The Nightmares Hidden in Dreams - A Hunger Games Fan Fiction

Madness

Spirals are infinite, endless. They lead you down a rabbit hole that goes on and on, until there is no hope of climbing out of it. All that's left is to fall, deeper, deeper, deeper.

Sometimes you don't fall as deep. Sometimes, the spiral moves slower, and it's possible to leave it, or at least forget about it. But the rabbit hole is always there, waiting for you to make a misstep and fall back into its clutches.

I'm so deep within the thoughts circling around my mind that I miss the sound of the doorbell. I'm only shaken out of my stupor when Peeta touches my shoulder on his way to the door.

I blink rapidly, trying to remember where I am and what I'm supposed to be doing.

I'm in my house, sheltered from whatever lies outside. And the person just outside is my mother, here to see me and the mess I've become.

But no, she can't see that. I can't let anyone see that.

I carefully school a practiced smile on my face, big enough that it conveys the appropriate amount of excitement at seeing my mother, but not so big that I appear mad.

My mother and Peeta walk back into the room, and I stand from the couch to give her a hug. Looking over her shoulder, I can see Peeta staring at me with narrowed eyes, making it clear that he can see right through my facade.

My mom pulls back to get a good look at me. I know that she can see the dark circles under my bloodshot eyes, but she mentions none of it. Maybe she believes it's because of the pregnancy and not because of the nightmares. "How are you feeling?" she asks, looking me up and down, reading my body in the way only a healer like herself can.

"Pretty good now that the morning sickness has gone away," I respond. "My back has been killing me lately, though."

She grimaces, "That's only going to get worse from here on out." My mom guides me to lay back on the couch. "How have you been sleeping?"

"Good." Someone clears their throat and I turn my head to see Peeta with his arms crossed. I roll my eyes. "Okay, not good. But I've been getting a decent amount of sleep."

"Decent?" Peeta asks pointedly, and I scowl at him.

"Fine," I sigh. "I haven't been sleeping well."

"Because of the nightmares?" My mother questions.

I stare at her. "How do you know about that?"

Her and Peeta share a look, and I turn my head to look at the ceiling again. "That's who you were talking to that day on the phone."

"I tried to tell you," Peeta says. "But then we got distracted."

My mother's lips twitch, and I flush red with understanding. Peeta seems to realize at the same time as me the double entendre.

"No, not like that," I protest, trying to undo the damage. "We were just talking about other stuff."

"What you two do behind doors is irrelevant to me, Katniss. Besides, you're pregnant. It doesn't take a genius to realize what you've been up to," my mom puts simply.

If it's possible, my face gets even hotter, and a glance at Peeta reveals that his cheeks are just as red as mine.

Kill me now.

I know that I have no valid reason to be embarrassed. Peeta and I have been married for five years, and if the walls are as thin as Haymitch claims, then our private lives really aren't private to anyone. But there is just something so degrading about my mother knowing what we do.

The room descends with an awkward silence. Peeta scratches the back of his neck and avoids eye contact with both me and my mother. I try not to look at my mom as she gently feels around my stomach, answering her many questions as concisely as I can manage.

Finally, she lowers my shirt and helps me to sit back up. "Well, everything seems to be going well. I think it's safe to say that you've popped." She gives me a grin with this sentence, and I feel the need to smile too. Though my feelings are mixed, I can't deny that seeing the small bump that holds my child brings me a sense of pride. "I would estimate you to be somewhere around sixteen weeks, but I can't give you an exact prediction." She hesitates, "Are you sure you don't want to come to the hospital in district 4, at least once? The technology there is far superior to anything I can do."

I shake my head. "No, I don't trust any of those doctors or their technology."

My mom sighs, "That's what I thought. I'll try to visit one more time before the baby comes, and then I'll return to help with the delivery, as long as you still want me to."

I nod and stand up to walk her out the door. As much as I want her to be here more, or to at least stay for dinner, I know that it's too hard for her. She can't bear to be in District 12 for any longer than necessary, because the memories haunt her. First of my dad, and then of my sister. She can't separate this place from her grief.

I hug my mom tight before she leaves, and she only pauses for a second before returning the embrace. She must somehow sense that I need it, because she's not the first to let go. She kisses my cheek and smiles proudly before leaving. The door closes behind her with a barely audible click.

➳➳➳

Later that night, I lay awake, staring at the ceiling. I have one hand beneath my pillow, and the other rests on my stomach. I close my eyes, trying to imagine the person inside me, what they must look like, if they're aware that my hand is only inches from theirs.

I turn over, too hot beneath these covers. Peeta's breathing is even; he's fast asleep. Slowly, without making a sound aside from the faint rustling of sheets, I rise from the bed and creep down the stairs to the window in the living room. I gaze out at the empty street and look for the thin sliver of moon in the sky. In a few days, none of the moon will be visible at all, and the street will be dark save for the artificial light of the street lamps.
I'm about to turn around, to go back to sleep, or at least pretend to, when movement draws my attention back outside. A shadow briefly crosses my vision, so quickly I think I've imagined it. But it was there, wasn't it?

I get closer to the window, close enough that my breath fogs the glass, but nothing is there.

It must have been an animal, or maybe just the shadow of a tree shifting in the wind. But I can't shake the feeling that something, or someone, is watching me.

I'm going crazy, I think. Because nothing is there. And who would be watching me anyway? No, I'm just overthinking this, the same way I've been overthinking everything lately.

I walk back up the stairs and pull the covers over my head, thinking that if they can't see me, whatever monster is creeping around outside will ignore me. Every creak of the floor is that of an intruder. The light wind outside is really some man breathing over me, waiting for me to peek over the sheets before he strikes.

The mattress creaks as I move closer to Peeta, so close that I'm practically on top of him. Sensing that I'm near, he throws an arm over me and pulls me closer, and I try to relax.

Nothing is out there. Nothing but those street lamps and the moon.

But I don't fall asleep.

I've fallen into the rabbit hole again.