Chapter 147

Katniss

"Momma! Dadda!" Willow giggles, attempting to hoist her way up onto our bed. I inhale deeply, shielding my tired eyes from the morning sunlight that illuminates our room.

"Hello sweet girl," Peeta whispers, gently pulling her close to him. She takes her place face down on his chest, her little arms wrapped tightly around his neck. I shift my body so I'm on my side, where I can clearly see the both of them. Peeta's eyes open and close slowly and I know he's ready to fall back asleep. Willow turns her head to look at me, a gigantic grin across her face. How she could possibly have so much energy this early in the morning never ceases to baffle me. She's always been an early riser, just as I used to be. Rye on the other hand likes to savour his sleep, which is most definitely a blessing on our part.

Willow reaches out for me and so I move as close to her as I possibly can, my body snuggled up against Peeta. She lightly traces her little hand over the side of my face, studying my features intently. "Mommy, you're pretty," she whispers in an amazed tone. "Like one of daddy's paintings!"

"Thank you, Willow. But you are the prettiest," I say, grasping her hand in between mine. At that, she giggles and squirms until she falls off of Peeta's chest and repositions in between the both of us.

It's mornings like these that I've come to cherish so deeply. Peeta doesn't have to go to work today, which means he'll be making us breakfast, which I assume is why Willow has come to visit us this morning. She loves to help her dad bake, Rye too. Mostly though, they just sit in wonder watching him work. They're still satisfied as can be. They both adore Peeta. And I can't even begin to explain the way Peeta feels for them. I know that he loves them so greatly, probably more than he loves me. They are his greatest treasure, his light, his happiness. And I'm greatful every day that I get to share them with him.

Peeta stirs again and turns on his side, wrapping his arms protectively around the both of us; his girls. I shut my eyes and rest my head above Willow's, desperately trying to hang onto this moment forever.

It only lasts a few minutes when our tranquil silence is interrupted by the piercing ring of the phone downstairs. I groan and clamp my eyes shut tightly, willing for it to silence again so I can enjoy just a few more moments here with my family. "Momma, the phone is ringing!" Willow says, willing herself up to a sitting position. I figure that there's probably no use in getting her to go back to sleep now.

Peeta rubs his sleepy eyes and swings his legs over the side of the bed. "I'll get it," he mumbles, kissing Willow on the tip of her nose.

I take a deep breath before pushing myself up to sit, my back against the headboard behind me. "We have to get up momma, it's breakfast time!" Willow chirps, dashing from the bed and to the doorway.

I sigh, an unwilling smile creeping onto my face. Pulling my hair into a loose braid down the side of my head, I make myself stand. Willow bounds forward, grabbing onto my hand, and pulling me from our bedroom. She's eager to get downstairs before Peeta starts breakfast. She never wants to miss anything, especially when it comes to whatever he's doing.

At the top of the stairs I lift Willow up and hold her at my side, ruffling her dark curly hair. "Let's go see who was on the phone, yeah?" I whisper.

At the base of the stairwell, the cat Peeta gifted me with over 2 years waits for us eagerly. She rubs up against my ankles and purrs when I set Willow down to pet her. I smile and turn my attention to the kitchen, where Peeta speaks to whoever it was that called.

When I hear him hang up the phone I call out to him, "Peeta, you better get started on breakfast. Somebody is very eager to help," I say as Willow jumps up and down in excitement.

Moments later, Peeta pushes the kitchen door open, a pained expression etched across his face. I feel my heart sink in my chest and my mouth suddenly goes dry. Whoever called here did not call bearing good news.

"Will, why don't you go see if Rye is awake. He'll want to help with breakfast too," I say, sensing that Peeta wants Willow out of the room when he tells me what happened.

I watch her scurry up the stairs and out of sight before turning back to Peeta. "What happened? Is everything okay?" I whisper, my breath catching in the back of my throat. Peeta doesn't say anything. He simply shakes his head and takes a few steps forward, placing his hands on my waist. "What is it?"

"It's your mother," he murmurs, his eyes filled with sorrow. "She's sick, Katniss. That was the hospital in the Capitol. They said she wanted to see you and the kids before. . ."

My heart grows heavy and I focus my gaze on the wooden floor beneath our feet. "She asked me to go to the Capitol?" I whisper, my eyes stinging.

"Yes. She wants to say goodbye," he says, his voice breaking in pain for me. Instantly, I'm consumed with dread and worry. I breathe deeply and shake my head, pulling him closer to me.

"I. . ." I stammer. "I can't." Peeta pulls away from me slightly to look at my eyes, his hands tangled in my hair.

"Katniss, I would never force you to do anything. You know that. But I think that if you don't go now, if you don't say goodbye, you will regret it," he whispers softly. "Growing up with my mother was not easy. When it was at its worse, there were times when I wished she was gone. But if I could have just had a few more minutes to talk with her, to tell her that I did love her. . ."

My brows furrow in pain and I trace my fingertips gingerly over his jawline. Peeta doesn't talk about his family much. I know that it hurts him so badly to even think of them. Neither of us recieved proper care from our mothers. But as much as I hate to admit it, he's right.

"You'll be with me. The whole time. . .Right?" I whisper, my tone like a child's.

"Always, Katniss. Always."

***

Willow and Rye did not get to help Peeta cook breakfast. Instead, they were forced to have it on the train. The train that was bringing us to the Capitol. We haven't visited since the memorial a few years ago. I know Peeta and I don't want to relive any part of that trip.

It physically pains me, thinking of bringing my children into that place. If it were up to me, they would have nothing to do with it. If it were up to me, I would shield the both of them from all of the past horrors that have been lived not only in the Capitol, but in all of Panem. Each year, as my children grow older, a brand new sense of worry floods my entire body. Because each year I know they are getting closer to discovering the truth about their parents. Each year they will learn something new, about Panem, District 12, the Capitol, the Games, us. I don't know how I will bear it when Willow turns twelve and begins to learn about the Games in school. I know that the other kids will tell her things too, whether they're true or not. And I have no control over that. All Peeta and I can do is tell them things about us, the country, our old family and friends, in a way that won't scare them so badly.

It takes a few hours to reach the outskirts of the Capitol. I try to divert my eyes from the dam that has since been rebuilt. I try to ignore the new streets that were once ravished by war. I pretend I don't see any of it because I don't want to have to explain to Willow and Rye why I'm so scared.

Peeta takes my hand and squeezes tightly and I know he's struggling in the same way that I am. Possibly even more so. He was tortured her. Beaten bloody, electrocuted, stripped of his own memories. This was the place in which is was morphed into a deadly, unrecognizable mutt. And still, to this day, I know he still struggles with it.

"Momma?" Rye asks, pointing his stubby finger to the city looming before us. I reach out my hand and he takes it, stumbling into my arms.

"That's a city called the Capitol," I whisper, running my hands through his curly blond locks.

"Have I ever been here?" Willow asks, an inquizzitive look etched across her face.

"Only once," Peeta replies. "When you were just a baby."

"I don't remember. . ." she whispers, studying the city carefully.

Once the train comes to a stop, Willow is practically at the door immediately, eager to get outside. I almost have to bite my tongue to keep from telling her that this isn't a place she should want to be. This isn't a good place. But if I tell her that, she will ask why. And I could never bring myself to tell her, not now.

"Do you think people know we're coming? I don't think I can face them. . ." I murmur to Peeta and he shrugs, taking Willow's hand and wrapping his free arm around my waist. Rye sits on the side of my hip, his head rested on my chest.

The train doors slide open and thankfully no crowds greet us on the other side. The four of us scurry into a car that waits only a few steps away, ready to take us to the hospital where my mother awaits us. Peeta did not tell me very many details. I can't help but wonder if the hospital refrained from telling him too much. I know that can't be a good sign.

"Are you okay?" Peeta whispers to me, over Willow, who sits in between us. I nod my head, avoiding his eyes. I don't want to lose it here, not in front of my kids. Maybe at home, things would be different. Maybe I wouldn't feel so pressured to hide my emotions. But in this place, I have no where to hide. I feel vulnerable and frankly terrified.

It's a short ride to the hospital, only about ten minutes or so. Soon the car stops in front of one of the tallest buildings I've ever seen, with big glass sliding doors and what looks to be hundreds of windows all the way to the top. I hesitate before stepping out the car, knowing that someone is bound to recognize us. For the most part, our children don't think it's odd to have strangers come up to us. Either that or they don't pay enough attention to it to care. But then again, that was in 12. The Capitol is completely different. Some people love us, some loathe us. But none of them are shy to approach us, while in 12 practically everyone keeps their greetings to minimal nods and smiles.

I bow my head and place my hand at the back of Rye's head. Peeta wraps his arm around my waist again and keeps Willow tucked in between us. We scurry together through the glass doors and into the building, where we're greeted with an immensely large lobby with crystal chandeliers and velvet furniture. I never imagined a hospital would look like this. None of the ones I've been in have ever come close, and I've had my fair share of experience.

A nurse greets us immediately, obviously recognizing our faces. "What can I do for you?" she asks, flashing a smile. I'm almost surprised that she looks like an actual human being. Her long dark hair is pulled back in a knot at the back of her head and she wears shimmery silver makeup around her eyes that looks flattering against her tan skin and deep chocolate eyes.

"We're here to see Katniss' mother; Mrs. Everdeen," Peeta replies, his eyes darting around the lobby. He's checking to make sure that no one has noticed us yet. Thankfully I don't think that they have.

The nurse, who says her name is Attalynn, leads us across the lobby and to a glass elevator, in which we're instructed to ride up to the eleventh floor where another nurse will lead us to my mother. I haven't been on an elevator in years. I've practically forgotten the rush of lifting up into the air and watching the people below us grow smaller. Willow stands looking down, her palms pressed against the glass. She's in complete awe, while Rye buries his face in my neck so he can't see. I figured he wouldn't like it so much.

Once we reach Level 11, Peeta lifts Willow in his arms and we search for another doctor. Instead, we are greeted with a band of people sitting in chairs in what looks to be a waiting room. We try to back away and leave, but when I make eye contact with a tiny woman with yellow hair and a nose that reminds me of a bird, I know we've been recognized. The woman opens her mouth to speak, and it's as if the entire room has erupted with chatter, like everyone saw us at one time.

I groan and desperately look at Peeta, mentally asking him what we're supposed to do now. He shrugs and takes a deep breath, frantically glancing around for a nurse. The bird woman takes a few steps towards us, craning her neck to get a good look at my son. I hug him closer to my chest and put my hand on the back of his neck to hide his face as much as possible. I feel cornered. Trapped. I knew this would happen. This was all a mistake. 

Peeta grabs my hand, Willow clutched in the other and pulls us quickly to the nearest exit. The crowd practically riots with distaste. They don't want us to leave. Before we can quite reach safety, a stocky woman with silver hair takes several steps in front of us - blocking our way. 

"Oh, you're the most lovely family. Would you mind taking a picture with us," she cries, motioning to a band of gawking women perched behind her. Peeta mumbles something along the lines of no thank you and we continue on our way, just to be stopped again by a lanky man with dark choppy hair and cold eyes that send shivers down my spine. My breath catches in my throat as he begins reaching slowly for Rye and I. I'm defenseless but the thought of this man laying even a single finger on me or my son sends waves of anger through my bones. Before I can react though, Peeta has the man's bony wrist held tightly in his fist. His eyes grow cold, his jaw tensing. 

"Don't touch them," he snaps. The tall man recoils immediately, running his palm over his siren red wrist. Now is our chance. The four of us scurry as quickly as possible into the empty adjoining room. As soon as the heavy metal door shuts tightly behind us, all of the air seems to rush out of my lungs. Peeta is there instantly by my side, his forehead pressed against mine. 

"I hate it here," I whisper, a hint of nervous laughter in my shaking voice. 

"I know. I do too," Peeta replies, leaving a ghost of a kiss at the top of my cheekbone. 

***

"Katniss Mellark?" a light haired nurse calls for me at the doorway, an artificial smile plastered across her face. "You can visit your mother now if you'd like. She's right this way."

I take a long, shaky breath before slowly inching my way towards the door. I can feel Peeta's brave presence behind me. He's with me every step. I don't know what I'd do without him.  

The image of my frail, ashy colored mother lying underneath mounds of woolly hospital blankets is enough to make me feel sick to my stomach. Pictures and memories of her before my father died flood my mind, crashing over my heart like salty tides over sand. She used to be beautiful. Happy. Steady. I'd almost call her fearless. So much has changed since then. We live in a different world. A cruel, unfair world in which daughters grow up without fathers and mothers watch their children die. 

My mother reaches out to me, her tired hand shaking. I force myself to take it, for I'm afraid if she holds it up any longer, she might lose all of the energy she has left. Standing her beside her, all I feel is gray. Gray like her carefully combed locks of hair. Like her scarred, bitterly cold hands. Like the chipped and peeling walls of this hospital. Gray like the coal dust that seemed to coat every beautiful thing in District 12. It seemed to have coated my mother. 

"I'm so glad you came, Katniss," she barely manages to whisper, her eyes focused intently on my face. That's the one thing that hasn't seemed to change - her blue eyes. The ones she once shared with my baby sister. 

Willow, who was uneasy at first, parades forward and throws her skinny arms across my mother - who laughs uneasily, as if to attempt in hiding the pain I know is there. 

"Hello, my sweet girl," my mother whispers, smile lines spreading across her sullen cheeks. Willow grins sheepishly, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. 

Rye tugs at my legs, his bright eyes staring up at me. I crouch down slowly, resting one of my hands against his back. My son has always been unspeakably shy. He's always seemed to look to me in new situations. I'm not sure why. Peeta has always been better at reassuring and comforting. But Rye seems to be drawn to something about me. Maybe it's because I was so much like him - sometimes I still am. 

"You can say hello too Rye," I whisper, running my hand through his messy blond curls. He stumbles forward, latching tightly onto the hospital blankets upon the bed. 

"Hello," he says softly, still slightly unsure. 

"Hello Rye," my mother whispers. "I want both of you to know that I love you very much. I may not always be here to say it to you. But I want you to remember that. And remember that you have the bravest mom and the kindest dad in the entire world. I love them both very much too."

Something inside me bursts at her words. I'm not sure if it's the sadness from the burden of knowing what her words mean, even when my children don't. Or if it's from the joy of knowing that somewhere deep inside her heart, my mother has managed to find love for me and for my family. Even after all these years of heartbreak and isolation and fighting, she still cares about me. I am so overcome with emotions that I feel like I might break. Peeta notices. He tells the children to kiss their grandmother goodbye and takes them out into the hall. I catch Willow glancing back as she leaves. A part of me thinks she knows. She knows that this goodbye cannot be undone. This is the last time she will see her grandmother. She leaves with Peeta and her brother anyway. 

As soon as the door closes shut and I'm left alone with the shadow of who my mother once was, my eyes glaze over with hot tears. Emotions rise quickly in my throat and my hands grow to be as shaky as hers. I let my knees fall to the floor and clutch her hand in mine once more. 

"I love you Katniss. I really do. And I am so sorry that I couldn't be the mother you deserved. You deserved so much better and you know that. You and Prim both deserved so much better. But we can't go back and change it. What we can change is the future. What you can change. You're a wonderful mother to those two beautiful children, Katniss. The kind of mother I wish I was."

"I'm not angry with you," I whisper, a tear slipping silently from my eye. "Not anymore."

A thin smile spreads across her cheeks. "You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that. You're my baby girl, Katniss. My first daughter. You've been through so much." 

She gingerly places her hand on my cheek and I clutch it like a lifeline. I can feel her slipping away from me. She grows more distant with every breath. I am suddenly overwhelmed with a kind of indescribable intensity of anxiety and fear. "Wait," I cry. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for everything I've ever said to you. I take it all back. Please. . .I can't lose you. I can't lose you too."

"Katniss," she whispers softly, brushing tears from my cheeks. "It's all going to be okay. I promise. I love you."

Her eyes begin to shut, her hand relaxing beneath mine. "No!" I cry. "Please. . ."

"I get to see your father," she sighs, a ghost of a smile upon her lips. "And Prim! Oh Katniss, she's beautiful." 

Her eyes shut. Her breath slows. I'm losing her. "Wait," I choke. "Please don't. Please don't leave me, mom. I'm sorry. I love you. I'm so sorry." 

There is no reply. Her heart rate displayed on the monitor above us falls flat. She is gone. Everything I've ever felt towards her suddenly hits me, breaks me, pushes me to the ground. For a second, nothing happens. I feel frozen, her lifeless hand still clutched in mine. And then I let go. All of the tears that I have ever held back seem to fall in that moment. It's like my chest is being pressed - crushed - and I'm fighting to hard to breathe but whatever it is that's stopping me won't let go. My head is spinning and I can't see any of the nurses or doctors in the room - even though I know they're there. None of them try to touch me. None of them bother me. I am left by myself, sitting curled up on the cold metal floor, sobbing for all those I've lost. I cry for my childhood - or at least, the one that I was deprived of. I cry for the little girl who used to have so much hope. Who used to have a mother and a father and a little sister. I cry for the girl who now has none of them. 

Peeta must have known because he's suddenly there with me, holding me upright and fighting back tears himself. He hates to see me in pain. I know that. But I can't hide it this time. I've been strong for far too long. I've held it together for too long, burying my thoughts deeper and deeper every single day. So I cry. 

_______________

Yikesssss, it's been a crazy long long time. But what better day to post again than the first day of 2018? :') There are 3 chapters total left of this book...At this point it's hard to really say when the last chapter will finally come because I originally had said August...now it's January. But at least I get to say that we made it to the 4 year anniversary (in early February at least). It's been a very very very  good run. I'm so so sorry I couldn't keep up with all of it. But 3 more chapters and then all of it will be over (honestly maybe that's why I'm taking so long...maybe I don't want it to be over...)

Anyway, thank you so so much if you've stuck around and you're still here with me and this book. Love you always. 

-booklover2019