The face in the mirror is the face of someone who has seen far too much. To
anyone looking at me, I probably look young. But I don't feel like it. I feel
old and worn out. If someone had told me a few years ago how things would be
today, I'd have laughed in their face and said they were crazy. But here I am.
Alive. Maybe not well, but still. I'm alive.
My hair has grown back some. There's now just enough to cover the pale pink skin
that's replaced the scabs. It's a small improvement. But lately I've started to
wonder if the dark circles under my eyes will never leave. I know the nightmares
never will. The memories will be forever engraved in my mind, seeping in my
thoughts no matter how hard I try to suppress them. Dr. Aurelius says that's to
be expected. Soon I'll come to accept the memories for what they are and they
won't affect me quite as much. Like he would know.
I still have a special bracelet around my wrist. It's similar to the one I had
back in Thirteen. In plain black font it reads "JOHANNA MASON. 7. MENTALLY
DISORIENTED."
Yep, that's me.
I turn and leave the bathroom, knowing Dr. Aurelius will be here soon. Poor Dr.
It can't be fun having to baby sit all the remaining wacked-up victors. But he
doesn't seem to mind. Granted he also has a salary nice enough to make almost
any job worth while. Lucky for him, he hasn't had to deal with me for a whole
week! He wanted to "See how I could manage on my own".
Just fine, thank you very much.
I sit on the dark green sofa in the sitting room and focus on the one tree I can
see through the window. It's my tree. I've begun to think of it that way, after
spending the last week staring at it. It reminds me of home. I'd give just about
anything to be at home right now. But I'm not. I'm stuck in District Two with
everyone else that I've seen enough of in the last few months to make me
thoroughly sick of them. If Plutarch shows up at my door one more time, offering
for me to be on some exciting new television show, or begging me to do an
interview, I'll shoot him. Plain and simple. I'll have to see what Dr. Aurelius
can do to keep him away.
There's a knock on the door. "Come in!" I call, my voice raspy. Serves me right
not using it for a week. Dr. Aurelius comes through the door, smiling
sympathetically.
"How are you, Johanna?" he asks.
I shrug. "I'm glorious. And yourself?"
"I'm fine," he says, sitting in the chair across from me. "Now I have to tell
you, I've been asking around and no one's seen you leave the house at all in the
last week. I'm sure you remember me telling you that it's not healthy for you to
sit around here all day. I thought I made that clear."
"Well, maybe if I actually had some reason to go out there, I'd consider it," I
snap, my voice cracking. "Honestly, I've been given nothing to do. What do you
expect? For me to just go out there and wander around? If I did that, I'd get in
trouble for being in the way. There's no winning. Why can't I just go home?
There's no point in my being here."
He sighs a short, exasperated sigh. "Johanna, you know why you're here. You're
still very unstable. We can't send you home just yet."
"Oh, really? Because assassinating President Coin was completely stable. Katniss
got to go home. Or is that just because she's to dangerous to keep around here?
If I shoot someone, can I leave too?" I ask. I'm trying to yell, but its mostly
just coming across as an agitated squeak. I don't even care. I'm just sick of
being here.
"We aren't talking about Katniss," he says, trying to sound patient. "Your main
concern needs to be your recovery."
"Well, just expecting me to wait around here isn't going to make it go any
faster," I argue, crossing my arms over my chest. "It's bad enough I had to sit
around in Thirteen while everyone else went storming the capitol. I'm sick of
this. All I ever do is wait. 'Stay here Johanna, you might jeopardize the
mission' or 'Just wait here, Johanna you're crazy. You can't go home.'"
He seems to consider this. "So what is it you want?"
"Anything. Just give me something to do or let me leave," I plead.
He looks at me for a moment, studying me. "I'll see what I can do. But I can't
make any promises."
I don't say anything. There's not much to say. It's the best offer I'll get.
"But in the meantime, some changes will be made," he says, adjusting his posture
and jotting something down on his clipboard. I hate that clipboard. I have a
brief fantasy of stealing it and setting it ablaze. "All this time alone isn't
good for you. I'm assigning you new quarters."
"Excuse me?"
He looks up at me, his face warning me to keep quiet. "You're moving in with
Annie Cresta."
"Excuse me?" I ask, officially wondering if he's really qualified to be calling
the shots. He seems just as unstable as us if he thinks that's a good idea.
"Why, because two nut jobs is better than one?"
He ignores me. "You both need some company. And she could use someone to help
her, considering her condition."
"What condition?"
"Annie's pregnant," he said.
I felt my eyebrows shoot up before I regained my composure. "No one tells me
anything…"
He chuckled. "Get your things together. I'll be back this evening to bring you."