What If

Chapter Nineteen:

Katniss

I awoke to the familiar sight of a District Thirteen hospital room. A shiver went through my body as I realized that my neck was in a cast.

"Don't try to talk."

I turned to see Prim lingering near the end of my bed. She looked defeated. "It'll just make the pain worse."

Then tears started to fill my eyes. So, it hadn't been a nightmare. After months of separation I had finally gotten Peeta back, and he had attacked me. He had choked me until I was unconscious. Why—how? Oh, Peeta.

The baby, I thought, and instantly placed a hand to my stomach. Are they okay?

Prim clearly noticed my dismay and moved closer to me, stroking my hair gently. "Shh, the doctors said that they're alright, Katniss. You just need more bed rest."

I hated bedrest. It meant more thinking, which sound certainly be about Peeta, a subject I clearly wanted to avoid.

A few minutes passed. Prim stood at my side, saying nothing. Her presence was comforting despite her lack of words.

Then the doors swung open, clearly word of my consciousness had gotten out. In walked Plutarch and Haymitch, both avoiding my gaze.

"We're here to explain what's happened to Peeta," Plutarch said gravely. Prim nodded, clearly speaking on my behalf. "He's been tortured in a method unique to the capitol. It's called hijacking."

Plutarch then went on to explain hijacking, Haymitch occasionally piping in. The two of them explained that hijacking occurred when a person was pumped with harmful tracker jacker venom, which I've had the misfortune of experiencing.

"The capitol played all of the video clips they had of the two of you, which was alarmingly overwhelming," Plutarch said. "As they played these videos they injected Peeta with painful venom, forcing these memories to become distorted and portray you in a negative light."

They then went on to explain that any moment Peeta and I shared was now replaced with a harsh memory clouded with venom. That meant he hated me, that he thought I was a mutt designed by the capitol. No, he didn't just hate me—he feared me.

"What about the baby?" Prim asked, as if she was reading my mind.

Plutarch sighed. "Well, we're having Peeta be treated by the best psychologists and mental health professionals District Thirteen has to offer. At this point, with the limited conversations they've had with him, it appears as if he doesn't remember."

"Why don't you remind him?" Prim asked.

"Well—all of the doctors seem to think that'll just set him off again," Haymitch interjected. "They also believe that he will think we're lying to him, which will lead to more distrust than he already has towards them."

"Can it be reversed?"

Plutarch sighed, staring at his shoes. "Well, there's very little research into hijacking, and no reported attempts to reverse its effects. But I promise you, we will try. Any more questions?"

Even if I could talk I wouldn't know what to say.

Prim dismissed them, which I was thankful for. Then she turned her attention to me again, but I had began shivering. "At least when the doctors take your cast off you won't be so cold."