Peanut Butter Fingerprints

Chapter Sixteen

Here is a chapter in America's PoV. I thought we'd have a break from Maxon and see what our favorite frazzled pregnant (and very confused) Queen is up to.
Also, you'll see a picture of America's Winter Gala dress above.

Enjoy!~

Happy belated Halloween! (:

-Amy

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"STUPID! STUPID! STUPID!" I MUMBLED to myself as I raced up the marble steps. I tripped a few times, my heels getting caught up in my dress and the fact that I couldn't see anything through the curtain of blurry tears I kept trying to hastily wipe away.

And the fact that I was a bit front-heavy was not to be overlooked; I'd gained a good ten pounds since Marlee dragged me down the kitchen and made me sit down and eat a five course meal in one sitting. I'd been nauseas ever since then, and my back and ankles hurt more than ever.

I tried to cover up not eating by wearing long sleeved and floor length gowns that covered up my swollen but twiggy legs and arms. The moment she saw my boney fingers as I tried to sit down with her and help her learn how to play the piano again, she had Carter "escort" me down to the kitchens. (Really, he just scooped me up and carried me down to the kitchens as I screamed and kicked in protest.)

As I tried to race up the stairs as fast as I could while trying to ignore everyone's gaze burned through my back, I heard Marlee call my name.

"America, no! Come back!"

I pressed my fingers hard into my eyes as an attempt to stop the flow of tears, but it did absolutely nothing. I figured I could see just as much without having my eyes open, so I closed them as I reached the last step. Hastily, I lifted my dress and kicked my olive green and white lace heels off. There was a clink and the sound of porcelin colliding with tile, but I kept running.

I swiped my wrist across my eyes and nose and opened my eyes.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it," I muttered to myself as I found myself trying to decide whether to go left or right.

I realized then that it didn't matter which way I took; I didn't know where I was going anyway. So I swerved left as heels and dress shoes clacked against the tiles behind me. The voices screamed my name, for me to stop, for me to slow down, to think about my baby and how I might hurt it.

That's funny, coming from the same people who wanted my baby dead, I thought as I clutched two fistfuls of my olive green and cream dress and rushed down the hall blindly.

A few times, I stumbled and got my feet all tangled up in the mess of cream chiffon ruffles cascading down the left side of my dress or bumped into a small table or vase and knocked it over, but at least it made it harder for the people chasing me to catch me.

"America! Stop! Think about what you're doing!" Aspen yelled.

"I am thinking about what I'm doing!" I fired back as anger boiled up within me.

I heard the click clack of high heels slow down, and was relieved for a split second before I wondered why they'd slow their pursuit of me. Then I heard the clacking of officers' boots against the tiles and my heart sank. They sent the guards after me, I thought. This is it. This is where lines are blurred and crossed without a second glance.

That split second changed everything.

I reached underneath the multitude of layers of my dress, my fingers sliding along the red ribbon knotted around my thigh, and felt around until I found cold metal. I gripped the barrel of the pistol and whipped it out. The guards were closing in on me from the left, and the traitors on my right. I squeezed my eyes tight, sucked in a shaky breath, and lifted my hand to the ceiling, revealing a slick, silver pistol with the country's symbol engraved upon it: a songbird with a purple ribbon in its beak, the letters 'M' and 'A' embroidered in green on the ribbon in Maxon's elegant swoopy writing. I slid my fingers over the engraving on the handle, writing out the words in the blackness in my mind:

A.S.-
Fight for freedom.
Fight for peace.
Fight for love.
Fight for what's right.
-M.S.

"SHE'S GOT A GUN!" a guard screamed from the left.

I slid my finger around the trigger, pointed the gun towards the ceiling, and fired it twice. Screams rang out through the hallway as the gunshot echoed, and debris rained down from the ceiling. I opened my eyes, and took the opportunity to run. I raced past the confused, coughing guards and quickly found the door I was looking for. And just my luck, it happened to be open. I slid inside and shut the door behind me with a soft click.

I raced to the glass gun case against the back wall and slammed my pistol into it to break the glass. I flinched at the sharp sound, and then carefully reached inside to grab a long rifle. As quickly as I could without tripping over my dress, I rushed to the door and slid the gun between the handles. There, now they couldn't get in even if they wanted to, I thought.

I turned around, putting my back to the door, and slid down to the dark floor with a heaving sob. My head fell into my hands as sobs racked my body.

"Oh, Maxon, where did I go wrong?" I whisper into his old room, the one that used to have the beautiful collage of pictures behind his bed. Now all that remained in the room was his newly broken gun case, a tub in the bathroom, and a full length mirror on the opposite wall.

I cried once more when I thought back to the Winter Gala, where my friends were still my friends, and I wasn't living among potential murderers and traitors...

***

Cliff Hanger! Sorry beasties, I have a really bad stomach ache and I'm super tired. We'll find out what happens at the Winter Gala next week! Have a beautiful day!

~Amy