The Hunger Games: Continued

Doubtless

Katniss' POV

2 months later

Peeta is supposed to make frequent visits to his therapist.

Dr. Aurelius has been calling almost every day, insisting it's mandatory. Of course, Peeta refuses. I'm not permitted to go with him — "too many triggers," the doctor says. Peeta insists he's fine. But I know he's not. The confusion still comes. The venom attacks. We manage. But it's not alright.

I don't want him gone — not even for a few days. But Haymitch agrees it's best. For him. For us.

So we wait at the train station in the pouring rain.

My hair clings in damp clumps. My father's leather jacket chafes against my skin. Peeta looks sorrowful, wet hair plastered to his forehead.

"I don't see why I have to go," he says.

I raise my eyebrows. He knows why.

"Talk some sense to me," I say.

"I can't."

"Then go."

I manage to stay calm until the train pulls in. Suddenly, every inch of him feels precious — his lashes, his mouth, his hand in mine. As if I might never see him again.

I grab him tightly, burying my face in the crook of his neck. Confusion swirls inside me: Go. Don't go.

He presses his lips lightly to my forehead, then pulls away. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay."

Tears sting, but I force them back. I count every step until he disappears through the train door.

Haymitch walks me home in silence, his arm draped over my shoulders. "He'll be back soon. It's for his own good. You've seen his attacks."

"I know."

At my door, he asks, "Want me to stay?"

"I'll be alright. Thank you."

I hug him before stepping into my empty house.

⸻

I keep expecting to find Peeta. In the study, painting. In the bedroom, asleep. In the kitchen, baking. But he's nowhere.

I feel so painfully alone. Deprived of his hugs, his kisses, his presence. Ridiculous — it's only been half a day.

Oh, how do I pass the time?

I climb to the roof, Buttercup curling in my lap. The cold cuts sharp, the kind of cold that means snow is coming.

I want it to snow. I want to catch flakes on my palm, curl by the fire with hot milk, watch Peeta bake cheese buns, build snowmen like I used to with Prim—

The thought stops me cold.

I scoop Buttercup into my arms and retreat. The roof isn't safe when sorrow is this heavy.

⸻

Peeta's POV

Hospital machines beep around me. Dr. Aurelius leans forward in her chair.

"Surgically, there's nothing we can do. The venom will remain in your bloodstream. But therapeutically, we can help reduce your attacks."

Hope flares. "How?"

"Close your eyes," she instructs. I obey. "I'll say a name or situation. You respond with the first word that comes to mind. Ready?"

"Ready."

"The tracker jacker attack from your first Games."

"Careers."

"The beach in the Quarter Quell."