The Little Mockingjay

The Weight of Living Part II: Katniss' POV

Song: The Weight of Living Part II by Bastille

I cradle his head in my lap and finally, finally, finally allow myself to cry. Nadia has inherited the poison that runs through Peeta's veins, threatening the purity of his heart. How did this even happen? A horrible thought dances across my mind.

"You never wanted children," it says.

I curse silently under my breath. It's right. And this is what I was afraid of. I was afraid of loving them too much, because I've learned all too well that the people you love can be used as deadly weapons against you. I think of Peeta. How he was used against me. How much it hurt when I found out. Honestly, I don't know why I didn't see how deeply I was in love with him in those moments when I watched him on the screen in the command room of District 13. I remember my days as a rebel in 13 clear as day. Without Peeta. He was being hijacked, and the ramifications are hitting my daughter smack in the face. Everyone said Finnick and I were crazy, wandering the halls wide-eyed, tying knots in bits of rope, being forced into propos, the whole time unable to think of anything else but our missing loved ones. We were crazy. Crazy in love. And clearly, the love Peeta feels towards Flint and Nadia is strong enough to break him like that. Like my love for him broke me so many years ago. Peeta hardly ever cries. And when his tough exterior breaks, I know it's bad. I know he'll never see reason. Never stop blaming himself for this, even though he isn't to be blamed. He won't care. It's his DNA in our daughter that carries the tracker jacker venom. I feel ashamed for both of us. How could we? How could we be foolish enough to bring not one, but two children into the world we live in? I'm surprised that two people who caused so much death were even able to make life. We should have known that our children were bound to face a life full of burden. They are, after all, the offspring of two people who can't seem to escape sadness and pain no matter what. And what are we doing now? Leaving them to their own devices, lost in a strange place, loaded with new and terrifying information, not bothering to ask how they are, not even wanting to hear the answer. Peeta, Peeta I understand. This is something capable of breaking even the best and strongest of us, which he is. He has every right to be absolutely distraught. I feel responsible for my children's inheritance of hardship, suffering practically runs in their blood now, but I can't imagine the way Peeta feels about it. That's why I can't leave him like this to go seek out Nadia and Flint. I can only hope they don't come in and see their parents like this. I'm not even sure how they stand us, now that they know who we really are. Experienced killers. Murderers. Crazy people. Broken children. This family is suffering deeply right now, and I want so badly to fix it. Instead, since I have no hope of lifting Peeta's muscular form onto the bed, I curl up next to him. I get as close as I possibly can. Run my hands through his curls to pull his head in so it touches mine. Tangle my legs in his, intertwining us into one being. Lay my head on his chest, leaving a tearstain right above his heart.