The Hunger Games - I'm Still Burning

Chapter 6

5 Years Later

"No, Peeta!"

I slam the bathroom door shut, leaving him and his words on the other side. I turn the lock and kick it for good measure. He reciprocates this kick, sending some unfortunate piece of furniture in our bedroom crashing to the ground.

He keeps bringing it up and I don't want to hear it. I can't stand to hear it anymore. I rest my hands against the door and try to calmly count to ten. My breaths are coming out panicked, my heart feels like it's pumping in my throat. The heavy footsteps on the stairs accompanied by the banging of the front door, tell me that he's gone.

This is when the tears that have been waiting at bay begin to fall. I stagger backwards, coming to a stop when I hit the bath tub. I catch sight of myself in the mirror above the sink and let out a moan. I furiously scrub away at my eyes, as if somehow my manhandling them will stop them from watering, will make this all go away.

Peeta wants a family. He wants children, plural. Children that I can't give him, won't give him. And it makes me sick to my stomach, every time I tell him no, the disappointment in his eyes. He asks for so little and gives so much, I should be able to do this for him. After what he's been through because of me, I should be able to do anything for him. But I can't.

I grab a bottle of soap from the side and hurl it at the mirror, disgusted by my reflection. It smashes, splitting my face into cracked, distorted pieces. It's a much more accurate portrayal of me. The glass rains down on to the floor, it takes everything I have not to throw myself down on it too. Really, I'd welcome the pain over this feeling of frustration.

But instead I turn around and crawl into the bath, curling myself into a tight ball. I should never have let Peeta get close to me again, not when I knew that I would never be able to give him this. And why can't I? Give him everything he wants? Why can't I give him this? The list of reasons is never ending for me but Peeta thinks we can beat them all and still come out through the other side. I just don't think I'm willing to take that chance.

He would make a good dad though. I've seen him with the children in the bakery, they all adore him. He takes the time to listen to each and every one of them, even the ones who only have three words in their vocabulary range. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want that with him, to have something that is ours alone. Any child that has half of Peeta in would be beyond perfect. But with half of Peeta, comes half of me. That's what scares me.

Reckless, stubborn, headstrong. These aren't good traits to pass on. I've tried explaining this to Peeta but he doesn't see it that way. This is because he has the habit of only seeing the good in me. He gets so animated when he talks about having a little me and I want to just stick my head under a pillow and never come out whenever he brings the subject up.

I don't understand how, after seeing the things we have, he would want to bring a child into this world without being one hundred percent sure that they'll be safe. Who knows what could happen? A rebellion might start again; the Games might come back. Our child would be the first in line and expected to play a role at any of these events. I couldn't put them through that. But it has been seven years now. There's been nothing but peace in the Districts and with Paylor as president, it doesn't seem like that's about to end any time soon.

The acrylic walls of the bath have begun to send a chill through my body. The white acrylic walls. Four white walls. White. They remind me of the hospital room, where the doctor told me I had lost my baby. I had lost Peeta's baby. The empty feeling that followed. And he wants to do that again? Wants to take the risk of losing another one? No. I reach up to the rack that holds the towels and pull them down on top of me. They hide all the white and leave me in the dark. When sleep starts to drag me under, I don't resist.