The Hunger Games- What If's (Fan Fiction)

Chapter Sixteen

   I slowly open my eyes, but as soon as I do, I wish that I hadn't. My head hurts and aches like nothing I've ever felt before. I can feel the steady pulse of my heartbeat throughout my entire body like a painful little jolt every five milliseconds.

   The light around me is blinding. I look up towards the ceiling and notice that they're all high-vaulted. I have absolutely no idea where I am. I attempt to turn my head to get a better look around, but as soon as I try to, I have to stifle a little yell; I was not going to try that again any time soon.

   I hear footsteps coming toward me. Who could it be? I don't make any attempt to look. After all, I know how that would turn out. . . .

   "Katniss? How are you feeling?" my mother's voice is crisp and clean to my ears.

   "I can't move my head, it hurts too much," I groan a little at the hand my mother puts to my pounding forehead, "What happened?"

   My mother sighs. "Well, whatever you were remembering when we were outside the house . . ." So that's where I am ". . .made you fall over. Your head hit the ground, you have a small cut on the back of it. Don't worry, you'll be fine. After that you passed out, so Prim and I both carried you in here. You're extremely light, we'll have to fix that," she says with a small smile.

   I lift my foot from the cushioning fabric of the couch I'm laying on. I put it back down and pick it up again, enjoying the small sticking sensation.

   "It's made of leather. Cow's hide," my mother says softly, lifting up my foot from the cool fabric once again so she can sit.

   "Cows. . . ." I say dreamily. I'm aware that my mother has set my foot down on her lap and is stroking it carefully. I try not to tense up, to kick her away. I still can't completely trust her; it's completely selfish of me, yes, but I just can't help it. I can not trust her.

   "Katniss!" Prim cries and runs to my side. She wedges her arms under my neck, causind my head to jerk and me to yelp out in pain.

   "Ah!" I shout.

   Prim shoots back. "Oh, I, I'm sorry Katniss! I'm so sorry! Are you okay? How are you feeling? Is everything alright? Does anything hurt? Do you need anything?"

   I chuckle softly at all of Prim's questions. "I'm fine. Thank you, Prim," Prim stands up straighter and brushes herself off.

   "Right. Now, do you need anything?" she asks rather seriously.

   "Yes," I say simply.

   "What is it?" Prim asks, leaning forward.

   "I'm not telling," Prim throws her arms in the air.

   "For goodness' sake, Katniss! Just tell me what you need! I am a nurse in training, after all!" Prim announces proudly.

   "Are you now? Well then, you'll have to learn to cope with aggravating customers. Here, I'll tell you what. Why don't we play twenty questions to see if you can guess what it is I want?" Prim gives me a playful glare.

   "You're on!"

   For the next ten minutes, Prim asks both relevant and irrelevant questions concerning what it is that I want. In the end, she discovers that I want a glass of water. She promptly delivers it to me.

   "Thank you, nurse Primrose," I smile.

   "You are most welcome, patient Katniss," Prim flashes me one of her brilliant smiles.

   "Um, nurse Primrose?" I ask as she turns to walk away.

   "Yes, patient Katniss?"

   "Well, could you help me lift my head up so I can drink this?" Prim nods and walks over to me. She grabs a pillow from a different couch and slowly lifts my head up. Her hands are so steady; yet her touch is gentle. Before I know it- and with little pain- my head and shoulders are propped up from the couch.

   "Is there anything else I can do for you, patient Katniss?" Prim asks with one eyebrow raised.

   "Yes. Relax, please," Prim giggles and I smile at her. I take a drink from my crystal glass and sigh contently. "What are we going to do now?"

   "What do you mean dear?" I almost flinch at the sound of my mothers' voice. Somehow, I forgot that she was still here.

   "Well, what about Gale and Hazelle and all the kids? I know Gale too well, he won't just accept money, though we have plenty enough. He's working in the mines now, isn't he? I'm going to miss hunting with him. Anyway, he didn't seem too happy with me when we left. I mean, I know Peeta and I were in 'love,' but that was just an act. . . ?" Somehow my words had formed into a question when I mention Peeta's name.

   Prim's eyes get really wide. "You mean you were faking it?" she seems stunned.

    "Yea, we were," I chuckle, "It was pretty convincing, wasn't it?" Only at that moment, a tear slid down my cheek and I knew the pain was showing, trying to pry away at the mask I try to wear whenever I think about that boy. That stupid, idiotic, lovely, wonderful boy with the bread.

   "Oh no, honey, he wasn't faking," I glance at my mother to see the confusion that's written all over her face.

   "I know," I say so quietly it's almost inaudible. I'm fully crying now, complete with the deep gasps that you can't recapture your breath from. I try to sob silently, but it's no use. The tears continue to flow, and the pounding in my head only gets worse, becoming a single beat as everything slurs together. My entire body shakes under the weight of my gasps, my head rising and crashing into the pillow with every gasp. Prim comes over to hold my hand.

   "Katniss, Katniss . . ." is all she can say.

   "It's all . . . my . . . fault!" I manage between gasps.

   "No, it's not your fault at all! Nothing is your fault!" my mother leans over and strokes my face with cool fingers.

   "You have no . . . idea what . . . it . . . was like. Every . . . s-second I was . . . terr-rified, yet I-I . . .  couldn't sh-how . . . it. And yes, . . . it was m-m-my . . . fault. It was . . . my fault that . . . P-Peeta and Rue . . . a-nd- . . ." I barley manage to force out with the little oxygen left in my lungs hold before my mother stops me.

   "NO!" my sobs suddenly stop, my body goes limp. I only stare at my mother, never having heard her shout in so many years. I almost forgot what it was like. "NONE of it was your fault, Katniss! I KNOW that you went through pain, and grit, and sadness, but you have GOT to get over it! You'll live the rest of your days like Haymitch, always drunk so you don't have to face the truth! You don't want to be like that, I know you don't. Katniss, please!"

   All is silent. Nobody moves, nobody speaks, nobody breathes. Then all at once, we all inhale as a whole. The entire room breaths with us, taking in deep, desperate breaths that are nearly impossible to hold on to. I close my eyes and pray that everything is a dream. I'm not actually here, I was never in the Hunger Games, I don't live in District 12, I'm not controlled by the Capitol. . . .

   I open my eyes. Nothing. It's just like it was before I closed them. The same high vaulted ceilings, the same hand in mine, the same pillow under my head, the same mother sitting beside me, the same couch under me, the same Capitol ruling over us silently, as if everything we do and say they can see and hear.

   "Can I sleep?" I ask my mother.

   My mother rises, setting my feet down onto the now warm fabric. "No, you have a concussion; you shouldn't sleep. I'll go blend some herbs for you so the pain will go away. Wait here."

   "Like I could move,"is what I wanted to say, but I merely squeezed Prim's hand. "Go help her," I whisper.

   "Okay," she says.

   My hand is dropped and left hanging from my dangling arm, my fingers cold. As Prim leaves the room, a cold breeze washes over me, urging me awake. I wait for the herbs and wonder how Gale feels. I'd have to see him soon. He's got to understand. He has to. Because one of us has to; I sure don't.