Embracing (A Hunger Games fanfiction)

Effie's sickness

“YOU CAN NOT LEAVE THIS ROOM THIS COLOUR PEETA MELLARK,” Effie screams as soon as she enters.

“Effie,” I blink, confused. “You were there when we selected the colours, remember?”

“But don’t you see?” she squeals. “It looks horrible!”

I toss my paintbrush aside and sit down on the ground, defeated.

“Well what do I do then?”

“Repaint it of course.”

“No way,” I jump to my feet. “I just finished it.”

“And lets face it Peeta, it doesn’t look the best.”

I look around the nursery and I do see what she’s talking about. The lilac crashes horribly with the pale yellow I thought was nice at the time. Besides, if we have a boy, it’s not the best room for a he to grown up in.

I chew on my bottom lip before making a decision.

“Okay fine, but this time, you need to help me paint Effie. I promised Katniss I’d show her tomorrow.”

I thought she’d decline, but instead she waves a hand.

“Of course I’ll help. I’ll stay up all night to help.”

With the decision made, I go down the stairs to where Katniss sits on the lounge eating a chicken sandwhich, another of her cravings.

“Hey,” she greets us. “What’s wrong?”

“The colours clash in the room. We need to repaint.”

Katniss frowns before stuffing a piece of chicken into her mouth.

“Can’t I help?”

“No!” Effie and I yell at the same time.

Katniss knows she won’t win so she shrugs her shoulders and settles back into the couch.

“Okay, hurry back.”

“Always!” I call as Effie leads me out the door.

Two hours later, Effie and I return home from a newly open hardware store with two different paint colours.

Black and green.

Katniss is asleep when we walk in and after hushing Effie, I kiss her cheek before going up stairs to start.

We work for hours before Katniss knocks on the door and we’re forced to stop.

“Lunch time!” She yells without opening the door. “I cooked this time!”

When we leave the room, we make sure we keep from giving Katniss a peek.

Straight after lunch of squirrel stew, Effie and I are upstairs again.

Effie Trinket.

If only you could see her now.

Her strange pink dress is covered in green paint and dirt. Her make-up’s smudged in some places and completely gone in others.

And her wig.

I look up to notice her strange rainbow wig has fallen to one side comepletly. Leaving the bare side of Effies head. Effies bald head.

“Effie!” I gasp and stand up. She looks over at me with a frown.

“What’s wrong? I swear I haven’t missed a spot.”

“No not that. Your wig, And… your head.”

Effie straightens her wig quickly and looks down at the ground.

“What’s wrong Effie?”

“You’ll laugh.”

“I promise I won’t. I get the Capitol has some strange hairstyles, but I’ve never seen one that involves no hair at all!”

Then Effie breaks down.

She slumps to the floor, paintbrush in hand, and drops her head to her chest. Her shoulders begin to shake as strange sobs begin to emit from her throat.

“Effie, what’s wrong?” I whisper in horror.

I take the paintbrush from her hand before kneeling in front of her. Then I put my hand under her chin and lift her tear streaked face up to mine.

“Effie?”

“I’m sick Peeta. I’m very, very sick.”

Ice cold begins to run through my veins.

“How sick Effie?”

“I’ve got some cancer I can’t even pronounce. My hair fell away quickly and I began to cough up blood.”

“Oh god. How long ago was this Effie?”

“I found out during the 68th games. I’ve been wearing wigs ever since.”

“Can’t they cure it? Come on. It’s the Capitol. You’d think they’d have found the cure.”

“They haven’t,” she sobs louder. “They can’t fix me now. I’m to far gone.”

“No, no you can’t think that way,” I soothe her though it seems to be soothing me as well. There’s no way Effie can be this sick. She’ll get better.

“But I have to face it,” she wipes the sleeve of her dress across her nose. “It’s been getting worse. Sometimes I can’t even get myself to places on time.”

And that’s how I know she’s sick. So, very sick.

Because Effie’s passion is time schedules, to be everywhere at exactly the right time. Take that away and she’s not Effie Trinket.

“Oh Effie,” I have to blink away by own tears. “What can I do?”

“Nothing,” she begins to stand up. “Nothing but help me finish this job.”

I stand up with her.

“I have a list of things I want to do before I die,” she tells me as she picks up the paintbrush I took from her. “And one of those things is to meet your little baby and hold her tightly.”

Now tears begin to fall.

“Of course you’ll be there for that Effie.”

“Peeta, I don’t have long now. I’m so weak. That’s why I haven’t visited in a month.”

“How long? How long do you have?”

“If the doctors are correct, one more month.”

I cry freely now as I take her in. How did I not notice how deathly pale she was? Paler then normal? How did I not notice how her make-up looked so out of order?

How did I not notice just how sick she was?

The thoughts nearly make me scream aloud.

Effie pulls me into a hug and I hug her back tightly.

“You have to promise me something,” she whispers in my ear.

“Of course. Anything Effie, anything.”

“You can not tell Katniss or Haymitch about this.”

I pull away from her to check she’s not joking.

She isn’t.

“But Effie, you need to say something.”

“No I don’t Peeta. Please, please, please don’t say a word to them. Especially Katniss. She’ll hurt not only herself, but also the baby from the anxiety. Please Peeta.”

After what feels like ages, I nod my head.

Effie gives me a sad smile.

 “Another thing on my list is to help finish this nursery. Should we continue?”