The Hunger games - I'm still breathing (Everlark)

Chapter 3

*Later that day*
"Katniss, you need to eat something," Peeta says, pushing my plate towards me.
"I'm not hungry, Peeta," I state, avoiding his gaze. He's been trying to get me to eat all morning. He'd already coaxed two glasses of water into me.
"Katniss, I can tell when you're lying remember? Please, just try a few bites for me?" He asks. Peeta's words remind me of my father's, trying to get me to eat my vegetables. This memory triggers another sharp pain to shoot through my chest and I look up to find some comfort in Peeta's eyes.
They are there when I need them, pleading with me to keep fighting. Telling me that he'll be here with me every step of the way. My stubbornness weakens a little and a desire to make him happy takes over. I tentatively nibble on a piece of toast. It's like cardboard in my mouth and I struggle to swallow it without gagging. I manage half of it though, before my stomach starts to protest.
"I can't eat anymore, Peeta," I say, disappointed that I haven't been able to do the simplest thing he asked of me.
"That's okay, a little is better than nothing. You've done really well to eat that much to be honest," he says, smiling at me. I can see the relief on his face as he takes my plate away and finishes the toast himself.
"I think I might go and take a shower," I say, getting up from my chair, my legs feeling slightly steadier than the day before.
"Okay yeah sure, I'll see you in a bit," he says, looking slightly surprised.
Showering and taking care of myself have been some of the things I've had least motivation for since I came back from the Capitol. It's probably a shock for Peeta that I haven't had to be wheedled into taking one this time.
I stand under the cool water letting it wash away the nightmares from the night before. I wash away Finnick's cruel words and the strangled screams from Prim. I let them float away to the back of my mind and push them behind a wall that will not come down. I tell myself not to think about it and to instead, focus on the water running down my body. To focus on the steady sound of the water streaming through the pipes. Focus on anything but Prim's screams. By the time I'm done, I have begun to hate the sound of the water.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror hating every part of my body. Scars, burns and bones. I dread to think about how much weight I've lost over the past few weeks. It makes me question why Peeta is still here. I'm a mess and way past fixing. Peeta is still recovering himself, he can't be expected to look after me too. Having me around is only a reminder of his torture, his family's death and the games. He can't be around the girl who sets everything on fire.