Pure Torture: a Hunger Games Fanfiction

Chapter 100

Peeta

"Well I towed you from the wreck
Of dimming shadows in my head
Only yesterday." -Houses

"Are you sure she's ready?" I ask, for the millionth time today.
"Yes, Mr. Mellark. We're sure she's ready now. We've made sure every precaution is taken to ensure her safety. There are doctors on hand in case anything happens. For the last time, everything is ready. Everything is fine," Aurelius says. I can tell he's getting tired of me asking, but I don't care.

--

Katniss

They've had me try walking a couple of times. It's surprising how many muscles it takes to walk and how it hurts my neck badly to do so.
But I do it anyway, since I need to use the bathroom and they insist on me getting up and out of bed, even if it's just to sit in the chair.

Doctor Lucia came in earlier today to check on the baby one last time. She keeps on calling it our miracle baby, which it seems like both of our children are. They survived so much before even being born. Willow... Willow survived my seizures and my never ending PTSD and me almost terminating. And this little one, well, they're already survived a brain infection and harmful medications and now Peeta's episode. I don't know how we've been both so lucky and so unfortunate.

A nurse helps me out of bed while Doctor Wilson observes. My legs feel fine, only a bit shaky. Since I'm loaded with anti inflammatory drugs and pain killers, even my neck feels alright. It's not my neck that's bothering me right now. It's Peeta.

Sure, I love him. I've forgiven him 10 times over although we haven't spoken yet, but what if he goes off again? And what will I do when all he can say to me is how sorry he is? How will I even communicate to him?

The nurse helps me walk to the wheelchair they're prepared for me. She holds her arm out for me to steady myself, but I only use it to help myself get up. I can walk just fine for now. I want to tell them I don't want a wheelchair, so I point to it.
"We can't let you walk until we understand your neck injuries to the full extent. I'm sorry," she says.

I just stare blankly and sit down in the chair slowly. The nurse brings a blanket and puts it over my bare legs.
"Better?" She asks.
I blink in response.

There's a mirror in the hospital room. I can just about see myself in it from where the wheelchair sits. The brace is a gray plastic with a darker foam of some sort on the inside. I can see some bruises that peek out of the brace and a little bit of a welt left on my cheek. My face looks pale, but I don't care much. It always has been. But my hair... It's a mess. I can't help but be bothered by it, despite how little I've ever cared about how I look.

The nurse must notice, because in a few seconds I feel a comb in my hair.
My eyes lock onto hers in the mirror since I can't turn my head to look at her.
"I figured that you'd want your hair to look a bit more presentable, considering that you're about to see your husband again," the nurse says.
I smile almost imperceptibly.

Her hands start weaving my hair into a braid and I flinch. Nobody's braided my hair except for me since... Well, since Prim was alive.
"Relax. I know what I'm doing. My sister taught me how to braid like this after you made it so iconic in your Games," she says.

For some reason, the image Cato's bloodied face pours into my mind. Clove's eyes rolling back into her head, the way the blood blossomed out of Rue's chest, the way Glimmer looked after she was stung to death, how Marvel looked as the arrow went through his abdomen, the way he fell to his knees, the way he used his last seconds of life to take it out of him.
He was my first kill.

"Katniss? Are you alright?" The nurse asks.
I snap out of it. I blink as an answer.
"You ready?" She asks.
I blink again. I look one last time in the mirror to see the braid completed and perfect. I haven't had my hair  braided this well in years.