Pure Torture: a Hunger Games Fanfiction

Chapter 70

Katniss

"I'm wrapped up and waiting for you. I've lost so much more than I'll ever know." -Kerrie Roberts

Christmas came and went, pleasantly uneventful. I'm feeling better than I ever have before, with a new sense of positivity. My attitude could use a bit of work, but at least I've made some progress.

When Doctor Aurelius calls weekly, I tell him about how I feel better. Although he's happy, he's still worried.

"I don't want to rain on your parade, it's a miracle how you feel, but you just need to know that whatever we've put you on medication-wise could stop working at some point. You could develop a tolerance to it, in which it stops having as great of effects on you. And, since you're pregnant, any number of things can happen in your body that'll change how you're being effected." He explained during a recent phone conversation.

Peeta and I understand it fully, accepting that it's not in our control, and try to enjoy whatever sanity I've gained while I still have it. Sure, there are times when I become abnormally recessive or upset, but we're getting through it.

Today, the day before I go in for my scans and my follow-up and my ultrasound, Peeta and I have decided to take a trip to the bakery. Last week it was finished being rebuilt, and Peeta accepted his role as the baker's son once again.
We're just trying to get back into the swing of things.

I wrap myself in my heavy jacket, preparing for the bitter cold of this early January morning. Peeta stands by the door, all dressed, and waits for me. As soon as I'm ready, he pulls open the door and we're assaulted by cold air.
We step out and walk on the snowy ground the whole way to the bakery.

When we get there 20 minutes later, Peeta falls silent as he stands back and looks at the property.
"I knew they'd do this. It's just where the old one was." He says.
The old one. Where his family probably died because of me and the firebombs that swept the district.

I put my arm around him and sigh, feeling the tremendous weight of guilt on my shoulders.
"I'm sorry." I say.
"You don't need to be."
"Yes I do. This is my fault." I say.
He looks at me as if I've forgotten something. We make eye contact, and for a moment, I feel like I've lost all my memories.
"Whoa." I say quietly.
"You okay?"

"This is my fault." I repeat.
Peeta looks at me as I add, "Real or not real?"
"Not...Not Real," Peeta says, "It was Snow's fault. Not yours."
I take a deep breath and nod, looking steady on the outside but toppling over with confusion inwardly.

We're just about to start walking into the bakery when we're approached quickly by a person. They're clearly from the Capitol, which makes my palms start to sweat. A cameraman follows her.

"I've been waiting forever to talk to you two!" She squeaks.
"What?" Peeta asks.
"I'm Flavia Twill, from Capitol TV! I'd just love to get a few words out of you two. How's the pregnancy going, hm? Boy or girl? Any names picked out?" She asks quickly.

My brain, which is foggy with my recent confusion, can barley follow what she's saying. When I finally catch on, I realize she's asking about the baby.
"Hi, Flavia," I say, trying to behave and be nice for the camera on me, "Everyone keeps asking about the baby, and we keep refusing to give out information. Unfortunately, that's not going to change. We don't know the gender of the baby."

She looks disappointed.
"Not even just a little bit? Okay." She says.
"Thank you for respecting that." I reply.

The red light on the camera shuts off and I sigh.
"Why won't you give any information? You don't like the spotlight?" Flavia asks.
"Not particularly." I reply dully.
"That's a shame. Anyone in the Capitol would kill to get this attention! You should probably be grateful." She squeaks.