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

Chapter 12

The first thing that registers when my eyes flutter open is that I'm home, swaddled tightly in numerous blankets on my couch by the fire. A heat radiates through my feet, bringing me to the conclusion that a hot water bottle is covering them.
Even though I should be warm, my entire body is shivering. My chest feels tight and wheezy and I'm having trouble breathing through my nose. My head throbs in the exact spot that Johanna Mason hit me in the Quarter Quell.
Peeta sits in a chair next to me, his head leaning on my arm, his eyes closed. His hand is wrapped around mine. Even in his sleeping state it feels like he's never going to let go. His face is tear stained and looks drained of energy. His blonde curls are messy and stand up on end like they've had his hands repeatedly running through them.
I feel my free hand run it's own fingers through his hair, flattening the stray pieces sticking up here and there. His head twitches at my touch but it doesn't rouse him. He looks so young and fragile when he sleeps. How could someone so fragile and innocent survive the atrocities we went through? How can he face the horrors he went through every day and still pull through? I'm barely scraping by and his suffering has been ten times worse than mine.
A thundering snore startles me from my train of thought. I turn my head to see Haymitch passed out in the rocking chair in the corner of the room. His hand hangs over the arm of the chair and his bottle lies on it's side at his feet, half of it's contents in a sticky puddle on the floor.
Haymitch is here. Peeta is here. Two people are missing. Are Gale and my mother still in the woods? Still looking up at the tree with...with...
"Prim!" I jump up, determined to sprint back into the woods to find them. But the cocoon of blankets make it a struggle just to sit up, never mind make a run for it. The more I try to fight my way out, the more tangled I seem to get.
My movements have awoken Peeta and he sits there for a minute as if dazed by the sight of me. Then he lurches forward, his body weight pressing mine back down and wraps his arms tightly around me.
At first I think he's having a flashback and am about to scream for Haymitch to wake up, when I feel trails of water running down my shoulder. Then I feel the sobs vibrate from his body on to mine.
"I thought you were dead," he cries, his body shaking along with mine.
I make myself forget about Prim for a moment and let my instinct to comfort Peeta take over.
My arms wrap around him, meeting in the middle of his back. I stroke it up and down, feeling the taut muscles beneath his white t-shirt.
"Nope, I'm still here Peeta," I manage to croak out, "but I won't be for much longer if you squeeze me any tighter."
"Sorry," he says, immediately withdrawing himself.
"I didn't say let go completely," I smile weakly up at him.
He doesn't smile back and I am taken by surprise when his lips come crashing down on mine. He kisses me like I am the oxygen he's needed to breathe for so long. He kisses me like this is the last time we will ever see each other. I kiss him back, as if my life depended on it. His kiss is desperate and holds more fear than I ever knew a single pair of lips could hold.
"I'm so sorry for getting mad at you, Katniss," he says, pulling away and looking at me with his glistening eyes. Not wishing to see the hurting eyes in front of me, I pull him back in just shaking my head. I don't want his apologies.
"Don't ever leave me again," he says, breaking the kiss once more.
Leave him? Where did I...
Prim! The woods!
I push Peeta off me, ripping the blankets from my body. The sudden exposure sends a chill down my spine.
"Prim's in the woods Peeta! We have to go get her!" I stammer through my chattering teeth.
"What? No Katniss, you have a cold you're not going anywhere at this time," Peeta says firmly, trying to get me to sit back on to the couch.
"No Peeta! Prim's stuck in a tree, I have to go help her!" I say, stubbornly getting to my feet again. Peeta's facial expression saddens and this time when he tries to sit me back down, he's gentle and handles me as if I could break into a million little pieces.
His demeanour makes me feel like I'm missing something. I feel that something hiding in the back of my mind, too afraid to reveal itself. Blocked behind a wall that I built. It's hesitantly making it's way to the front, a blur of fire and smoke. The sound of explosions and the screams of agony. The intense heat claiming it's victims.
I lean over, covering my ears with my hands and jamming my eyes shut.
Peeta slumps down beside me, his usually comforting arms having no effect when they wrap around me. They can't erase the fire burning behind my closed eyes.
"Where's Prim, Peeta?" I ask, already knowing the answer. Clinging on to the tiniest bit of hope I have left that this has all been a bad dream.
"Katniss look at me?" He says, lifting my head up to his. I open my eyes and the tears being held back begin to spill out. "She's safe. She's in a better place okay?"
Although this isn't new, it wrenches my guts and sends pain shooting through every nerve from my toes to my finger tips.
"Gale and my mother?" I ask again, my voice becoming as numb as my insides.
"Gale's in District 2. Your mother's in District 8, setting up a new hospital," he replies.
Even though they are far away, I feel relief knowing that they are alive, not only in my crazed dreams but also in the real world.
"What happened earlier, Peeta?" I ask, hoping to make some sense of the situation.
"I have no idea. I came back to your house and you weren't anywhere. So I went to Haymitch's, just to make sure you hadn't gone back there to get a drink and you weren't there either. Haymitch began to get worried at this point too. We walked into town together, asking people as we went if they'd seen you. Most of them pointed us in the direction of the woods. It took us hours to find the lake and when we did..." he stops for a minute, clearing his throat.
When he speaks again his voice is thick with emotion.
"You were wrapped in a ball next to your sister's picture. You were so cold, your hands were like ice. Your breath was coming out in short and raspy huffs, I thought you were dying. I wrapped you up in my coat and me and Haymitch took it in turns carrying you back home," he finishes.
"You carried me all the way back?" I ask, shocked. Its a good hour from the lake back to my house.
He nods, his eyes glazing over as if he were recalling the whole event.
"I'm sorry," I say meekly.
"You want to talk about where you went?" He asks softly, knowing that this is hard for me to do.
For once I want to tell him. I want the reassurance from him that I'm not completely crazy or alone. I nod, letting him know that it's okay.
"Okay," he says, getting up from the couch. "I'll make us both a hot chocolate first, that'll warm you up, you're still shaking."
He comes back from the kitchen five minutes later with two steaming mugs that smell like heaven. He snuggles back under the blankets with me and we talk.
I tell him about my nightmares, the voices in my head, Prim's last message to me. He tells me what his flashbacks are like, how he wakes sometimes completely disorientated not even knowing his own name. I'm not the only one who's been holding back.
With each new horror that is shared, the burden is lessened. The words we speak to each other are like a silent promise that we'll always be there for each other.
We fall asleep in each other's arms, a weight lifted from our hearts and hot chocolate warming our stomachs.