How It Could Have Been ~ The-Mockingjay-xx

Chapter 11

     Soft morning light pools in through the cracks in the slightly transparent, white curtains which cover my bedroom windows, and I am just sliding my legs out of bed to get up when I feel Gale's forearm pressing against my stomach, and a yank as he pulls me back, laughing, next to him. Giggling, I roll over and am met with his lips against mine as he kisses me for the first time as a nineteen-year-old. Eventually one of us breaks away, but we are both smiling. Sweeping the hair off my forehead he says, "Happy birthday Catnip."

     My lips pull further apart as my smile broadens. "How does it feel to be nineteen?" Gale asks. How does it feel? Honestly, I'm not entirely sure myself, so I desperately search my vocabulary for an appropriate word to describe how I feel.
     Finally, I manage to splutter out one word. "New."
     "New?" he asks, awaiting further explanation.
     "It's the first birthday I've had that I'm not scared. Before I was twelve years old I was terrified that every year a new age brought with it the ever-nearing threat of the Games. Then once I was twelve it meant an increasing chance that I would be picked. And my eighteenth was hardly a celebration as we had gone rogue and were defying death every day until the war ended. So in comparison it's different. I don't know exactly how it feels. I've never had a proper birthday because we couldn't afford it. And the one after my first Games was hardly enjoyable because I was so terrified," I explain. Rustling of sheets fills my ears as we sit up in synchronisation. My elbows embed themselves into my pillow because the springs in the mattress are too hard against my skin, and I prop myself up on them. Gale sits up properly with his legs spread apart, hands joined and arms resting on his knees as he always does.
     A grin spread across his face, he says, "I think we're going to have to change that."

     My eyes concentrate on the door handle turning, and then a satisfying click followed by Gale's footsteps signals I am alone. Gently I peel the duvet back and dangle my left leg out into the morning light from my now opened window. I haven't dared to look at my wound in a week ; I always leave Gale to change my bandage. Cautiously I pull back my trouser leg back to find something completely remarkable. My skin is flawless. Yes it has been a couple of weeks since my encounter with the bear, but I never expected my injury to heal so quickly. I slide my fingers up and down my shin but there is no pain where before it was excruciating.

     To make sure I am not dreaming, I stand up and begin to walk around, and find I can put all of my weight on my leg. The scrumptious scent of a full cooked breakfast wafts under the gap in the door, and I feel myself drooling as I can almost taste it already. Since Gale must be making breakfast, I decide not to disturb the surprise and make myself wait until he comes up to surprise him with my good news. Instead I sit gazing out of the window at the picturesque landscape that unfolds in the distance, and my fingers work their way through my hair until all of the knots have been detangled before I re-braid it back into the single plait over my shoulder.

     Just as I am tucking the final stray strand of hair behind my ear, I become increasingly aware of the footsteps echoing towards my door. My face lights up as Gale enters, his arms laden with a succulent breakfast of butcher's bacon and sausages, bakery bread toasted with a layer of soft butter melting into the surface, mushrooms and beans and vegetables of exotic kinds, and a pot of tea on the side.
     "Oh Gale," I gasp in awe. "Here, let me help." I pull myself to my feet but he insists that I sit back down. My facial features form a smile and I do as he says, and let myself sink back onto my mattress. I adjust my pillows so I am sitting up comfortably and straight and he lays the tray on my knee. Wishing me a happy birthday, he slides onto the bed next to me.

Now is the perfect moment. So I place my tray at the end of the bed, take a breath and turn my head in his direction.
Our grey eyes lock, and my mouth opens to speak. "Thank you," I say, my hand sweeping across his cheek softly. "But before I eat I have something to tell you." Confusion and panic flood his expression but a smile from my lips soothes his features back into a calm arrangement. Gently, I peel back my trouser leg. And he gasps.