Pure Torture: a Hunger Games Fanfiction

Chapter 17

Peeta

Last night she tried it again. I think the pain from her surgery and her dream of her dead father set her off.

I was with her in her hospital room. They couldn't separate me from her, so they left us alone. I had just fallen asleep in my chair. I heard movement, but I just assumed it was a doctor or something. When I heard a tool tray cart rolling on the floor a little, it reassured me. I knew it was a doctor. It had to be, right? Katniss should have just been sleeping.

I heard more movement and tools being picked up carefully. Then it was silent. It was a weird silence, as if something was about to happen. I let myself drift off a little...

One of the tools crashes to the ground, making a noise that sounds like it tears the silence in two.
"Shit!" I hear her say.

My eyes fly open, and I jump up off of the chair and get near her. She looks up at me, her pupils dilating and contracting. She squeezes her hands into tight fists and I watch as her knuckles start turning white. She breathes heavily.

"Oh my go--" I start.
"Don't!" She says, loudly, "Don't. Come. Near. Me."
"Katniss, it's okay! You're okay! You're fine! I'm here with you. You're okay!" I say over and over again.
"No, Peeta!" She says, even louder. Then her voice softens a little, but is still forceful.
"I am NOT okay. I am a monster, Peeta. I am not 'fine', or 'okay'! I need to die! Please, Peeta! Kill me. Help me finish this. I need to go to where my dad is. I can't stay here. I don't deserve life. Kill me, Peeta. I can't do it myself!" She says, tearing up.
"No." I say.

"Peeta, please." She begs.
"I can't do that, Katniss. I love you too much." I say, trying to comfort her.
It does the opposite, though.
"How can you love me? I'm a mutt! I am responsible for the death of your family, of your friends! How can you not kill me? I'm a murderous monster who needs to be stopped!" She says, her voice heightening.

She grabs another tool identical to the one that lays on the white floor. She clenches it in her hand, preparing to do what she failed to do earlier.

I get up again, and rush towards her. I have my hand on the tool, but she yanks it away. I watch as her eyes continue to darken. They're not her own eyes. I know this is the hijacking doing this to her. Katniss puts up a good fight. I have to hold her down in order to get the tool out of her hands. She's straining against me, but I don't let her go.

"Katniss," I say, trying to get her attention.
"Katniss, look at me. Look at me." I say.
She locks her insane eyes on me.
"This isn't real. It's not real. It's not real." I say. I repeat this until her eyes return to a state of relative normalcy.

Her straining stops. She squeezes her eyes shut.
"Oh my God..." She says.
I let out a sigh of relief. I lift my hand to my cheek, where she managed to graze me with the tool. It's bleeding, but not too badly.

Her eyes well with tears.
"I-- I hurt you!" She says, recognizing that the wound was her doing.
"No, Katniss. It wasn't you. It was just an episode. I'm fine, really. I'll be okay." I say, trying to reassure her.
I touch my hand to my cut. It hurts pretty badly, but I lie to make her feel better.
"See, it doesn't even hurt much. I'm just fine Katniss. You should worry about yourself, not me. Are you okay?" I ask.

I lift her off of the ground where I had her pinned so I could get the tool from her. I put her into the hospital bed and signal a doctor. He comes in to the room.
"What in the world happened here?" He asks, seeing the mess of tools on the ground, the IV out of Katniss's arm, my cut-up cheek, and a very distressed Katniss.

I explain to him everything that happened. He expertly replaces her IV and administers a sleeping medication. When he leaves I take her hand. The medicine is already starting to take effect.
"I'm so tired..." She says, her voice trailing.
"I know. You can sleep now. Everything's going to be okay." I say, quietly.

I absentmindedly run my fingers through her hair as she falls asleep.

I am so worried about her. I don't sleep for the rest of the night. Instead, I clean the mess we made and sit next to her bed, holding her hand. I cry for a little, wishing this had never happened. Then I decide to focus on her face.

She looks so peaceful in her sleep. She looks beautiful. I mean, she always does, but she looks so amazing when she's calm and asleep.

If only it could be like that in real life.