A Waking Nightmare (TNHID Book 2)

Chapter 4

Katniss

The reaping will be drawn with children from ages eight to fourteen. Gale's words keep repeating in my head, a sickening earworm. I was prepared for any list of terrors, all sorts of horrors that would hurt two children in district twelve. But not her. Never her. She was supposed to have two more years.

I didn't expect this. I refused to think that Gale would go that far.

But it is dangerous to underestimate your enemies.

I don't listen to another word, even though Gale continues to speak. Peeta takes the remote from my white-knuckled fist, forcing it from my hand, to mute the television. I just sit there on the couch while he brings Willow up to her room. I can just make out his voice, but I still didn't move. He comes back down the stairs, dropping to one knee so he can meet my eyes. But even though I'm looking at him, I don't see him. All I can see are images in my mind of the many deaths Willow will die in that arena. He tries to talk to me, but his voice is just as muffled as it had been when he was upstairs. Eventually, he gives up, helps me to my feet, and leads me to our room in silence.

I lay there in shock, listening to Peeta's constant breathing. I memorize every line and speck on the ceiling. I refuse to give in to sleep.

Every time my eyelids get too heavy, or I find myself dozing, I pinch my left forearm hard. I can see that it is beginning to bruise, and there is a throbbing pain that pulses in time with my heart.

My mind fills with so many violent ends. Each one is worse than the last.

Willow is stabbed, a gaping hole where her heart should be. A spray of blood dribbles down her chin before she slumps to the ground, with the sound of a cannon marking the final beat of her heart.

She is dying of thirst, with a sandpaper tongue. Slowly getting weaker and weaker, until she can barely move anymore. Falling to the ground, and closing her eyes. Just to rest, she tells herself. Never to open them again.

Or someone drowns her in a lake, pushing her underwater while she tries to fight. But no one can live without oxygen. Her face turns red, then purple, before turning a light blue. All of the life gone from her.

A raging fire. One that was made by the gamemakers. She tries to outrun it, but finds herself surrounded. The oxygen is sucked from the air, leaving her gasping. The flames lick her arms, setting her clothes on fire. She rolls on the ground to put it out, just for them to catch fire again. Her skin becoming charred and almost melting. And then she gives in to the fumes.

An explosion. Whether it be a booby trap, of game maker design, or the landmines in the beginning, her limbs would be spread apart, possibly disintegrated. They would need to scrape up anything that's left of her body to send back to district 12. But at least it would be fast.

A slow, torturous death at the hands of another tribute. Cutting her open slowly, reveling in her pain. Leaving her to suffer for hours, before finally ending her life. With her body sliced and mutilated.

Or death by mutts. This is by far the worst way to die. Mutts can come in any form. But any death by mutts is guaranteed to be horrifying.

I remember the way that Cato died. Spending hours being eaten away by those monsters. Until he was little more than ground meat. The arrow I put in his head was more of an act of mercy than anything else.

Or the morphling girl from District 6. I didn't even know her name, but I can still see the teeth marks from the monkey mutts that marked her chest.

Or Finnick's death. He was too young. And there wasn't even a corpse left to bury. His head disconnected from his body because of the knife-like fangs of the lizard mutts. Leaving his pregnant wife a widow. That was the worst of them. Because it was completely and utterly my fault. I sent him on a mission that didn't even exist.

Most of these outcomes all end the same way. With Willow's still body in front of us as we hold a funeral service, and lower her body into the ground. Her skin cold, and her vibrant blue eyes dim and glassy.

Whether her body ends up in one piece or many, burnt or drowned or stabbed, it won't change anything. She'll still be dead.

So, I sit on the bed, clutching my sheets like a lifeline. Trying not to think about the possible outcomes. And trying not to sleep.

But the scenarios I'm not trying to think of are as gruesome as any nightmare I could come up with.

The sun is just starting to come up, so I can see Peeta sleeping. But his sleep is not peaceful. He is moving around as much as I would on a normal night, and mumbling in his sleep. I can't understand most of it, but I can make out his desperate calls for Willow.

I didn't sleep at all, knowing that the nightmares would follow. But I don't feel fatigued right now. I just feel fear and a rising sense of insanity.

I feel like I might suffocate if I don't get out of this bed and to some fresh air.

I stand up abruptly and begin to pace the room. I pause in front of the open window, trying to breathe deeply. Buty mind is filling up to the point where I feel like I may explode. I can't think of anything but death. I'm terrified. I had all this time to prepare myself for the inevitable, and yet I'm not ready, I'll never be ready.

How can I be ready to lose my daughter?

I slowly sink to the floor, my legs no longer strong enough to hold me, and run my hands through my hair, wincing slightly when I reach a tangle. As I pull my hand out of my mess of hair, I realize that I'm trembling.

"Keep it together, Katniss," I mutter to myself. But my heart is pounding so hard it's almost painful, and my chest hurts every time I breathe. Suddenly, I feel that someone is watching me.

I am frozen in place for a moment but then realize without looking that it is just Peeta. I turn towards him slowly and see him gazing at me with concern.

"Couldn't sleep?" He asks gently. I shake my head, trying to slow my breathing. He adjusts himself into a sitting position and spreads his arms out.

I stand up on shaky legs and cautiously walk over to my side of the bed. I position myself between his arms. Peeta runs a gentle hand over my back, ghosting over my spine, and my heart slows, trying to match the beat of his. His lips rest against my neck, his breaths warm against my skin. I can feel myself relaxing in his embrace. He always seems to have the ability to calm me down, no matter how far I am from peace.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" He whispers, the soft flutter of his lips tickling my skin.

"No. I knew that I would only be letting the nightmares in." I expect to feel fear, utter despair. But the sudden fury that grips me is strong, burning like a blazing fire, and leaves the fierce desire to bring Gale to a slow and grisly end.

I pull away from Peeta's embrace, and he sits there, staring at me.

"Willow is going to be reaped. You know that right?" My voice sounds calm, devoid of all emotions. Which is a contrast between the hurricane of emotions that I am on the inside. "He is going to reap her. Not because of anything that she has done. No, this is my punishment. He was always going to find a way. And he is going to make sure that she is as unprepared as possible. He wants her dead. And he wants you dead too."

"This is outside of our control, Katniss. The best we can do is keep on trying to find a way to kill Gale. And continue to train Willow."

I nod slowly, already scheming. Willow will win. I will not allow any other outcome. Starting today, I will train her. She will work harder than she ever has.

I will make her a killing machine.

But when she is presented, I will make sure she knows to act innocent. Like some helpless fool who can barely look at a weapon without getting scared. Let alone hunt, and hunt proficiently.

And then, when it is least expected, she will reveal her true nature. After all, the quiet people who scheme secretly are often the most dangerous of us all.