We Remain

Chapter 8

Katniss POV*

Pregnant. If only I said no. We did it once without protection. Stupid. And I'm the one who said it wouldn't work. Idiot. I don't know the first thing about babies, well, maybe I do because of Prim, but...no. I can't raise a baby in this world. This horrible world that would bring fear to it. The games can come back and what am I left with? I can't lose a child. I won't. But seeing Peeta, smiling as he rubs my abdomen, makes me almost smile. He's wanted children. This is the least I can do for him.
"Thank you," he says as he looks up at me, a smile is glued on his face as his pools of blue look into my eyes. I hope he can't see the fear deprived into them. But that smile is one that says he's truly happy.
I nod at him and hug him tightly. I try not to shake in his arms.
"Katniss, I know you don't want this, I know you don't like this, but just imagine the little one looking up at you, at its beautiful mother," says Peeta. Beautiful. No, I am not pretty or beautiful. Not even radiant. Not anymore. The scars on my face and damaged eyes have proven that. But this is Peeta. The boy with the bread who always loved me. He sees past my scars and damages. I just wonder what he sees of me truly.
"Peeta, what if-" I start.

"Katniss, no, the Games won't ever come back, I promise. No one is after us. Everyone that hated us is dead now. Just listen to me. I promise to protect you and our baby no matter what, you hear me? I won't let anything happen to it. To you. I'll do anything to protect you and the baby," he says while holding my hand. There's something in his voice that makes me believe him, something that is gentle and reassuring.
I squeeze his hand tightly as I kiss his lips. I can't think of anything to say, so this is my answer. Kissing him. It's my remedy. It helps me keep sane.
He draws back and strokes my cheek with his thumb gently.
"Come on, supper is almost done," he says as he gets up. He helps me stand and kisses my forehead. I am kinda hungry. And now I'm eating for two. But I guess not yet.
We walk down the stairs, hand and hand, and he sits me down at the table. I watch him as he walks into the kitchen. A baby.
My own baby. It's hard to believe after everything. That I would be having my own family. If only this was a dream.