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

Chapter 36

*One month later*                   

I sit with my back pressed against the bathroom wall and shakily push my hair out of my face. I wipe away the beads of sweat forming on my forehead. This is the fourth time that I've been sick this week. Peeta thinks it's a bug.

I stare at the tiles on the wall opposite me, following the swirls through every twist and turn, watching as they break at the end of one tile and meet again on the next. I stare until I am dizzy.

I revert my gaze down to my stomach before the nausea can take over. My stomach, that could be harboring a secret that will destroy me when it comes out. I slowly run my hand along it, stopping at the scar on my left side. It's not possible.

There's a gentle knock on the door and my mother's head pokes around the side before I can answer. She eyes me sympathetically and moves towards the sink, where she retrieves a cloth from the cupboard and wets it underneath the tap. She firmly wrings it out and makes her way over to me. She kneels down in front of me and begins to dab the cloth over my face. I close my eyes and shiver slightly as the coolness meets my heated skin.

"This is the fourth time this week, Katniss," my mother says quietly.

I nod my head. She's a doctor, it would only have been a matter of time. But it's not real.

"Maybe it's something I ate," I mumble.

"Maybe," she says.

I open my eyes just in time to see the melancholy expression that dances across her features. She turns away from me and gets up to return the cloth to the sink. She places her hands along the edge of it and leans forward, letting out a deep, shallow breath. Here it comes.

"Katniss, is it possible that you're..."

"No," I cut her off sharply. I pull myself to my feet and quickly leave the room. I end up in my bedroom, where I plonk myself down on the end of the bed and hug my knees close to me. I'm still staring at the ground when I feel my mother sitting down next to me.

"It's okay if you..."

"I'm not," I say coldly.

"Even if you're not," she goes on, "it'll be okay, everything will work out as it should." 

I bite my bottom lip to hide it's trembling. Everything will work out, everything will be okay, as long as this is just a stomach bug. The other possibility doesn't bare thinking about.

"Don't tell Peeta," I suddenly say. I don't want to put him through anymore stress.

"Tell Peeta what?" my mother replies, half-heartedly.

I smile gratefully at her.

"But what ever it is, you might not be able to keep it a secret forever," she says, looking down at my stomach.

Then I'm up and on my feet, running down the stairs and out the front door. It seems as though my lungs have shrunk, blocking off the oxygen pathway. I gasp the brisk air in, as the reality of my situation hits me. Keep it together, I tell myself.

I lean against a nearby fence to compose myself. It's not real. It's not possible. It's not happening. Life will go on as normal. This bug will pass. Peeta doesn't need to know anything because there isn't anything for him to know. When I've managed to convince myself into a state of calmness, I continue my walk.

I find myself heading towards the bakery where Peeta is working all day. I've avoided the place at it's busiest times since the incident with the girl that looked like Prim. I usually help him set up first thing in the morning and then go or I help him pack everything away in the evening when there's only a few stragglers left. I'm worried me being there would affect the amount of people who come in and buy his goods. Peeta says they don't care but he has the habit of only seeing the nice in people. 

Today I want to be there. I want today to be normal. Even though it's noon and the place will be crawling with hungry workers, I need to see Peeta. I want to feel the regularity of his arms wrapped around me and see his every day smile lighting up his face. All these things that I have become accustomed to, I want to see them all today. Then today will be normal.

I round the corner of his bakery and stop and stare through the glass window for a minute. I smile to myself when I see Peeta behind the counter with the flour that always seems to be ever present on his face when he's working. He looks up from the man he's just served and spots me. He gives a little wave, grabs a cupcake and comes out from behind the counter. He's not far from the door when a little girl suddenly jumps round from a table and wraps herself around his leg.

She looks to be around two, with blonde waves that reach halfway down her back. She has a purple dummy in her mouth. Peeta looks down and laughs at her, before reaching over and sweeping her up in his arms. He pulls her dummy out and hides it behind his back. She laughs, showing off the dimples in her chubby cheeks. Peeta gently puts her down and then turns his back on her. When he turns back round to face her, he holds out an empty hand and the girl copies. He produces the cupcake with the dummy on top from behind his back and places it into her hand. She laughs again and wraps her arms around his neck.

I stand rooted to the spot. It's like having a glimpse into the future of what we could have. Of what I don't want to have. Of what we shouldn't have for so many different reasons. Of what we may not even have a choice over now. But watching it from afar, it all looks so perfect. Then I think of that child in the games and my heart turns back to stone. It's not happening.

I turn away from the scene and run again. To my safe place, the only place where I am ever sure of myself, back to the woods.

Where else would I go?