Always: A Hunger Games Fanfiction

Chapter 123

Katniss

When my eyes open from a restless sleep, I reach my hand to the opposite side of the bed to find nothing but a slightly warm pile of unmade sheets. Peeta stands, dressed in his bakery uniform, ready to exit out the door. He sees that I'm awake and moves back onto the bed to kiss me on my forehead. "I didn't mean to wake you," he says. I shake my head, pushing a blond lock of hair from his face. "I know how tired you've been with the baby."

"It's alright," I say, touching my finger tips to my large belly. It's been almost 8 months since I found out that I was pregnant; seven since Peeta's last flashback. We've hardly fought since. "Do you have to go today?"

"You know I wish I could stay here with you. But I'm the only one working today and I have to take so much time off when the baby comes," he explains, twisting a strand of my hair around his finger. I sigh dramatically and shut my eyes tight. Peeta kisses me goodbye, his hand on my stomach. "I love you. And our baby."

"I love you too," I mumble softly as he leaves the room, guilt plastered across his face. After I hear the door close downstairs, I try my hardest to go back to sleep. I do, eventually, but only for several hours before I'm awaked by the loud wails of Buttercup beside me, telling me that he's hungry. I scowl at him, but he doesn't seem to care. He jumps off the bed and waits for me at the door, eager for his daily meal of entrails and old leftover food. I swing my legs off the side of the bed, not bothering to change into new clothes. I tie my hair back into a knot, as I'm too tired to even attempt at braiding it. 

Downstairs, sits a few slices of fresh bread and several bright red strawberries Peeta must have picked from the woods. I know that he feels sorry for me. I've been miserable for the past few weeks, and I think that he believes it's partially his fault. He's been doing everything he possibly can for me, and I know he hates leaving for work.

I take the tray of food and place it as high up as I can, protecting it from Buttercup, who eyes it carefully. I'm not hungry, but I know I probably will be later. 

I go back to the livingroom, the muddy yellow colored cat trailing close behind me. He's been more protective of me lately also. I think that he knows something is different. I'm not quite sure how much longer Buttercup will really live, but I do think that he will like the baby. He or she may even remind him of Prim. I hope so. Prim was like Peeta, and I so hope that our child will be like Peeta instead of me. Of course, I will still teach him or her to hunt and survive in the woods, although now the majority of the children in the district are healthy and happy, with no need to even consider going hunting. And I know Peeta will teach them how to bake and paint and how to be kind to everyone, a trait I have most definetely not mastered. 

I take a seat on the old, faded brown couch in our living room. I hate having to use extra effort for something as simple as sitting down, but I know that it'll be over soon. I can't decide if I'm relieved or even more terrified. Buttercup does the best he possibly can to climb up onto the cushion beside me. I swear he's glaring at me for not helping him. "We're a mess, aren't we?" I ask, running my fingers through his thick fur. 

I'm sitting down for just over a minute, when I feel something. At first I think it's just the baby moving. It happens often, despite my silent protests. I still haven't grown comfortable with the feeling, but I don't dread it as much as I used to. But no, this sensation is different. I am paralyzed with fear, my fingers hanging onto the side of the couch, putting indents into the soft material. Buttercup senses that something is wrong because he begins pressing his nose against my thigh, purring softly, as if he's attempting to make me feel better. I almost laugh, but the fear has overcome me. I hardly believe that this is the same cat that I used to hate, the cat that used to hiss viciously whenever it saw me. Now look at him, doing everythig he can to protect me, just as he used to do for my little sister. Now, more than ever, I wish she was here. She would be able to help me through this, tell me what's going on. The feeling grows, sending more waves of panic coursing through my body.