Begin Again [Wattys 2013 Finalist]

Chapter 51

About two weeks after Peeta and my wedding night, I lie awake next to him in bed as the first rays of sunlight come through our window. For two weeks, every thing has been perfect. Peeta officially opened the bakery and it's been wildly successful. The morning after our wedding, Peeta and I went over to Haymitch's and we were both surprised at what we found there. Well, who we found. It was Effie, sitting with Haymitch on his couch, holding a cold towel to his head. Apparently, they've had a secret fling going on for years. But, obviously, it had to stay a secret from the Capitol. Now, Effie lives with Haymitch and is finally starting to dress in normal people clothes. She looks unrecognizable, almost pretty, without layers of makeup. As soon as I move to get out of bed, Peeta's eyes fly open and he jolts up.

"Nightmare?" I ask.

He nods. I'm lucky he doesn't kick and thrash like I do. I'd have much worse bruises than the ones I occasionally give him during the night as I scream myself out of a nightmare.

I kiss him on the cheek as my way of saying "everything is okay, it wasn't real".

"Breakfast?" I ask.

"What are we having?"

"Pancakes?"

"Sounds good!"

We haven't had them since our wedding morning, so I can hardly wait as I hand him ingredients and he mixes them together. When the pancakes are ready, we each take a stack and sit down to eat. Usually, I can eat five of these pancakes in one sitting. Today, after only one, my stomach starts to hurt. I think it's because I'm full, but I realize that it's nausea just in time to sprint around the corner to the bathroom. I hear Peeta push out his chair and run after me just as I skid to the toilet on my knees. He holds back my hair and rubs my back as I get sick. When I pick my head up and look him in the eyes, I immediately start bawling. It's the hardest I've cried in a while.

"Shh," he says.

"It's okay, you just have a stomach bug. It'll be okay."

I shake my head at him to say no. This isn't a stomach bug. And it's definitely not going to be okay.

"I missed my period last week," I tell him, and his eyes practically pop out of his head as his jaw drops. I drop my head to my hands and start crying again.

"Okay, okay. We don't know anything yet. I'll go buy a pregnancy test. I'll be right back."

I throw up two more times in the time it takes him to get home. He tosses me the small stick, his face expressionless, and I close the bathroom door. After waiting the longest ten minutes of my life, the pregnancy test finally shows a result. I walk out of the bathroom and Peeta stops pacing in his tracks to look at me. I can barley choke out the words.

"I'm pregnant," I tell him. Then I burst into tears again. He opens his arms for me and I run into them, sobbing into his shirt. I can barley hear his comforting words over my sobs.

"We'll be okay" and "It's all my fault" are the only things I can make out.

There's no way I'm ready to be a mother, is all I can think.

My sobs sound desperate. They come out like gasps of air, like I'm suffocating. Maybe I am. They sound like a cry for help. Maybe they are. They reach out as they escape my throat. They reach for something to hold onto, like I do. I need something to hold onto, because I no longer have my sanity. Something inside of me breaks in a way that I am all too familiar with and I am falling, falling, falling. Tears fall, fall, fall. My only thought is I'm pregnant, I'm pregnant, I'm pregnant.

Peeta stokes my hair as I stand in his arms and as I lift my head to meet his eyes, one word escapes my lips as I cry.

"Help."

I sound desperate for some kind of help, even though I know that nothing can be done.

"Okay."

He sounds determined to do something, but I can hear in his voice that the strong tone hides another emotion.

I take a step back from Peeta, running my hands through my hair, trying to get a grip on the reality of my situation. I obviously don't get a strong enough grip, because my knees buckle and I fall to the ground with my legs pulled to my chest, unable to control my cries. Peeta is immediately on the floor with me, pulling me back into his arms. My head rests on his chest and he drapes my legs over his lap. His arms clasp tightly around my waist as I lean into him. I don't know how long I stay with him, on the floor, crying. Minutes? No, it's been hours. I know that at some point I started to shake, but he still held me. My face is drenched and my eyes feel puffy. There's a pounding in my head like someone is treading on my brain with metal boots. I'm shocked out of my state of delirious crying when I hear Peeta say,

"Stop."

His tone isn't strong and determined anymore. It reveals the emotion that he's been covering for hours. It sounded like a plea. Desperate, just like I am. That's how I know what he really feels.

"You're scared," I say to him, voice shaking.

"You're tearing me to pieces, Katniss."

"Why?"

"I can't stand to see you cry like this. It hurts too much."

"I'm just so scared," I tell him.

"Me too," he says.

I feel him hold me tighter, and I'm grateful for it.

"I can't do this," I say.

"We'll do it together."

"We can't," I say again. "We're not parents! We're nineteen! We're damaged and broken and we're not healed from anything!"

"You're pregnant. We can't do anything about it. We can't be scared. We have to do this."

His voice is determined yet again. I know he wants this. But again, I'm hit with reality. His words are like a smack in the face. "I'm pregnant." And again I cry.

"Katniss don't cry please!" He begs right away.

I don't want to hurt him. And he's right, I can't do anything to change what I've already done. I sniff and try to match his strength.

"You want this, right? You want a family?"

"Of course," he says.

"It'll be okay," I say to reassure the both of us.

"I know." He says.

"You're pregnant," he says again, but his tone is happy and he's smiling.

I gather all the strength I have in me and try to mimic him.

"I'm pregnant," I say. A smile slowly spreads across my face.

He drops his arms from around my body and stands; then offers me a hand. I take it and he pulls me up off the ground.

"We're strong. We can do this." Peeta says to me.

"I know," I say, still smiling.

We're not ready, and we're young, and we're scared. But we're strong. We can do this.