Mockingjay: The New Story

Chapter Seven

Katniss's POV

It had been long enough with me on the feet, stable and as mental as I could get at this time, for anymore waiting. Coin was getting especially irritated at me, she wanted action, something to push the districts into not giving up hope. 

"For God's sake! Most of the districts are in some sort of uprising, waiting for something to happen! Anything!"

I get tired of her complaining after that meeting in Command. I have been to most of the ones scheduled, trying to keep myself out of that hospital room. I occasionally end up in a closet of vent, most likely in the evening when the day slows and I am alone in my room or after lunch. I can't seem to get Peeta off of my mind, which makes me depressed thinking of it now. I try to focus on the scene around. Plutarch sits across from me, looking as irritated as Coin, Gale to my left rolling his eyes, Annie to my right staring into the air as always. Some others, guards, high officials. None of their names float to mind.

"Shut up," I say, agitated by her to the point where rudeness seems like the nicest gesture I can give her. Coin gives me a deadly look as she does as I say, I shoot one back at her.

"Oh, and why should I listen to you?"

"Because you apparently want me as the Mockingjay! You haven't given me anything to do and you think I'm crazy!"

Before our argument would give me a headache, and possible another week in the hospital I did not want, it was then Plutarch gave up. He shot up from his seat, screaming at Coin to let me go to Twelve, like how I have been asking to for the past eight days I have been out of the hospital.

-

Having Madge or Annie or Prim, or even Gale on some good hours, to talk to while I am being watched has pleased me enough to keep me calm. It has slowed my thoughts from what Snow could possibly be doing to Peeta at that moment and has brought to mind newer ideas of better things, or things I still do not want to talk about. My mother and Prim help most of all. If they have hospital duty, I can come with them and observe, or look at the tiny children recently born through the glass looking into the only colorful room in Thirteen; myself waiting for my own to be held protectively in my arms alongside Peeta. My mother has been around more surprisingly, speaks her mind like she used to. I have forgiven her for her past behavior, but I continue to keep my guard up. The other night, when Prim and my mother were both in our room, was when I knew I needed my mother so dearly.

I had woken from a horrid nightmare of bloodshed and images that never leave my mind, and deeply wanted my father. I had known myself well enough that I was screaming my lungs off and threw the blanket off the bed. I pushed Prim away when she came to me for what seemed like the first time ever, she cowered back to her bed and my mother ordered her to sleep; although I knew she was listening.

My mother came to me, and my arms called for her. She held me why I cried, asking for anyone who was not here with us that late hour of the night. Peeta, Finnick, Johanna even who I still question if she hates me or not, my father. My mother shed tears when she heard that, I haven't asked for my father in so long, haven't even mentioned him in years. It was a surprise for her, myself even, and she took it hard. Her long lost husband was needed now, and he couldn't and wouldn't be around ever again.

I couldn't stop crying. Prim eventually came around the bed and kept me inside the comfort of my family. My mother began talking, telling me how much my father would have loved Peeta and who well he treated me. He would have been disappointed for not two seconds because of the situations I have gotten myself into. I thought over that one second. He would have been upset at me for getting pregnant at just sixteen, even more at Peeta for being part of it, but since I was fine with a child growing inside me, he would too.