Shorts

Talk (Katniss×Peeta)

Katniss (The Hunger Games) × Peeta (The Hunger Games)

Katniss

I creak open the door to Willow's bedroom. She's sitting on her bed, reading some new book Peeta picked out for her at the library.

Tomorrow Willow begins her first day of fourth grade, the grade in which kids finally learn the history of The Hunger Games. Peeta and I decided shortly after she and Rye were born that we wanted to be the ones to tell them about it first. Tell them what really happened instead of feeding them the watered-down garbage the schools preach.

Willow looks over to me, her eyes just as blue as her father's. "Hi, Mom," she says with a grin, inserting a piece of string into her book as a bookmark.

"Hi sweetie. Could you come downstairs for a second?" I ask, then decide to have some fun and put a little fear in her. "Your father and I need to talk to you and Rye."

Her eyes widen as she sets her book aside, hopping off of her bed. "Uh, okay," she mumbles, shuffling nervously towards me and following me down the staircase.

Peeta already has Rye seated on the couch when we arrive, playing with the tassles on one of the pillows. He too looks rather nervous. We decided, however, it would be best to tell him the same time we told Willow so he wouldn't feel left out.

Willow seats herself beside Rye, and I seat myself in the armchair beside Peeta. "Are we in trouble?" Willow inquires cautiously.

"Not at all," Peeta says with a smile. "We just have something we want to talk to you about."

"Is it bad?"Rye blubbers, dropping the tassle on the pillow.

I shake my head lightly. "Not for you," I say, tapping his nose to make him giggle.

"Well, what is it then?" Willow asks, tilting her head a little.

I give Peeta a nervous glance. He sits forward, clasping his hands on his knees. "When Mom and I were growing up, things were a lot different for us than they are for you two, and it's high time you know that," he says and pauses. I expect them to groan, but neither does. They both sit wide-eyed and open-eared.

Peeta clears his throat and continues. "It was scary when we were growing up."

"Like when I call you to look under my bed?" Rye asks, squirming into the couch more.

Peeta and I chuckle. "Yes, kind of like that," he says. "But long before even we were born, there was a kind of war. This war was called an uprising." He stops and looks to me, indicating it's my turn to speak.

"You know how we live in District Twelve?" I ask the kids, and they both nod. "Well, a long, long time ago the Districts got really mad at the Capitol and wanted to get rid of it."

"But why?" Willow queries.

"Because the Capitol was a very bad place," I say. "The Districts didn't win, though. The Capitol did." Willow and Rye gasp as though they're watching a dramatic movie.

"And the Capitol, in order to punish the Districts, made a television show called The Hunger Games," I say, stuttering a little. I know I have to stay strong, but I can't help gripping Peeta's hand for support.

Willow turns to her brother momentarily. "Is that an all-you-can-eat show? 'Cause that doesn't sound bad to me," she quips.

I supress a giggle. "No, it's not anything at all like that. In this "game", a lot of people died," I say morosely. Willow and Rye quiet down and say nothing.

"The Capitol would go to each of the Districts and take two people: one boy and one girl, both between the ages of twelve and eighteen," Peeta says. "Then they would take these so-called 'tributes' to the Capitol."

"And then what?" Rye gapes, faltering over his words.

"Then, that first night, there was a parade of all the tributes. They were all dressed in something related to their District. Like District Four's tributes would be dressed as fish or something," Peeta continues. "Then the tributes would train for days and days. Learning to fight and learning survival skills and such. Then, on the very last night, there was an interview."

"Is that the end?" Willow asks. When neither Peeta or I answer, Willow and Rye stay still, listening intently. Peeta squeezes my hand reassuringly, so I continue.

"The next morning, the tributes were taken to an arena, and were forced to fight to the death. Only one person could come out alive. It's not like the super hero movies either, the good guys never ever won. It was always the Capitol," I say and stop. Willow and Rye stare at us, puzzled.

Rye scoots forward on the couch. "Why'd you tell us?" he asks, scratching the right side of his face.

I swallow. Hard. "Because. . . Because your father and I were in those games a long time ago." I decide to stop before I choke on my own words.

Willow's gaze falls to the floor and Rye's jaw drops. Willow brings her blue eyes up to meet mine. "But you didn't die," she mumbles mostly to herself. "What was it like?" she asks softly, as if she's feeling as though she asked a rude question.

Peeta speaks this time. "Scarier than those imaginary monsters under your bed. Scarier than the worst dream you've ever had. Every minute we were in that arena we were fearing for our lives."

The kids continue to ask questions. Hesitant questions. We explain how I volunteered for my sister. We explain why Peeta has a "robo-leg" and how we both escaped The Hunger Games alive. We discuss the Quarter Quell and the revolution. About me going from The Girl On Fire to being the Mockingjay. We relay the deaths of our friends, my sister, and everyone else. Tell them about our scars, and where each one came from. But the single thing that scares them most is what happened to their father in the Capitol. We choose not to tell them about the multiple times he tried to kill me, however; those are details they don't ever need to hear.

"But you're all better now, right?" Rye asks nervously, his voice quivering as he shuffles an inch or two closer to his sister.

Peeta tilts his head to the side in response. "I'll never be completely better. But that's why. . . When I. . ." he turns to me, unable to finish. I know he doesn't like talking about any of this, so I don't mind.

"That's why sometimes I tell you to leave Dad alone. He still, even after all this time, has very scary memories of the experience. They're what's called 'flashbacks', and they're so scary he occasionally just needs to be by himself," I state, deciding once again they don't need the details.

"That's really scary that you had to be in all of that," Willow says, "just so we could have a good life."

I turn to Peeta and smile. "It is scary. Scary and horrible. But you know what? Even after all of that, I wouldn't change a single thing if it meant I wouldn't have all of you."

"Neither would I," Peeta agrees.

A moment of silence passes. I clear my throat and ask, "Do either of you have any more questions?"

Willow raises her hand slowly and says, "I'm glad I don't ever have to do The Hunger Games." Rye agrees loudly.

I smile softly, thinking of everything Peeta and I went through to make sure our kids wouldn't have to live a life similar to ours. To ensure they never experienced the pain and suffering we did.

"So am I, sweetheart. So am I."

~~~

I've been working on this one for a few days now, but finally decided it would be a good time to publish it. I go back to dance on Tuesday, so updates might be slow starting then since recital is coming up.

Also that edit took forever and I will never do anything that involved ever again lol. And please ignore the tacky watermark, there is literally no way to make that go away.

Enjoy!!