It's A Jungle Out There

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

"So, yeah, there was a loose wire in the pig pen and whatever angle it was pointed out at it just caught his arm," I explain. Peeta sits on our kitchen counter, looking incredibly uncomfortable as my mother fusses around the kitchen, collecting things from various places to treat his arm with. Prim sits on the counter adjacent to Peeta's, swinging her legs merrily and watching mum carefully, probably memorising what was to be used to treat the wound.

"Was it rusty?" Mum asks, her voice echoed as her head is currently inside the cabinet below the sink.

I look to Peeta, unsure. "I-I don't think so," he replies. "The pen is just new, dad built it at the b-beginning of the week so . . ."

"Good, then I don't need to take you into A&E," says Mum. Even though she said she didn't have to take him into A&E, a panicked expression washes over Peeta's face. Mum smiles. "Would be your second visit in two days."

"Could have been a record," adds Prim.

I'm holding Peeta's arm almost possessively, holding a kitchen cloth against the bleeding wound. It's clear that being around a doctor and a trainee doctor is making Peeta nervous. I wonder how he was able to handle being in the hospital when Gale brought his fingers? Hopefully if they weren't able to notice his weight then, Mum won't notice it now.

"Katniss, lift the towel, I need to clean the wound," says mum. I do as she tells me and allow her to clean up the cut. "This may sting a little, Peeta. It's disinfectant." Mum drops some clear liquid into Peeta's wound and immediately Peeta winces in pain. His body shudders at the agony it causes and he reaches out towards me, almost subconsciously, with his free hand. I take his hand in both of mine and squeeze it tight.

"Prim, see if there's any painkillers in the medicine cupboard," I say.

Prim twists around to the cupboard behind her and rummages inside for painkillers. She tosses the box to mum who pops two pills out of the little plastic sheet. Since she sits beside the sink, Prim also fills a glass of water and passes it to me. "Take those before I start stitching," mum tells Peeta. "It might help with the pain."

Peeta looks unsure. He probably hasn't eaten today . . . would he be able to stomach pills? "Thank you Mrs Everdeen but I'm not very good at taking pills," he lies smoothly. "Gag reflex too sensitive and all that."

Mum glances at me and I nod, not even thinking twice about backing up his lie. "Do you think you'll be okay without it?" she asks.

"Here's hoping," Peeta says weakly. His face is ashen and I tighten my hands over his. I ignore the fact that I can feel the individual bones in his fingers without having to hold on all that tight.

The stitching process is quite interesting. I watch with avid curiosity as Mum cuts away the jagged flesh around the edges of the wound with a tiny scalpel and stitches it closed with a thin thread. Prim has even gotten off the counter to have a look. The only person not invested in the whole thing is Peeta, who is looking in a completely different direction and focusing on something that isn't the pain of the stitching. I'm still holding his hand, hoping that I am providing some form of comfort to him.

"Prim, can you do me a favour and wash the scalpel up in the bathroom. The rubbing alcohol such be under the sink," says Mum. "I want to talk to Katniss and Peeta alone for a moment."

I'm immediately alarmed by this and for once want Prim to hang around. Instead, she does as mum tells her too and takes the scalpel up to the bathroom. Mum doesn't talk for a moment. Instead she tidies up the mess she made in the hurry to stitch Peeta's wound before he bled out. She throws the kitchen towel into the washing machine and closes the lid before turning and pressing her back against it. She folds her arms and focuses on us with a cool, calculating expression.