The Hunger Games - Surviving The Storm - book 3

Chapter 16

The following day after giving birth to my twins was surprisingly relaxing. Since my husband became the president of Panem I was what they called a house wife. My job was to take care of the children have dinner on the table and his outfits picked out for the next day. I liked this arrangement better then the previous. Lucky for my husband he was home at all hours unless he was required to be somewhere.

Today he was out traveling the twelve districts fixing things to his standards. After following me into my old district where my family and I grew up he came to terms that it needed to be fixed. He also wanted to change the way we lived.

Every District would have working times, break times and even privelages. He wanted the Districts to not be poor and abused like they were. District 12 would be rebuilt and everyone would be given food, money and clothing. He wanted to also bring more jobs to the District and even allow people to travel back and forth into the others.

This sort of thing wouldn't happen over night but over the next few years we as a Country would grow stronger. He disagreed with the statement that President Snow spoke all those years ago. The Capitol didn't take care of the Districts, the Districts took care of the Capitol. While the citizens in the Capitol had everything the Districts worked there asses off to give it to them without a fair reimbursement. That isn't how it should be. The Capitol shouldn't be given special treatment.

A stronger better Country would be constructed from scratch when everything was set and done. I couldn't wait for that.

I sat at home with my mother and father. I watched them playing with their grandchildren like they did me. In 12 years their names would be entering the newly motioned reaping with the Capitol citizens. No longer was the families in the Capitol safe. The 24 Tributes would go up to 26 tributes now, just like the olden times when there were 13 Districts.

"Should we begin training them?" My mother asked. "I mean when they are old enough to hold a bow or throw a spear?" she said.

"I wish I didn't have to mom but I'd rather be safe then sorry. I just want them to have a actual childhood." I said as I watched my father making faces at his grandson.

"What is an actual childhood?" My mother replied. "I honestly don't know."

I looked at my mother with great interest. I remembered her stories from her childhood where she had to spend her years trying to find means to feed her mother and her sister after her father died. She never really had a childhood. Nor did my father, he was raised to bake and that was all he ever really knew.

All I ever knew was survival skills and healing. Being a mother was something I had to adapt to. The closest thing to taking care of children was when I took care of the sick children of District 12 and when I took care of Tierney. Then I remembered. Tierney died under my care.

"It wasn't your fault." I began whispering to myself. I closed my eyes and began rocking back and forth. Flashes of Tierney being tortured, and then her dead body began flicking through my mind. I just wanted it to stop, everything to stop. "It wasn't your fault."

I winced and turned around quickly grabbing the hand that was on my shoulder. I twisted it and held it firmly. It wasn't until I turned around and heared the yelps of pain did I realized I had my fathers hand and was seconds from breaking it. I quickly released him and apologized.

He rubbed his hand for a few seconds before he joined me at my side.

"Are you okay Cali?" he asked me.

I closed my eyes to try and clear my mind but opened them seconds later as the images resurfaced again. What was happening to me? Then it hit me. I was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. This was the same thing Haymitch was diagnosed with by my aunt Prim.

Haymitch was torn to pieces and kept what ounce of sanity he had by drinking his life away. I couldn't do that. I had to keep myself together because I was now a mother and a wife. I had two beautiful babies that needed their mother and a husband that needed his wife.

I looked up at my father and forced a smile. "I'm fine daddy." I whispered as I threw my arms around him and hugged him. "Just some bad memories." I gave him a reassuring squeeze before I released him.

I looked over at my mother who was holding both of her grandchildren and saw her looking at me with a stressed expression. Instantly my forced smile lost what little strength it had and faltered. I couldn't fake anything before my mother because she knew how that game was played.

That was the only way my mother made it through all those years during the games and even afterwards. She faked her way. She had even faked her love for my father, for the Hunger Games. Though later on what she thought she was faking was real. She loved my father with all of her heart and couldn't live without him.

Cinna began growing fussy which turned quickly into tears. I rose to my feet from my seat and crossed the room to my mother. Carefully I pulled Cinna Rose into my arms and began humming to her as I started gently patting her but to sooth her. Almost immeadiately she nestled her head into my bossom and clutched her little first around my blouse. Her cries began quieting down but didn't settle so I changed my humming to singing the only song that could quiet me as a child.

Deep in the meadow, under the willow

A bed of grass, a soft green pillow

Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes

And when again they open, the sun will rise.

After this first part of the song my mother and father sang to me and my brother when we were little Cinna Rose quieted a little bit more. She liked my singing and so did many people. In District 12 this was one of the ways I helped soothe the children and infants that I treated in District 12. My father says I get my voice from my mother who in turn got it from her father. When she sang the birds stopped to listen to her voice.

Here it's safe, and here it's warm

Here the daisies guard you from every harm

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true

Here is the place where I love you.

My little Cinna finally stopped crying at this point. Her small cries turned into a gentle whimper. She was so beautiful. My little angel.

Deep in the meadow, hidden far away

A cloak of leaves, A moonbeam ray

Forget your woes and let your troubles lay

And when again it's morning, they'll wash all away.

At long last Cinna's whimpers stopped all together and she began a small innocent coo. Her crystal blue eyes gazed up at me and I immeadiately saw Jackson there. While I continued singing I looked at her face and tried to find other traits that came from her father.

Here it's safe, and here it's warm

Here the daisies guard you from every harm

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true

Here is the place where I love you 

Listen up, Close your eyes this is your lullaby.

I finished in a gentle whisper as Cinna had fallen alseep. My father had taken the liberty of bringing her bassinet downstairs so I could lay her down. Once I was settled down into my seat again I noticed that my little Peeta had fallen asleep as well. My father returned upstairs once more to grab his bassinet as well so we could lay him down.

With both my babies sleeping I had some time to my parents. What could we talk about?