin and I brace myself. Sae had brought me a Bowie knife of my own a few days ago, for protection, but when I touch the handle, all I see is the murder in Gale's final gazes, and I withdraw from the blade as if it's a snake.
If the rest of the Hawthornes have come to finish me off, let them. I will not stoop to their level. I will not shed anyone else's blood.
Thankfully the voices outside of my door seem to be only two, and as they get closer, I hear a man and a woman, arguing. They must be right outside now, cause I can make out the conversation.
"I don't understand why you must do this now."
"Have you ever tended to an amputee before?"
Sae. And a voice I can't place but know. I close my eyes just as the door opens, certain whatever argument they were having wouldn't continue if I was awake. I wonder what it has to do with me.
"He's asleep." Sae says as she crosses to my cabinets and pulls out the salve. "I'll be quick, I've just got to change the dressing."
Strange, I think, I'd been doing this for myself for a few weeks now. I crack my eyes open and Sae sees, raising her eyebrows slightly at me before busying herself with the bandages. I see the man-Mayor Undersee.
I realize with a jolt that whatever Sae is about to say, she wants me to overhear.
"Don't you think you're being a bit presumptuous?" Undersee asks, his discomfort with the situation clear.
"Did you not see that bundle they burned in the square? Before the peacekeepers broke it up?"
"I-"
"It had a braid and a mockingjay pin." Sae says harshly. "This district ain't ever had a girl win before, let alone one who took out the most promising boy in his year. She's proving them all wrong, you see? Women aren't shrinking violets, they can stab you in the chest. Drop you dead. And they're angry. They want to snuff her out, Mr. Mayor."
"Sae I don't think formality-"
"I do." She cuts him off. "Look-you did right by my Mirva, helped her where I couldn't until those headaches got her. And you're a smart man, Ursus. But wise men are the ones who recognize when they're way over their heads, and ask for help. The men in this district-and many of those drips who married them-want her head on a stake. Now you can do something about it ahead of time, or you can be the one to answer to Snow when the newest jewel in his collection of winners gets broken before she even starts her victory tour."
"But the peacekeepers-"
"Can be bought." Sae finishes for him. "I already talked to her mama-I promised I'd look after her. Keep her safe until she's too big of a deal for the likes of those fools to go after, wait until they get the extra food and their children don't starve this winter. The question is, Ursus, are you going to work against me or with me?"
I watch as Madge's father's face twists in the light of the fire. He looks like he's aged greatly in the past few hours. It must be hard to realize the district you supposedly are in control of is beyond your reach.
"Fine. I'll have you and your boys look after her. But I don't understand why it's gotta be him. Do you think a boy with one leg stands a chance against the likes of those miners?"
"They haven't killed me yet." I say from the bed.
"Shit!" Mayor Undersee jumps nearly off the ground. He clears his throat and tries to regain some composure.
"Mr. Mellark."
"Boy with one leg works just fine, sir."
Sae snorts but quickly turns it into a hacking cough.
"I think Sae made a pretty good example of the last one of those miners who tried to mess with me."
Mayor Undersee groans.
"I don't want to know."
"We weren't going to share." Sae says simply. "Peeta is a good worker-he's steady on that leg and he won't be too imposing to Katniss-no offense boy."
I shrug, and say the one thing no one else will.
"Plus, if people remember it was me who Gale took the place of, perhaps their hate will move off of her."
Sae nods in agreement, but Mayor Undersee doesn't look so sure.
"I'll have my other boys in Victors' Village to assist, but we don't wanna overwhelm her. Do you remember when Abernathy came back?"
Mayor Undersee nods, his jaw tight.
"I can speak to the Capitol about extra security-"
"And what will that do?" Sae says, cutting him off once more. "Get a bunch of the miners killed, on your orders. I don't think that'd be something you'd want?"
"No." Undersee says, deflating. "They're getting the crowds in control now, I'm meeting with that Trinket woman in the morning-normally they have some big to-do when the victor returns but given everything-"
Sae nods.
"Get her to Victors' Village and we'll take it from there."
A few days later, I'm baking bread to make amends, if such a thing is possible. When I hear footsteps behind me, I don't look up from my outdoor oven.
"Not much longer, Sae. Be patient for Pete's sake."
"Sorry, I-"
I turn at the sound of a sweet voice. Prim. She looks older too, paler. One of Sae's boys, Louis, is standing a few feet behind her. I nod at him and he returns it-obviously Katniss wasn't the only one under our protection. Sae hadn't let me go with her yet, but she had taken some bread the last time. I'm baking more-because it's all I know what to do. I wipe my hands on my apron and offer Prim a smile.
"Oh! No don't be sorry, I thought you were Miss Sae coming to bug me again." I roll my eyes dramatically and count her small smile as a win.
"What can I do for you?"
"Um.." She looks nervous, staring at her shoe in the dirt.
"You're the one taking care of-taking care of Katniss?"
I realize she's trying not to cry so I make my way over to her, too tall in her small presence, I crouch down with some difficulty.
"That's right. I'm not gonna let anybody here do anything to hurt her. Ok? I promise."
Prim sniffs and nods her head. "Ok. Uh-when you see her, could you give this to her? I don't want her to be sad that momma and I can't…it's not safe yet."
"I know." I say, gently taking the letter from her and tucking it into my pocket.
"I have something for you." I say. "If that's ok." I address to Louis. He shrugs and with Prim's assistance I stand fully again. She follows me to my cabin and I hear a soft "oh" as she takes in the paintings I'd hung up. The brown of the wood was too depressing to look at day after day, so I'd put the sketches and paintings in my book to good use. All but one. I cross to the small table I work at and gingerly pull it out of the pile.
"It's us." Prim breathes. I watch tears fall into her smile as she looks at the sketch.
"You drew this?" I nod.
"A while ago. I could you two laughing all the way down the street, and I couldn't get it out of my head. Sorry if that's weird-"
"Thank you." She says, wrapping her spindly arms around my waist for a hug that nearly topples me.
"You're welcome." I say, gingerly patting the top of her head. Hugs aren't something I'm used to, and I'm not entirely sure what to do with my hands.
Prim pulls away. "I should go."
"You should. Louis will take good care of you."
She nods, holding the sketch to her chest.
"Prim?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad your sister won."
She smiles, a real smile, and I wonder if I'm the first to tell her that.
"Me too."