Ashes Blow Away

Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: PREGNANT

I am at the local store the moment I am able to fathom anything. I stuff several pregnancy tests into my shirt. A little stealing can't hurt. 12 is small, word travels fast, and I don't want anyone to suspect anything.

It must have been defective. Yes, that is it. It was old, it had been sitting there for ages. I can't be pregnant.

When I get home, I drink as much water as I can, waiting impatiently for it to take action. Finally, when I have to go, I take three tests and place them carefully on the bathroom counter.

And I wait.

Waiting is painful, I realise.

I do everything I can do make the time go quicker. I drink more water, I run up and down the stairs twenty times, I even turn to watering the primroses - which have come back in full bloom each year, I might add - but I still end up back in the bathroom, waiting.

When at last the longest ten minutes of my life are over, I rise to my feet. The word NO is imprinted in my mind, so much so that when I read the tests, my stomach sinks out of expectation.

But then I read them. Really read them.

Positive. Positive. Positive. All three are positive.

I'm pregnant.

At first, I'm sure it cannot be true. I read all the boxes again, making sure that I've read the instructions right, which I have. And then I re-read the tests, and I've read those correctly too.

I am pregnant.

I sink to the ground in confusion, head falling into my hands. Am I really pregnant? I must be. After all these years, I'm really pregnant.

When the initial shock has come, I hear the whistling through the open window. Peeta. If I can hear him whistling, it means in about thirty seconds, he will be up here, looking for me.

Hastily, I shove the first test in my jean pocket, then realise I don't have room for them all. So I sweep them off the counter and into the toilet, and I flush. There is a gurgle, then one test goes down, two boxes. . . another test. Another one. And then the last box.

I sigh in relief as the door opens.

" Katniss?"

" I - I'm just coming!" I call in reply.

I hear Peeta's footsteps as he walks into the kitchen. Then I let out another sigh of relief, and look down at my flat stomach.

" You and I, we're going to make it through this," I whisper. " For Peeta, you have to live."

I'll tell Peeta soon, if the baby's still here. But for now, it has returned. I can feel it. Like a candle in the dark. A glow in the cold. A whisper in the silence.

Hope.

Against all odds, I keep quiet. I stop my lips from grinning, I stop my hands from shaking. I take a test everyday, and surprisingly, my baby is still with me. Inside of me.

After about a week though, I have passed the doting mother stage, and the fear kicks in. I shiver. I can't stop my hands from shaking, my legs too. I can't stop my teeth from chattering, and my lips pulling back in a grimace.

I have regular nightmares, but this time about a faceless baby. All I see is a pouty smile, a tiny leg, before my baby is ripped away from me. I always wake up screaming. I lie to Peeta and tell him the dreams are about Prim, and then the comforting turns to kissing. I don't let it get much further than that, which also seems to confuse him.