Blooming in the Spring

Chapter 4

Peeta sticks to his word. 

It's already been a week and he comes back to my house every day to check up on me. Often few words are spoken between us but he always brings bread and he never presses me to talk about how I'm feeling. Though I was skeptical at first of this arrangement, I suppose it's good for us to get used to being around each other again. Plus, the air feels just a little bit lighter when he's around. 

Haymitch stopped by again a few days after he first visited me. Peeta must have filled him in on the situation because he told me he was glad I wasn't being so stubborn about it all. He said that he's noticed a change in Peeta already. That he's less defensive and more patient and even more of his memories have come back. I'm not sure how much all of this has helped me but I suppose if not for myself, I can play nice for a while for Peeta's sake. 

The nightmares still come. In fact, they feel worse with each passing day and I feel more and more like I'm drowning underwater, sinking and sinking deeper into the darkness. I don't tell Peeta this. I don't tell him that sometimes, the tiniest buried-deep part of me wishes he would stay. That he would curl up next to me at night, close enough to actually touch me. Close enough for me to hear the sound of his steady heartbeat. So that maybe, just maybe, the nightmares would finally leave me alone. I don't tell him any of this. I can hardly let myself think about it for more than a second. 

This morning is particularly hard for me to drag myself out of bed. Last night, I dreamt that I was back underground in the Capitol, in the sewers. I watched all of Squad 451 be ripped apart by mutts, shot by Peacekeepers, melted away by beams of light, and ground to death by sharp gears tearing up the ground under our feet. Those I know I did lose, like Castor and Jackson and Finnick. But everyone else too; Gale, Peeta, Pollux, Cressida. All victims to Capitol weapons and all brutally murdered before my eyes. I  was trapped, frozen in horror watching as a mutt took out Gale's throat and tore Peeta's limbs apart. I couldn't save them. I can't save anyone. 

I woke up screaming with such intensity that I thought I may never stop. I half expected Peeta or Haymitch or someone to hear me and come running. No one did. They must have still been asleep. 

It's been several hours lying in paralyzing fear, watching the sun rise into the sky when I hear Peeta come in through the front door. I do not stir. 

Usually, I am up and moving at this hour so Peeta will come looking for me, I'm sure. But I cannot get myself to move. I can hardly even get myself to think about anything but the sounds of my friends dying in front of me. Some of these sounds are made up in my head, but there are some that are very real. I will never forget how Finnick's voice sounded as he cried out for help when the mutts were ripping his body apart. It makes me feel physically ill. I couldn't save him. I can't save anyone. 

As if on cue, there is a soft knock at my bedroom door. I do not answer. I picture the Peeta in my dream, still battered and bruised from his torture in the Capitol. Far more skinny than he's ever been. His eyes a stormy shade of gray rather than crystal clear blue. And falling, falling, falling in defeat by the sewer mutts. Right before the final death blow, he sees me. He tries to call out, reach out, for help. I'm screaming, kicking, punching. Trying to reach him before the mutts can kill him. I fail. A mutt dives its fangs into his chest and a guttural, animal scream escapes Peeta's lips. He doesn't die right away. The mutts back away, leaving him to suffer. And I have to watch as he cries out until his last breath finally comes. I couldn't save him. I can't save anyone. 

"Katniss?" I hear Peeta, the real Peeta and not one made up in my dream. He enters slowly, trying to figure out if I'm still asleep. When he sees that I'm awake, he brings a tray of tea and bread to my bedside. I do not move. I do not look at him. I am blank and emotionless and numb.