The Last Mockingjay

Chapter 7

My name is Katniss Mellark. I am 27 years old. My husband is Peeta. I have two children named Primrose Rue Mellark, who is eight and Ashton Gale Mellark, who is seven. I used to be the Mockingjay. I helped overthrow the Capitol. The Capitol is coming back to destroy me, to destroy my family.

“Katniss.”

Gale’s voice brings me back to the present. I open my eyes to see his face directly in front of me. I jump away, his eyes boring into mine. I look away instinctively, afraid of what I might see in his gaze.

I find myself curled up in a fetal position, my hands wrapped around my knees. I unwrap myself and lean back on the wall. Instead of looking up, I stare at my left hand, turning my palm over and back again and again. I don't know how long we sit there until Gale finally speaks up.

"Katniss, are you okay?"

I let out a harsh laugh.

"No. I've never been, and now all of the sudden you think I am?" Now I finally turn my head to meet his eyes. They're full of concern and worry. Even after all I've done to him...

I look around the room I'm in. A desk sits in the middle of the room with chairs placed in random order around it. Paintings are thrown everywhere. Some are ripped while others are thrown on the floor or askew on the wall. This is the study. "What happened in here?" I ask, noting the disarray.

"You did," says Gale looking at me cautiously, as if I might explode any second.

"I did?"

"Yeah, you don't remember?"

I shake my head violently, afraid of what other damage I have done. "Well, after you freaked out and began screaming and swatting at Peeta, who kept trying to calm you down, you ran in here and started yelling and throwing paintings everywhere. Peeta tried to go after you, but..."

"But, what?"

Gale turns his face away from me and begins to run his palms across the back of his neck. I know he's hiding something. "Gale, what did you do?" I ask demandingly. He still won't meet my gaze as he continues.

"I told him to let you be and that you could figure it out on your own. He understandably got mad and came at me, so I... In self-defence... Um... Kind of punched him in the face."

"What do you mean you kind of punched him in the face?"

"Katniss, look, he was coming at me, so I had to make a choice."

"Then you should've made a DIFFERENT CHOICE!" I'm on my feet now, less than an inch from Gale's face. I can see the regret in his eyes, but I can never seem to forgive him -or anyone- very easily. My anger is seething through my every pore, and I know that if I release it, I won't be able to retain it.

Instead, I storm out of the room and begin searching the house for Peeta. I go to the kitchen first, but instead of finding Peeta, I find Prim, Ashton, and Haymitch sitting around the island in an eerie silence. Honestly, I'm surprised Haymitch isn't passed out drunk at his house right now. Prim and Ash's faces turn toward me as I walk into the kitchen, their faces uncharacteralisticly grave.

"Why aren't you both outside?" I ask, my voice hoarse from screaming. They give me a puzzled look.

"It's nightime, Mommy" Ashton pipes up. And sure enough, when I look out the window, the sun has mostly set.

"Oh," I reply feebly, "Where's your father?" Instead of the children answering, it's Haymitch.

"He's in there." He points down the hall to our bedroom. I turn to head down the hall, when Haymitch's words stop me.

"I'm not sure if you want to see him like he is, sweetheart. He's not taking the news much better than you. Maybe even worse" Instead of discouraging me, this makes me even more motivated to get to him. He needs me now, and I'm not going to let him down this time.

I don't turn back to look at Haymitch or my children. Instead, I sprint down the hallway to the door. I hesitate as I open the door to our bedroom, scared of which Peeta I'll find inside; the one that came back from the Capitol, or the one that gave me bread when I was starving to death.

I look in the room and find it trashed. Everything is in complete disarray. Picture frames lay on the floor broken, furniture is turned on its side or upside down, draws lay empty on the ground, and the contents are scattered throughout the room. There's no sign of Peeta anywhere, and I have no idea where he could have gone.

"Peeta?" I ask the room tentively. I hear a wimper from the opposite corner of the room, and I rush to the noise, trying to avoid the debris below my feet. Then I see him. Peeta is curled up in a ball, rocking himself back and forth, and gritting his teeth. His breathing is labored, and I can see the blood coming from his mouth where he must've bitten his tounge. I also see a black eye forming where Gale had puched him. I instantly feel horrible that I couldn't control myself and help Peeta when he needed me.

I collapse next to him, his body tensing even more as I do. I cautiously reach my hand out towards him, testing to see if I'm safe to do so or not. I feel his muscles tighten beneath my touch, but he does not shrink away. Slowly, inch by inch, I get closer to Peeta, and inch by inch, his body becomes looser and less tense. After what seems like an eternity, we are in each other's arms, and our faces are almost touching.

We stare at each other, no emotion covering our faces, and we just sit there for a minute or two until I break the spell. I move in closer, and graze my lips against his gently. I can taste the the blood coming from his bitten tounge, but I ignore it. For a second, Peeta just looks at my lips, then gently brings his lips to mine, and I can feel all the tension we'd been holding just drain from our bodies. Soon our legs are entangled, and we can't seem to get enough of each other.

It's hard to find a place to come for air, so our breaths soon become fast and shaky. Our kisses become more urgent and passionate as our bodies become pressed together, melding into one. I want this to go on forever and ever, but suddenly there's a knock at our door. I reluctantly pull away, and look into Peeta's deep, blue, delicate eyes.

"Mommy, Daddy, are you okay?" Ashton asks, his voice muffled behind the bedroom door. I sigh and withdraw from Peeta's grip. I turn my head to the door.

"Yes. We'll be out there in just a minute." I get to my feet, then help Peeta to his feet as well. I peck him on the lips one more time, and practically drag him to the bathroom. It's amazing how, just like that, we are fine again. How all it takes is our lips to make everything seem okay, if only for a minute. I hear all the unspoken words between us as if we have our own language. "C'mon. Let's get ourselves cleaned up."