just something i wrote for english class. alternate ending to chapter 25 where katniss and peeta eat the berries, or almost do. but here, peeta does eat them and so does katniss hehe!! enjoy š« (the yellow text are lines copied from the book)
chapter 25, page 292
[ā¦] "On the count of three?" Peeta leans down and kisses me once, very gently. "The count of three," he says. We stand, our backs pressed together, our empty hands locked tight. "Hold them out. I want everyone to see," he says. I spread out my fingers, and the almost pale looking berries glisten in the sun. I give Peetaās hand one last squeeze as a signal, as a goodbye, and we begin counting. "One." Maybe Iām wrong. "Two." Maybe they donāt care if we both die. "Three!", Peeta announces alone.
We said one and two together. Just why didnāt I say three as well? Am I actually scared of dying? Of course, I am scared. Deep down, I am a coward. But no one knows. They canāt know. I simply cannot allow myself to be weak. No one can know about my weak side. No one, except for ā¦ him. He would understand me, he always does. Peeta, he isā¦
Wait, his hand? Our fingers, they arenāt intertwined anymore? What happened now? I canāt feel his back against my own anymore. But then, reality forcefully drags me out of my inner turmoil and shakes me awake, almost violently. It suddenly hits me. I hesitated. Neither did I say 'three', nor did I actually eat the berries.
Not to mention that I didnāt even put them anywhere near my mouth. They are still in my hand, not even moved by a tiny bit. The only difference is that they are coated in sweat now. Internally, I slap myself for being so stupid.
So ā¦ scared. Now could I let this happen? Peeta and I, we promised each other to die together. My body is frozen in place, I am unable to move. Merely my hand is trembling. Not only my hand though, I realize. Actually, my whole body is shivering and my eyes widen in shock. It suddenly feels as if the world is moving in slow motion.
A tiny moment before, I still felt Peetaās back very lightly against mine, while he already began to sink to the floor. But now? The touch is gone. The realization, that Peeta is dead on the floor has yet to make its way inside my brain that is currently only able to process the world and its events in pure slow motion.
Seconds have passed and I finally wake up. I succeeded, I am finally free from the frozen confines of my own body. Suddenly, it is the opposite. I turn around in such a fast pace, the people watching must be shocked to see it. "Peeta," his name leaves my lips so quietly. My voice is so weak, I am unable to talk louder than just a whisper. "Peeta," I say again.
If my voice is actually louder this time, I am unable to tell. Maybe it was just my imagination or wishful thinking. Wishful thinking, that I could react to this a little more. He is dead. And he will never return. I am a traitor. I just let him die. Even if he wasnāt dead, I would never be able to look him in the eyes again.
A single tear rolls down my cheek as I trace patterns over his chest with my fingers. Of course, we only got to know each other over the past few days but I feel so close to him, so connected. As if we actually belong together. As friends or lovers, it doesnāt matter. There is just this bond between us that I canāt quite define or clarify.
My hands are now on his face, framing his insanely pale cheeks and my thumb traces over his lips. These lips have touched my own so many times already and now they will never again. Unless I want to kiss a dead body. Because he is one, he is dead.
I try it again, just one last try. I make an attempt to shake him awake. Why canāt I just deal with the fact that he will never open his eyes and see the light of day, or me, again. "One last kissā¦," I murmur under my heavy but at the same time quiet breath. I lean down and kiss his dead lips for one last time.
Maybe I am secretly hoping that we would wake up from my kiss, just like in some kind of fairytale? But at the same time, I am ever so aware that this isnāt a fairytale. This is the bitter reality. I am the winner of the 74th Hunger Games and will see my mother, Prim and Gale again. It brightens up my spirit as I think about them. But could I really bear to live with this guilt forever? I betrayed him, his trust. Taking my win and returning to District 12, to my family and Gale, would mean standing behind and supporting this decision to the fullest. But I canāt. I shake my head and mumble a quiet, almost unhearable, 'No' under my breath, sobbing with tears.
Opening Peetaās other hand slightly, I still find two berries. With determination now written all over my face, I take them and my own and guide them to my mouth. But as I am about to swallow them, I flinch at the sound of the trumpets beginning to blare. The frantic voice of Claudius Templesmith shouts above them. "Stop! Stop! Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victor of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen! I give you - the tribute of District Twelve!"
I ignore the announcement and finally put the berries in my mouth, chewing a bit on them, taking in the bitter, sweet and toxic taste as I swallow them. "Goodbye.", I whisper. If that was dedicated to the world, Peeta or my family, I canāt tell. And I donāt care about it was my body goes limp and lands next to Peetaās. I guess this is the end now?
Something is wrong, I can feel it. Why can I feel it though? Feeling is not something that corpses should be capable of. But I am dead, arenāt I? I take a deep breath. This is all feeling way too real now. I slightly open my eyes, I shut them immediately after, the bright light is too much for me to bear at the moment.
When I was still a kid, my father told me that the afterlife is very bright. "It may feel like too much, but death is connected to fate and everyone is destined to embrace it one day. What Iām trying to tell you, little cat, is that the paining bright lights are nothing to be afraid of. Everything is meant to be.", he told me. Which is funny because he died not even a week after that. From that day on, I always thought of him whenever I saw bright lights. And death never scared me anymore. It is meant to happen and can even happen at the most random times. And mine has come.
Despite the pain of the lights, I open my eyes to embrace the afterlife. Despite there being a lingering feeling in the pit of my stomach that is telling me that itās not my time yet. And that instinct gets proven correctly as I take in my surroundings. The afterlife surely doesnāt have expensive looking hospital furniture usually.
My head hurts like crazy and I can suddenly hear a reoccurring beep sound. There is also some kind of wire with a needle in the crook of my elbow. Everything feels unreal but also too real to just be a dream or even more intenseā¦ death.
My hearing senses, despite still being weakened, manages to deliver the sound of an opening door to my brain. Slowly, I turn my head to the left, where the sound is coming from and notice a silhouette, no, two silhouettes. An unnaturally high pitched voice starts to talk. Words, my brain is too tired to actually understand. Something along the lines of 'sweetheart', 'dress' and 'ugly'. Is this Effie Trinket? Of course, who else would be saying those words?
"What..?", I murmur and she repeats her words. "Oh, sweetheart, what an ugly dress for such a beautiful girl!" I look down and notice what Iām wearing. Some kind of hospital nightgown. It genuinely looks alright but of course Effie wouldnāt like it. Her sense of fashion is simply something else.
My eyes take in the other figure standing slightly behind her. Itās Haymitch. He kind of looks sober, but he probably isnāt. I donāt blame him for that. "How are you feeling?", he asks me and I shrug.
But then I remember what happened. Peeta! I suddenly try to get up but my body is too weak. "Woah, easy there. Whatās the hurry now?", Haymitch steps closer to me, looking worried? "Peeta," is all I manage to say. Seeing how happy Effie is smiling at me gives me hope that he is also alive. Expectantly, I look at her, waiting to hear either good news or the horrible truth. "Donāt worry my little darling. Your love is atleast just as fine as you are right now. He is in the next room! Would you like to see him?", she trills. "Yes!", I blurt out and start another attempt to get up, only to be held down by Haymitch. "Effie, she canāt go anywhere in this state. Give her some time." Despite sounding very rational and almost sober, Haymitchās breath reeks off alcohol. Strong alcohol. His body must have built up such a strong resistance against alcohol already, if he seems this sober while being very drunk in reality.
"Fine! Then I will bring him to you~ Iāll be back in just a minute!", she states, applying a lot of emphasis on the 'just' before she disappears into, probably, Peetaās room. My heart is beating so quickly. Iām almost scared itāll jump out of my chest. Is this real? I will really see Peeta one more time? I swear myself to not put my trust in anyone right now. Only the actual sight of Peeta will convince me of his liveliness.
A minute filled with a tensed silence between Haymitch and me passes until the door is pushed open and a widely grinning Effie, stabilising and supporting another person that seems to have some difficulties to walk alone. And that person reveals himself to be- "Peeta!", I interrupt my train of thoughts. His face visibly brightens up upon seeing me. Effie aids him to sit down on the chair next to my bed and leaves the room with Haymitch. Actually, she is dragged outside by him after he ignores her protests of wanting to 'witness the reunion of true love'.
The sound of a door falling shut marks the start of a silence. Peeta holds my hand. A simple gesture that almost makes me cry. Because that was the thing we did before on of us 'died'. He placed a gentle kiss on the back of my hand and caresses it softly.
"Why are we alive?"
Finally, I manage to ask the one question that has been weighing on my mind.
"The berries werenāt ripe, so they just knocked us out for two days. We failed our double suicide stunt," he chuckles as he tells this.
"Did you see the recording of it?" I just need to know if he saw my hesitation and betrayal. I couldnāt look him in the eyes if he did. Which is why I avert my gaze as he nods in reply to my question.
"Oh come on, whatās wrong now?", he asks and it seems that he doesnāt even care about my betrayal.
"Iām so sorry, Peeta.", is all I manage to say, feeling too ashamed about my actions. Why doesnāt he care at all? There is not even a tiny trace of anger written over his face.
"Did you think Iād be mad at you for hesitating? I know youāre very strong but not this strong. I would say itās normal to hesitate when attempting to take your own life. But in the end, you still chose to do it. You wouldāve been the single winner but you still chose to give it all up." He totally hit the mark. How is this even possible? Can he read my thoughts?
I still donāt meet his eyes, not able to do this yet. In the corner of my eye, I notice Peeta getting up from his chair and judging by the mattress sinking slightly, itās not hard to miss that he is now sitting next to me.
He holds my hand again, intertwining our fingers carefully. "You felt guilty, am I right?" I give him a silent nod in response.
"If it took dying to keep from losing you, Iād surrender to it again without hesitation." I say before connecting our lips once more.
