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The Hunger Games Fan Fiction by @MsJessicaGodwin: Chapter 1

"Peeta!" I screamed. Suddenly I felt pain in my big, big stomach (because I was pregnant.)

"What’s wrong?!" Peeta rushed to me. Well, he was panic because I’ve never screamed before.

"The baby! The baby!" I screamed in pain. "I think I’m gonna deliver him today!"

Peeta reached the phone quickly. I started to cry, the pain was too much for me. He held me in his arms, tried to calm me. He kept stroking my hair, whispering things such as, “Be patient, Sweetheart.” or “Everything is going to be okay.”

It’s been almost a year since we moved here to the Capitol. It was Peeta’s idea when we knew I was pregnant. He thought I would get a doctor’s care easier once I needed it, because there were no doctors in Twelve. At first I thought this idea was “too much” for me, but he insisted so I agreed. After all, what kind of bad things would happen in the Capitol when it already has the rightful one to rule?

I didn’t really remember what happened next. What I knew was that Peeta rushed me out when our ride arrived. Along the way, I kept on crying and Peeta didn’t give up to calm me down. The next thing I knew was that I woke up on a hospital bed.

"Peeta?" I called him weakly.

"I’m here," he answered, then kissed me. "How does it feel? Does it hurt?"

To be honest, I felt strange. I didn’t remember delivering our baby, but I felt pain everywhere. Even though it wasn’t as painful as the pain I felt before.

"Not so much anymore," I answered. "Have I delivered him, our baby?"

He smiled. “You did it, Katniss. We have a daughter now.”

A daughter? I looked around, hoping for her presence somewhere around this room. None. “Where’s she?”

"The doctors are examining her now, making sure she’s really healthy," he explained calmly. "I think we’ll be able to see her soon."

"What does she look like?" I asked him. "Does she look beautiful?"

"Of course, she’s more like you. Even though she has my eyes, her hair is black like yours." Peeta kissed me again, then played with some of my hair really softly, as if he’s afraid it would hurt me.

I was imagining her: a baby girl with blue eyes but black hair. Oh my God, Peeta told me she’s beautiful, but I couldn’t get over the fact that she’s “more like me”—or at least that’s how Peeta described her. Even though in every mother’s eyes her daughter would look beautiful for sure, I was doubting it because she’s more like me instead of Peeta. I never felt beautiful myself. For me, being beautiful was insignificant. But now I was so curious of how would my—our daughter look like.

"Can’t I see her now?" I begged. "Please?"

"Alright, I’ll try to talk to the doctors," Peeta kissed me before going. "Stay, okay?"

As Peeta left, I was going to go after him, but I felt weak so I laid down again. Bored, I looked up to the ceilings. Has Gale—whom I haven’t heard anything from after years—heard about this yet? Have they told my mother? Was me—as the victor of The Hunger Games—giving birth now on the news all over Panem?

Maybe not, I guessed. Who would possibly tell Gale or my mother? And if there was, Gale must be busy with his “fancy” job in Two and so must my mother. And maybe not, too. Years have passed since our victory, I didn’t think any news about us were that interesting anymore.

But, was I right? For Gale, maybe he already has his own family by now and didn’t get any trouble visiting us if anyone let him know. Or, if he hasn’t, it would be too painful—i guess—for him to visit. As for my mom, she wouldn’t be visiting because of either her old age or the memories of Prim and my dad. Or if she has let it all go, she could just go here to meet me or at least her granddaughter.

I’ve given myself a headache by thinking about all of those. Luckily, Peeta came in shortly bringing our baby. He brought some companies with him. I recognized some of them: President Paylor, Plutarch, and another man who must be a doctor. I tried to see how my daughter looked like but my bones refused to move. I moaned weakly.

"What is it, Katniss?" Peeta asked, came to me. "Does it hurt?"

"Let me hold her…," I said softly.

Peeta seemed to hesitate. He turned his head to the doctor whom I didn’t know, asking for permission. A nod from him made Peeta relax a bit, although he still seemed hesitate. He gave our baby to him for awhile to help me sat. Then she was given to me, our daughter.

My eyes looked at her and I was suddenly amazed. Peeta was right: she was beautiful—so beautiful. Her blue eyes looked curiously into mine. Her black hair seemed like mine, indeed. But even though she looked more like me, there was something about how she looked at me that reminded me of someone. Who else looked at me like that?

"Prim," that word slide slowly through my mouth, uncontrollable.

"Primrose Mellark," Peeta murmured in agreement. His lips curved a smile. "I like it."

***

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