Flight Of The Mockingjay The Hunger Games

Always

This morning it’s the worst it has ever been. I’ve been resided next to the toilet for nearly 2 hours now and there is still no sign of it calming down. I woke up a few hours ago and only just managed to reach the toilet in time before being sick. At this rate maybe I should just sleep in the bathroom, it would certainly be a lot easier. I’m sure Peeta would disagree though and to be honest he’s already suspicious enough as it is.

I lift my head out from the toilet and lean back against the wall. The taste of vomit is strong in my mouth and it feels like its burning my throat. Waiting a few minutes before I dare to try and get up again. I close my eyes, just listening to the silence. It’s nice and peaceful. I don’t bother to get up; I don’t think I could if I tried. I never noticed how comfortable the floor was before. I begin to feel by eyes drooping, I don’t resist. I let the blackness take over me.

‘Katniss’ I feel someone shaking me. ‘Katniss, Wake up’ Ugh. Why can’t the voice just leave me alone! ‘Katniss!’

My eyelids are heavy and it takes me a lot of effort to open them. When I finally manage to open them properly Peeta is staring down at me, his face full of worry. His big blue eyes shining in the light.

‘Katniss what are you doing on the bathroom floor?’ Peeta asks, crouching down next to me and slowly whipping my hair out of my eyes.

I open my mouth but no words come out, I haven’t got the first clue what to tell him. I don’t want him knowing that I had been sick again this morning, but it works out that I don’t need to tell him. He’s already figured it out himself by my silence.

‘You were sick again weren’t you? He says, softly stroking my hair. I nod at him, there’s no point in telling him no. As he says I’m an awful liar and the evidence is stacked up against me pretty high. Why else would I be lying next to the toilet in the middle of the night?

He scoops me up into his arms and carries me back into the bedroom placing me onto the bed. I sink into the mattress, it’s soft and comfortable, Peeta leaves the room, only to come back second’s later, wet towel in hand. He places it over my head and I can tell from the look on his face that it going to be another one of those days. He isn’t going to let me do anything even remotely productive today. He’s going to try and keep me in bed all day.

 It’s not going to happen though and he knows it won’t. He knows I’m going to put up an argument.  I know that in a few hours I will be feeling perfectly fine. And that point’s to one very big sign. Pregnancy and I refuse to accept it. I know I agreed with Peeta that we would start trying for a child. But I’m not ready; I doubt I ever really will be. He wanted it so bad and I couldn’t resist him. We’ve only been trying for a month! I remove the wet towel from my forehead and make means to get out of bed. I don’t get very far before Peeta is pushing me back down.

‘Katniss you need your rest.’ Peeta says sternly. ‘If you go running around like a headless chicken you’re just going to get sicker.’

This is typical for Peeta. He is always trying to protect me, but what he doesn’t know is there’s a very good chance that it’s his fault that I’m ‘sick’, but there is no way I’m going to tell him that. That would just cause something much worse. A whole new level to protective Peeta, which I never thought was possible until I heard him, talking about children. I give him an excuse.

‘What...so know I’m not even allowed to go to the toilet?’ I moan. As soon as I say it I realise actually just how desperate I am.

This time when I move to get up he doesn’t stop me. I stand up slowly, my hair is matted down and the thin fabric I’m wearing is sticking to me. I feel slightly lightheaded and I begin to feel my body staggering a little bit. I don’t have the energy to stop myself, I begin to fall but just before I hit the floor I’m caught in a strong pair of arms. I let the darkness surround me.