"PEETAAAA!" I scream at the top of my lungs and my knees buckle. I slowly lower myself to the blood splayed on the tile floor, hard sobs over wracking me completely.
The baby is coming. The baby is coming early.
"PEETA!" I scream again and place one of my hands over my blood on this white tile floor.
I hear shuffling and the door behind me swing open. I start violently shaking and a contraction spreads in a millisecond through my body. The fire burning so much I feel I'll die.
I bend over cradling my belly and my grasp becoming tighter on the sink rim.
Peeta's hands shakily makes contact with my back and I wail, the pain a thousand times worse than what I had experienced not even a mere 10 minutes ago.
"Call Rachel." I make out through my sobs and wails to him. He does as directed and through my squinting eyes, I can make out more blood and liquid coming out of me and landing on the floor.
I regain my breathing after the pain subsides in an instant and I plead to my child.
"You're early but please live. Please live."
"Hi Rachel. Yeah, Katniss' water just broke. But there's blood." I hear Peeta say as he enters back in. I sit down and lean back against his kneeling body as he continues to speak to my midwife.
"Okay. I - I'll bring her over now. See you soon." Peeta finishes and sits me up. "It's going to be okay." Peeta murmurs before leaving me again. I just stare at my blood. My hands protectively hold my big belly, knowing it won't be there soon.
Peeta enters back in seconds later and I feel him wrap a blanket around me. He picks me up bridal style and I hug his neck, burning my head into his shoulder.
As soon as we leave the premises of the bathroom, we head straight to the hospital. We hadn't even packed a bag for me or the baby yet. Peeta had only just finished the nursery.
"W-What about the mess?" I stutter, yet I remains mumbled as I speak into his neck.
"That's not important. You and this baby's health are right now." He answers and he collects his backpack and speeds out the door.
Peeta's breathing becomes uneven and I notice his hands shake. We're both scared.
We enter a chilly District 10 as we leave our apartment building, now glad Peeta wrapped me in a blanket. It takes 8 minutes to the hospital, I'm hoping another contraction won't come till I'm confirmed in labour.
Peeta runs to the best of his ability all the way there, not thinking about taking the car. Sobs still continue to escape my mouth and my arms wrap tighter around him. Soon enough, Peeta is at the stairs of the hospital, where I'll give birth to our child.
Another contraction shows up and I scream as we enter the entrance of the hospital, I know alerting the receptionists.
"PLEASE HELP MY WIFE IS IN LABOUR!" Peeta shouts and I grip onto his blonde hair.
"Make it stop." I plead, referring to the pain. Peeta kisses my head before the sound of wheels stop in front of us. I feel Peeta lower me onto the hospital be, murmuring that it will be okay in my ear. He disconnects my hands from behind his neck yet I keep a tight grasp on one of his hands.
The bed slowly moves and through my tear filled eyes I can make out Peeta running along side the doctors and me, fear written across his face.
We turn into a room and in seconds in attached to 3 drips and my clothes are removed. Two straps with monitors are placed across my stomach and Rachel comes in.
"Rachel." I exasperate and Peeta's head snaps to her. She approaches us. She frowns at me.
"Prepare for a long night Katniss. The baby is going to take a while." Rachel sadly states and my face falls. Rachel walks off to check me, confirming I have a long way to go before our child is revealed to us.
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6 hours later and I'm still waiting. Contraction after contraction. Grasp after grasp. Scream after scream. Reassurance and reassurance. Comfort after comfort.
Rachel soon props my legs up and grabs a seat to sit at the end of the bed. "You're ready to push." She informs me and Peeta stands up from his uncomfortable looking seat and leans over the side of the bed to kiss me.
"You can do this." Peeta encourages and I don't nod in reply because I can't.
"On the next contraction I want to push as hard as you can okay Katniss?" I nod and reposition my hands grip in both Peeta's hand and the bed sheets.
The pain comes and I lean forward, giving all my effort into getting this baby out. I wail and squeeze Peeta's hand harder. "Keep going Katniss." Rachel instructs and I do as she says. "And stop!" I exasperate and collapse back onto the pillow. I take deep breaths and close my eyes. Peeta removes the sweat soaked strands of hair sticking to my forehead and gives my temple a quick kiss.
"I can see the head already Katniss. Same thing again, wait for the contraction." Rachel exclaims and I turn to look at Peeta.
"I'm not going anywhere." Peeta reminds me and I choose to nod. In a matter of a few minutes the whole process repeats itself. I become more weak and more sore. I find it all so horrible.
"Stop!" Rachel states and I start sobbing again. "I can't do it again. Knowing I'm killing it as I push." I admit and Peeta hugs me to the best of his ability.
"Our child is going to make it. You can do it sweetie."
"You don't know that." I retort.
"So far the baby is doing fine Katniss. The had pushing is nearly done." I kiss Peeta's neck before I cry in pain and push again. The baby is fine. The baby is fine.
I stop when I feel all the hard pushing done and soon enough I hear the words.
"It's a girl!" Rachel exclaims and I cover my mouth with my hand. All the excitement leaves when I don't hear my daughter cry.
"Rachel?" I ask her but she whisks away with doctors to the other side of the room. "ICU. She's not breathing." I make out and gasp.
"I killed her." I murmur. "I killed her Peeta." I tell my husband. "I KILLED HER AS I WAS PUSHING! SHE'S DEAD! SHES DEAD PEETA! IT'S ALL MY FAULT!" I shout and sob at him as I grip onto his shirt. I turn to see my daughter being taken out of my sight and to the ICU.
"NO! WE LOST HER PEETA! I KILLED HER PEETA! I KILLED HER!" I exclaim and Peeta hugs me. I can't believe it, our joy has gone out of reach of us.
"I killed her."