Picture of Katniss
Most of the time they kept me asleep, but periodically they woke me and offered me food, trying to talk to me. I didn't eat and I didn't talk. I just sat there. I could hear the nurses whisper about me: "The poor boy has lost his mind." The hoses in my arm kept me alive and pumped in all kinds of weird drugs. With the drugs and no windows I lost track of time, not that it mattered. Nothing mattered anymore—nothing at all.
Sometimes the Avox girl showed up and tried to feed me; sometimes Haymitch and even Effie came by and tried to start a conversation with me. All the drugs they used made me feel so unusual—sometimes I couldn't stop laughing, sometimes I couldn't stop crying, but I never talked.
I was dead. I could feel it. I could remember the moment I died; in fact, I couldn't keep it out of my mind. Every minute or so I would relive the last seconds of my life, again reaching out blindly for Katniss, pulling her close, then black.
When people tried to talk to me I felt no compulsion to answer. When they asked how I felt I thought how silly the question was. Didn't they have anything better to do than ask a dead man how he feels? The drugs they pumped into me gave me all sorts of "feelings," but they didn't touch me. How can they? I am dead.
I remembered when I had feelings; I remembered my life perfectly. From the time I was so small I couldn't reach my mother's hand till now—I remember it all.
I remembered my first death. It was a little death, mind you: it was the death of hope. That occurred on the day I was reaped. Before I reached the stage my brain had gone through all the options, weighing my mind and strength against the arena and careers, and came to a perfectly logical conclusion: I was going to die. I had seen enough games to know how it worked; I was very strong and very smart, but it wouldn't be enough. I knew they were going to make me suffer, long and hard, and then make me die alone. My grandpa had taught me to never be limited to what people expect, so by the time I reached the car that took me to the train, I had a plan. I was going to kill myself. When we reached the train and I saw all the liquor I was ecstatic—I was going to drink myself to death. When they came to wake me up the next day, it would be too late.
Then I sat down next to Katniss, suddenly realizing how excited I was to be next to her. My infatuation with her was great, and even then at such a dire moment I wondered if she would let me hold her hand. She looked so determined. She looked at me like I was a piece of meat; that is, when I knew she could do it—she could be a victor. I knew she was prepared to kill every person—including me—who got between her and victory. So ended my first little death with a small rebirth. Yes, I was going to die, but if I added my strengths to Katniss' she would make it. I would have a victory: the Capitol would lose this one because they didn't even know what game I was playing.
After that everything worked so well. Yes, Haymitch thought I was the craziest man he had ever met, but he went along with it. Haymitch, Cinna, and I made a girl with the frostiest attitude possible without being a block of ice into a darling of the Capitol. Later I bullshitted my way into the careers and made them roam all over the arena, everywhere Katniss wasn't. When I fought Cato at the tree to save Katniss, I knew my part of the story was over. I went to hide somewhere and die; I had done all I could for Katniss. That was my second small death. But then through some miracle, she and I got together. I felt God's hand in this—how else was I to explain it?
The girl I was trying to save then saved my life three times, showing me how much she could care. When I was a little boy she had been the cutest girl ever, and I loved her. After her father's death, she was the strongest person I could imagine. She became like the big green mountains that surround district 12, a beautiful force of nature. When I entered the arena she was going to be my vengeance. Now she was my flesh. I would call her my sister, but that isn't right. It may be awkward, but she was my brother, my brother-in-arms. If all the armies of the Capitol came down on us, and she said, "Stand your ground!" I would stand my ground without question. So when the Capitol changed its mind and wanted one of us to die, I was more than ready: I had prepared myself from reaping day till now. Katniss' last bluff spoiled my plans. She had stolen from me my one chance at something I could call victory, but even more she had killed both the girl I loved and my brother-in-arms.
So now I sit here and do nothing, for you see, I am dead.
They fitted me with some weird mechanical leg. I could move the ankle, just like a real ankle, and I did that for a while. Looking at the stump which used to be my leg was so unreal; a living person would feel something, some emotion, but not me.
They wanted me to try walking, but I refused.
Then one day Haymitch came to my room. He came to my bed and unhooked my restraints. I sat up on the bed, confused at his intentions.
Haymitch visibly gathered himself up to tower over me. "Well, boy, you have decided life isn't worth living. It took you long enough to figure that out. But while you sit there feeling sorry for yourself, I thought I would come and see how much more miserable I could make you. You know, twenty-three people died terrible deaths in that arena, and they all wanted to live. And the only asshole to make it out doesn't want to live at all. I'll bet they're all getting a laugh at that.
"Or how about this one: a boy falls madly in love with a girl who couldn't care less and whose only thought is getting home to her sister so she won't starve. I hope you knew that every time she kissed you, I got some poor sap to pay for another parachute, because sheknew that.
"I bet you thought if you both survived she would marry you. You would have a dozen rug rats and live happily ever after. She never told you she never planned to marry and she definitely never planned to have any children. Romantic love just didn't register with her. Face it, kid, she owed you a debt, and that was your big hold on her. Yeah, you're right, kid—life sucks."
In a moment I was on my feet ready to fight. I was in a blind rage and wanted to crush Haymitch's skull. He had found every raw nerve in my body and stroked them with flame. I started falling over again and again as I tried landing a punch on Haymitch. Each time I felt terrible pain spring up from my leg. I just didn't know how to work my new limb. I should have felt humiliated by my performance. I should have felt frustrated at my ineptitude, but all I felt was rage. How dare he awake me from my death, bring me back to life, and make me face the truth!
"Hey, boy, maybe if you practiced once in a while with that leg I might be in some kind of danger right about now," Haymitch said as he easily dodged my attacks.
As the pain from my leg started to overcome my rage, I began to feel all the pain I had been suppressing from my heart. Haymitch had found every insecurity and real fear I had with the precision of a surgeon. "You're wrong! You're dead wrong! She may not have known her own feelings well, but she loved me—she did!"
"Maybe she did, but she's gone now!" Haymitch yelled, his face distorted with sadness. With that last verbal blow I lost all my steam and fell to the floor. I just cried my eyes out. Haymitch sat next to me, put his arm around me, and pulled a bottle from his vest. We both sat there sharing the bottle. The whiskey burned my throat badly, but I didn't care.
"Why am I alive?" I whispered.
"I don't know, kid. Hell, I never figured out why I'm alive," Haymitch mumbled with a despair that almost matched mine. He missed her too. When the bottle was empty he picked me up and helped me back into my bed.
"Boy, I have been a mentor for twenty-four games and led forty-seven great kids to their deaths. You're right—life sucks. But boy, you are my first . . . my first success. You are going to live or I'm going to kill you," Haymitch said with no sign of irony. He left, and his words rang in my ears until I understood that it was an offer, not a threat. He wanted me to know I had a way out, if I wanted it. I wondered how many times he had dreamed of having one himself.
My night was full of dreams. I dreamt of Katniss. I relived every moment I knew her, every word and every motion of her face. When I got to the part where she took the berries, there were two of me standing before Katniss. One Peeta was about to take the fruit, and the other Peeta yelled at the first, "Don't let her do it!"
As I awoke, I rolled over. They hadn't redone the restraint. My arm touched a belly. I felt it rise and fall slowly. I heard someone breathe, and I smelled Katniss's hair. I lay perfectly still, scared that anything I did might break the spell. I was crazy, but I didn't care. After a long time I couldn't help myself: my hand started to wander. I felt her little slot of a belly button. My hand moved up to feel her floating ribs, and I started counting them.
"You know I'm awake," Katniss said. As my hand shot back to my side I pushed my eyes shut, afraid that I'd open them and that would somehow break the spell, but I wanted to see her so badly.
"Sorry, can I open my eyes?"
"No, please don't," Katniss replied.
"You're just in my head, aren't you?" I asked. It wasn't much of a question. I wanted to believe she was real, that she was here with me, but what Haymitch had told me had changed everything. My rational mind knew she wasn't real, and she didn't want me to open my eyes to see nothing and prove it, but my rational mind was in a lopsided battle with my soul, and it was bound to lose.
She grabbed my hand, laying it on her breast. It was so impossibly soft, but colder than the rest of her, almost chilled. And in the middle of the breast was a little rock-hard nipple, slowly moving up and down with each breath.
"Katniss, how is this possible? You . . . you aren't here."
"I don't know. But Peeta, I need you to believe in me, please. Listen, Peeta, I can prove I am who I say I am. Ask someone about when you killed the girl from District 8 by the campfire. I was there and you didn't know that."
"You saw that?" I said suddenly, ashamed of her seeing me murder. I had killed people! I was a murderer and would be one for the rest of my life, and everyone knew it! The thought of the people I love, especially her, seeing that was almost unbearable.
"I was in a tree right above your heads," Katniss answered.
"Why can't I see you?" I asked abruptly.
"I may still be Katniss, but I'm different. I guess I'm technically not human anymore, but I'm still Katniss." It almost sounded like a question. She really doesn't know what she is?
"Did you hear what Haymitch said to me?"
Katniss rolled away; I wasn't touching her anymore. I could feel her lying on her side on the edge of the bed.
"He said you had faked it," I continued. "He said you didn't love me, that it all was for the cameras." I didn't want to know the answer, so I'm not sure why I asked. I just had nowhere to hide anymore, I guess.
Katniss' voice cracked as she answered. "Peeta, what do you want from me? I didn't just offer everything for you—I gave it all. I don't know anything about love. I don't know how to love. Every ounce of my being has been given to keep my family alive; I would do anything to protect them, anything! But in the end, I had a choice to make, and I chose to risk them for you. And Peeta, remember: I've promised to stay with you forever. What would you call it when someone gives all and promises to stay forever?"
"Love, I guess." We just lay there, not talking for the longest time. In my heart I knew she loved me, even if she didn't realize it, but it hurt to think she didn't feel the same romantic way about me.
I recognized mine for her.
I reached deep inside myself and said, "If we both had survived, you wouldn't have married me, would you?"
She paused. "No. Haymitch was right. I had already decided never to marry or have children, but Peeta, you and I would always be together in one form or another. Maybe we would be lovers. I'm certain we would be friends, and I would never suffer you any harm." I could hear her crying, but we had both run out of words. After a while, I rolled over and cuddled her. I felt her body jerk as she sobbed. I held her hand and pushed my pillow under her head.
"Please, don't cry anymore," I said.
"Peeta, you need to get out of here. You promised to protect my family. You can't stay here."
"They think I'm crazy because I talk to a dead girl."
"Peeta, it is still just a game. Remember, if you don't play along our families will suffer! Please, Peeta, just play along, okay?"
I made my peace with my insanity and said, "Okay, I will. I'll do my best sane-person impersonation, but I want to see you."
"Peeta, you're a good artist, right? I'll tell you what: I'll pose for you tonight, late tonight."
We lay there and for a long time and just talked. She told me the true story of Prim and Lady. I told her about how the star-crossed lover bit was my idea, and how Haymitch almost choked to death when I told him what I wanted to do.
Next thing I knew, the Avox girl was trying to wake me. She had a bowl of soup in her hands. Katniss was gone, like she was never there, and I guess that was right. Maybe she was just in my head, but it was Katniss in my head, not some imaginary part of me. I ate the soup and smiled at the Avox. It was time I started the biggest act I have ever performed: acting normal. The Avox girl looked at me for the first time like I was crazy. All those days I wouldn't eat or talk, she accepted me; to her that was normal. Now she thought I was crazy. I hoped I could fool the doctors.
After that I started talking to the doctors and asking for food. Later I asked them to help me practice with my new leg. For the first time I saw the ugly stump of a thing as part of me. I felt like crying, but didn't; I needed to look ready to go home. The nurses and doctors seemed content, and I even joked a little with them. In Panem everyone must be two-faced, but I was going to be the grand master of two-faces.
After the exercises, I pretended to take a nap, and I silently prayed for a half-hour. I knew I had to hide all my negative emotions from the doctors and nurses. From here on out, every visible action must be of a sane person. In my prayers I raged against God: I told him how sadistic He had been to me, how I hated Him. Every time I said that to Him, an image of Katniss pulling me from my hiding spot would appear in my mind. That moment had been and still is the most beautiful moment I have ever had. He had not said a word, but He won the argument.
An hour later I asked one of the doctors for charcoals and a large pad of drawing paper, to give me something to do. When he came back I drew a picture of him, and then I drew all the nurses. They all got a kick out of it, but I was really practicing to draw Katniss. I couldn't wait to see Katniss!
Then a nurse came by and turned out the lights. I felt so excited. Katniss had only appeared when I was about to wake up, so I tried to get some sleep. But how could I when I was so eager? Lying there in the dark, I argued with myself.
Part of me said Katniss must have been a dream or an illusion. She was just part of me, but I couldn't convince myself. I lay there counting and counting until I finally fell asleep somewhere above 900.
I woke with a start. The room was deep black and I could only see a few blinking lights from the instruments. I could feel someone moving around in my room, something moving in front of the lights.
"Katniss, is that you?" I asked, but there was no reply. I could feel a cool breeze on my back and I shivered. When I gazed into the dark, I could barely make out two eyes looking back. Slowly, I could distinguish a face behind the eyes.
"Hi, Peeta. Are you ready to draw me?" Katniss' voice seemed to drift across the room.
"My God, I'd forgotten how beautiful you are."
Katniss did a small roll of her eyes. "Peeta, you're always trying to sweet-talk me. Just draw my picture." I really couldn't see what she was wearing—only her face was in sight. I pulled over what I guessed was a heart monitor and used its feeble light to see the charcoals and paper. I started drawing immediately.
"You never trusted me, did you? You always thought what I said was a trap, didn't you?" I said as my hands carefully started drawing.
"Yes, at first. Well, I guess for a long time I felt that way. I certainly didn't believe you loved me from the time you were five years old."
"But you believe me now, right?"
"Yes, Peeta, I finally see you as you really are." We talked for hours as I worked on my drawing. When morning came I found I had fallen asleep, but the picture was done. Looking at the picture, I couldn't believe the work of art I had created. It was more exquisite than anything I had ever done. Katniss in the picture wasn't the starving girl I knew in the cave, but the healthy girl I knew before. She seemed so strong, intelligent, and determined—the woman I fell in love with.
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