Always: A Hunger Games Fanfiction

Chapter 17

Katniss

Peeta is hurt. He can't walk, and I have no idea how we are going to escape this place. We will die. We have no food, or water.

Now, we are just sitting up against the wall, pressed against each other, trying to keep warm, in dead silence. My head is resting on his shoulder.

The thirst is beginning to come in. I thought about getting water from that huge lake we had just jumped into, but I don't know what's in it, and it's not like I carried purifier with me. 

My stomach grumbles faintly, but I ignore it. I'm good at fighting off hunger. I've had to do it so many times before.

After the games though, I've been getting used to being fed good food everyday. I guess I just have to teach myself how to go without food again. Water is not an option of going without, though.

I begin to think of the games again. The first time, at the very beginning. When I was just about dead, and I was lying on the ground. I  remember feeling mud, and moss. I remembered that you needed water for mud.

"Katniss," Peeta whispers, nudging me somewhat. I look up. I know he feels guilty for his foot. He shouldn't. It isn't even his fault.

"Hmm?" I ask. 

"You have to leave me, and find food. There's no other way," he says under his breath. Anger rushes through me for about a split-second.

"I'm not leaving you Peeta. I can't risk losing you again," I whisper the last sentence. His jaw clenches. He's thinking about the hijacking.

"We have to try. We could both end up alive if you do. If you don't, we're both guaranteed to be dead."

I think about his words. They are true, but if I leave, I could get caught, and we'd both die anyway. I'd rather die beside him than die alone. 

"A bullet is much faster than starving," he says quietly. My mind races. Those were almost Gale's exact words. The ones he told me to get me to feel okay about hunting when I was afraid to get caught. District 12, where you can starve to death in safety.

Peeta must've seen my reaction because he looks at me, confused. "I guess. . ." I croak. My voice is scratchy and hoarse from the lack of water.

"So you'll go?" he asks, his chin wobbling, his voice shaking. He doesn't want me to go, but he is risking it for me. Well, more for us. Just like he risked a beating by giving me bread years ago. Or when he risked his life for mine with Cato and the mutts. Just like always. 

"I don't know. . .I just. . ." I don't know what to say. I know if I don't, we'd die for certain. But I also know there is a possibility that if I went, we would die anyways. Or we could get split up. And that's just as bad as dying. I can't have that happen again. Not after last time.

"Katniss, trust me. You'll be ok. We both will," he says.

"What about your foot? What if it gets worse? I can't help you," I say. I search his eyes for something. I don't really know what. They are a clear, crystal blue. Not cloudy anymore.

"I can take care of myself. . ." he whispers. I know he hates this. Being injured, stopping us from moving on. He blames himself.

"I can't leave. I won't. We just had this discussion! I'm not leaving," I say, a little louder and harsher than I meant to. Peeta closes his mouth and looks away from me. I'm pushing it.

"Then I'm going to try to walk again," he whispers after a while. I have to process what he said for a minute.

"You can't." I say, matter-of-factly.

"I can try. I'm not as weak as you think," he retorts, bitterly. I feel threatened. I feel like I have to argue back. My temper is growing. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" I spit. He looks away again, and doesn't talk for a little while. "Peeta, I never said you were weak, I-"

"Your thinking about it though." he says.

"You can't tell me what I'm thinking about! You have no idea!"

"Forget it," he says. "I'm going to walk."

"I-" I don;t know what else to say. He can try, but I know it won't work. He'd fall again, just like before.

I stand before him. He put his hands on the wall to steady himself. He puts his good foot on the ground, and lifts the other up in the air. I suddenly have an idea. "A crutch," I whisper.

"What?" he asks. He didn't hear me.

"A crutch," I say, louder this time.

"Where are we supposed to get anything to use for a crutch?" he asks doubtfully.

"I'll be right back," I say. He nods and I jog down the tunnel, back to the lake we jumped into. I look down.

I can see a skinny enough log floating nearby. I could use the knife I had to carve it. I've always been keeping a knife with me lately.

I slip one foot on the top rung of the ladder and grab the sides. I slowly maneuver myself down onto the ledge.

The floating log is about 30 meters away from me. I jump back into the icy water. I cuss in my mind. I had just stopped shivering.

I dive under the water and swim back up continuously until I finally get to the log. I pull it towards me and push it in front of my body, kicking the water behind me.

I get back to the ledge after what seems like forever. I heave the log up, only to face another problem. How am I going to bring the log and myself back up to the tunnel?

It isn't that heavy, but I can't carry it while climbing or I would fall to my certain death. Just my luck, I see a jumbled heap of some type of cord in the corner of the other side of the ledge.

The landing got thinner and higher up as you walked. Of course, the rope is sitting on the thinnest part, getting brushed by the dark blue water.

I press myself and shuffle towards the rope. If I don't stay against the wall, the ledge will be too small and I'd fall of the cliff. I didn't even realized how high up I was until I looked down.

I'm almost to the cord. I reach out my hand but I can't quite grasp it. In just one more step I will be able to. But I can't really go one more step.

I inch myself towards the pile of rope, but slip. My left foot falls over the edge. I just barely catch myself.

Half of my body is hanging over the cliff. My hands hardly catch the rope, when my right hand loses its grip of the edge.

My breath gets caught in my throat. I'm about to fall into a mound of rocks below. They are looking pretty sharp. I breathe heavily, and try to pull myself back up.

I have an idea. I quickly tie the rope onto a sturdy rock and around my waist with one hand. If I fell, I'd only fall just above the rocks and be caught by the rope.

I don't fall though. I take a deep breath and grab a crevasse in the stone, somehow managing to pull myself up.

I jump to my feet and lean against the wall for support. I try not to look down, suddenly afraid of heights. I untie the rope from myself and the rock, and pull the rope over my shoulder.

I carefully walk down to the landing to retrieve the log again. I wish Peeta was here to help me.

I tie the cord around the log a few times, and the other piece on a rung if the ladder.

I climb up the wooden ladder and toss the log up to the top. I untie the rope from both the ladder and log to put in the backpack Peeta was carrying. The contents are probably ruined already, but we could always use a rope.

I carry the log, or branch, back to Peeta. When get there though, I almost collapse. I want to scream and cry. I knew this would happen. I knew it. What felt like hundreds of emotions race through me at once. .

Peeta is gone.

Sorry for the cliffhanger! I hope you liked it and be sure to VOTE! :)