Stories Don't Ring True

Grey

Chapter 3

Katniss's POV

I count the seconds between beeps I hear from other rooms to pass the time, trying not to think about the kicking baby in my stomach. They have done this before when Peeta was there, but they almost don't stop now. I am 6 months pregnant with him or her and they are getting restless, like they want to break free of my stomach and live.

For some reason, I just want the opposite. I want to crawl back into my mother's stomach and start my life over again, with no mistakes. On that day, I could tell my father to stay home. I could talk to Peeta and make friends with him. I could not go into the hunger games. I could live a better life. A happier life. Less people would die, and I wouldn't have killed any of them.

I want that life. Not this one.

Not here, where my baby will have next to no chance of meeting their father, where my own father is gone, where Peeta is gone, where I am tormented by nightmares every time I try to sleep, where I can never find peace. Now I can only find peace in Peeta's arms, but I will never get that again.

Because every bit of peace I ever had has been taken from me. By the Games, by Snow, by that one canary that stopped singing.

It's all gone now.

◇◇◇

Doctors come and go, never getting proper conversations with me.

Haymitch comes in occasionally, trying to cheer me up or on really bad days just filling the awkward silence or even just staying there being sad with me. And I hate to admit it, but it does help a little.

I am lying on the bed with Haymitch sitting next to me at the moment when the door swings open and I see the face of my mother. She smiles at me and Haymitch takes his cue to leave.

"Hi," I say awkwardly.

"Hey sweetie," she replies. She keeps smiling, so I try to smile back, but it feels so unnatural and wrong so I stop. Then I realise I probably look stupid smiling and then just looking blank but when I go to smile again I finally just break down and cry. Not exactly the best way to make me not look like a complete idiot, but I can't help it and it is the best way to convey my emotions.

"Katniss, it's okay-"

"NO, IT ISN'T," I half shout. "I WISH PEOPLE WOULD STOP SAYING THAT. IT ISN'T OKAY. IT HASN'T BEEN OKAY FOR ALONG TIME AND IT ISN'T EXACLY LOOKING LIKE IT'S GOING TO BE OKAY AGAIN."

She sighs and looks almost pitiful for me, so I instantly regret saying it because I don't want pity. Pity won't help me, it just makes me seem weak. What I need is Peeta back. The boy who gave me hope, with just some loaves of bread and a single dandelion. The boy who became a symbol to me himself that things were changing and it was all going to be okay.

"I need Peeta."

"I know." She looks thoughtful for a minute and then leaves the room.

I rest back down from my sitting position and the door opens again, revealing my mom and someone else behind her, who looks about 14 and has long blonde hair and blue eyes and a sweet smile. It takes me a minute to register Prim and we embrace.

"Hi Katniss."

"Hi little duck." I know she can't see my face, but I smile. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," she says. She pulls away, and sits down.

"So," I say propping myself back up on the pillows again, "Since nobody else can be bothered to tell me recently, what's been going on outside my very luxurious room?"