The Nightmares Hidden in Dreams - A Hunger Games Fan Fiction

Sick

The light hurts my eyes, searing them with its deplorable brightness. I groan and roll over, feeling sore everywhere. I squeeze my eyes closed tighter, but know that any efforts I make to fall asleep again will be fruitless.

Peeta's soft breathing beside me is covered up by the sound of something else. I sit up, confused, to find that I'm not in my room. I can feel that we're moving, and that realization makes me put a hand to my mouth. Hurriedly, I sprint to the bathroom and kneel before the toilet, heaving the little food I had the appetite for yesterday.

That's all the reminder I need of last night and everything I learned. My stomach turns again, but not because I'm nauseous. I sink to the floor and pull my knees to my chest, rocking slightly.

I hear footsteps, one foot hitting the floor slightly harder than the other. Peeta stands in the doorway. I gaze up at him blearily, watching the way he frowns. He comes closer and sits down next to me, wrapping an arm around me. So tired, I lean my head against him and close my eyes.

I feel numb, like I'm merely a spectator rather than the one who is living and breathing. It keeps me from feeling the full force of my panic.

Vaguely, I am aware of the chill of the tiled floors, and the way that I can't seem to stop shivering. But the pieces don't quite seem to connect.

"Are you okay?" Peeta murmurs, planting a kiss on my head. It takes me a moment to register the sound of his voice and turn the noise into comprehensible words.

I just shrug, trying to work my way through the mess of my mixed feelings.

It would be easier not to feel them at all, but I'll be forced to come to terms with it whether I want to or not.

I take a deep, steadying breath, and nestle further into Peeta, hiding my face in his shoulder as if this will hide me from the looming monster that haunts my dreams, and now my reality.

I try to recall the peace I felt last night, the almost-joy but it's impossible to summon more than a wisp of the feeling.

Peeta doesn't say anything. He doesn't offer me false comfort or try to convince me that this is good. He knows me well enough that any lasting feelings of happiness will come later, because I first need to conquer my age-old fear.

Instead, he breathes deeply, with obvious intention. I begin to match the pace of my inhales and exhales with his, until our lungs rise and fall in unison. My heart slows, and I pull myself from Peeta's shirt. My cheeks are wet, though I don't remember beginning to cry.

"Will this ever get easier?" I whisper, scared to wake the monster, scared that it'll take control and shut me down again.

Peeta looks at me, so much pain shining in his blue eyes. Pain because he can't take this burden from me. It's something I have to shoulder myself. "I think it will, once you really begin to see how different our world is now. How much safer it is. I think you'll learn to be happy about it, even if that concern is always there. Just take it one day at a time. You don't need to force yourself to be happy today"

I nod slowly, and let Peeta's words wash over me like summer rain. One day at a time. I can do that.

➳➳➳

It turned out that one day was more difficult to get through than anticipated. Exhausted from my earlier breakdown, I returned to bed, awaiting the moment I'd finally be able to get off this forsaken train.

My rest is interrupted by the persistent nausea. Peeta, who fell asleep almost immediately, groans when I roll out of the bed, subconsciously looking for my absent body.

I barely reach the bathroom before I empty my already vacant stomach yet again. The acid burns my throat as it comes up, the foul taste settling on my tongue. I can hardly breathe between the heaves.

Finally, the torment ends, leaving my core aching and my limbs weak. I sit back, and then lie on my side, curled in the fetal position, begging for the aching in my gut to end.

I feel warm hands lift my head from the cool floor, and the smell of cinnamon and dill reach my nose as Peeta places my head in his lap. He brushes my sweaty hair off of my face and plants a kiss on my forehead.

He whispers sweet nothings, and the pain eases enough for me to drift into a dreamless, albeit restless sleep.

➳➳➳

When I wake again, I find that the floor beneath me is no longer moving. I sit up slightly and find that the room is comfortingly familiar. Somehow, being in my own home relaxes me in a way that was impossible on the train or in my mother's house.

I get to my feet warily, waiting for the nausea to hit me again. But it seems I am safe from it, at least for now.

Peeta is hard at work downstairs, rolling out dough while watching whatever delicious pastry is in the oven.

"Good morning," he says with a tentative smile. "Or should I say afternoon."

I turn to a clock, and sure enough I slept through the rest of the morning.

"Did you carry me out of the train?" I ask, stealing a cheese bun. The melted cheese is still scalding, and I hiss when it hits my tongue.

"Careful, it's hot," Peeta announces far too late. "And yeah, I didn't think it was worth waking you when I know you haven't been sleeping well recently." He watches me eat and his smile becomes a little surer. "I take it you're feeling better."

I shrug. "For now. It comes and goes."

"That's good enough for me," Peeta says. His expression shifts, tentative again. "How are you feeling? Now that we're home and you've gotten some sleep?"

I know he's not talking about feeling sick. I exhale heavily, "I'm just really overwhelmed. I have moments where it's not as big of a deal, and others where my fear is debilitating."

He nods, and spreads his arms. With no hesitation, I meet his embrace and wrap my arms tight around his lower back.

"We'll get through this together," Peeta murmurs. "One day at a time."