Finding the Missing Piece: Book 2

Chapter Ninety-One

Peeta POV-

"Damn!" I involuntarily scream as I idiotically slice open three of my fingers while cutting up stew ingredients.

My hands fly back, hitting the rack of hanging pots and pans above the island and they sling onto the floor along with my blood.

Katniss POV-

I run down stairs, still in my underwear as I find Peeta leaned over the sink, blood soaking his hands and the surrounding kitchen space and splattered across the floor.

"Peeta!" I screech as I run over to him picking up his bloody hand and examining it.

As my skin makes contact with his, blood soaks my hand too. His skin is split into two big chunks across his three middle fingers and I can't help but cringe with him.

"I'm okay. I just need you to help me clean it." He says in obvious pain.

"Oh my goodness. What did you do?" I ask, though I already know he cut himself.

My adrenaline is pumping and I feel light headed at the sight of his wound and the blood.

"I was cutting those potatoes and carrots and stuff and I wasn't paying attention and I cut right through my hand." Peeta says, clenching his jaw.

I bite my lip and hold my breath, rubbing his back with my clean hand, trying to figure out what to do next.

"It really hurts, Katniss." He says with a pale face. He's lost a lot of blood so far and it just keeps flowing.

I turn the sink on lightly, cold water flows from the tap as I take his hand and wash off the blood, careful to touch. I take a wet washcloth and carefully begin wiping off the white counter and dumping the contents of our meal into the trash can. I pick up the blood splattered pots and pans and put them in the sink, opposite of where Peeta stands in pain.

I wash the blood off my hands and carefully take Peeta's still bleeding wound.

"It's not stopping. We need to get you to a doctor, Peeta." I say, wanting to puke.

I don't take blood well.

Or any injuries to be honest.

"No, I'll be okay, just go get some bandaids. It'll be fine." He insist.

"No, Peeta. It's not stopping. Bandages are not going to help. I'm taking you to the doctor." I say sternly, wanting him to know I'm serious.

He shakes his hesd and stares at his wound and clenches his teeth, "I'm not going." He says.

"You are." I say.

"I'm going to be fine." He says.

"Do you know how many times you've dragged me to the doctor even though I didn't want to go? You're going." I say, glancing down at the sink that's already completely filled with blood again.

"Katniss, stop. It just needs a bandaid, it's not bad."

"Peeta, you've been bleeding for ten minutes and you've lost a lot of blood, you need to go. If it would've stop, I wouldn't worry but it won't stop."

Peeta shakes his head stubbornly, I don't know if it's my lack of sleep or what but I snap.

"You're going. I'm going to bring you some clothes and I'm going to help you put on your shoes too because you're going to the doctor." I say, turning the corner to head upstairs.

I get up the stairs, out of breath and flustered. I pull him out a T-shirt and some jeans and myself some too. I throw my hair up and quickly dress and head back down stairs to Peeta who is still standing at the sink with a bloody hand and an even paler face.

I set the clothes on the counter and he just looks at me.

"Here. I'm going to wash the blood off your hand then I'm going to wrap it in a wash cloth while I help you get dressed." I say, turning the sink on. Peeta nods, his teeth clenched as I carefully wash away the blood from his hand. I take a hand towel from the drawer and wrap it tightly around Peeta's hand.

He laughs a little bit as I do this, knowing that it's disgusting me but I just keep a straight face as I wash the remaining blood off my hand.

I take his jeans and unbutton and unzip them and hold them out, I bend down and Peeta just looks at me.

"Here, I'll bend down and just lean on me and I'll help you." I say in an awkward position.

Peeta puts his good hand on my back as I lean over and help him slip his pants on, one leg at a time. I help him pull them up and get them over everything. I awkwardly zip them up and button them.

"I'm only making you do this because of our promise. I know you don't like going to the doctor either." I murmur as I help slip his shirt over his messy blonde hair and chiseled chest.

"What promise?" He asks, genuinely seeming confused.

I know he knows what promise, that's what makes me hurry getting him to the doctor, he reminds me of that promise all the time and for him not to remember now scares me.

"Our promise to do what the other said when it involved the health or well being of each other, you remember?" I say.

"Oh." He mutters, acting like he knows what I am talking about, even though he obviously doesn't.

He looks like he could pass out any second.

I get into the driver seat with a still bleeding Peeta next to me, the towel already soaked through.

He must've hit some veins if he didn't slice all the way through to his bones.

I quickly drive to the ER and on the way there, I see Peeta is falling in and out of consciousness.

"Peeta, how in the world did you cut your hand so bad?" I ask him with a nudge.

He brings his head up higher, "Uh, I don't know. I wasn't paying attention." He says slowly, kind of out of it.

"You have to stay awake. We're almost there." I say kind of loudly.

"I'm trying but I'm really lightheaded and my hand hurts really bad." He complains.

"I know. Were gonna get you fixed though, hopefully, you didn't cut through to your bones." I tell him truthfully.

"I don't know, it hurts pretty bad." Peeta says with a whiney tone.

Honestly, guys are such babies when they're sick, but Peeta is never sick or hurt, so I dismiss his behavior. Plus, I know he is hurting and it hurts me to watch. And he's not all there right now it seems.