Chapter II: Awakening
Nightmares are strange by nature, but these dreams make even less sense than usual. The visions keep coming for a while, a perpetual onslaught, overloading every one of my senses. They fly by like a highlight reel from a movie: snapshots of my life, and my fears, and my hopes for the future.
The golden starbursts of renewed strength. The bleak, bone-littered caverns of disappointment. The songs of a dawning sun. The suffocating failure.
The hopelessness. The power. The struggle.
I see it whipping past – all at once – as if the separate halves of my mind are warring for control. I feel it, I see it, I hear it, I smell it, I taste it. All of it. I think that this must finally be death, for real this time, because my life is flashing before my eyes. Everything. Like a mental scrapbook, flipping pages frantically.
The familiar, moist dirt beneath my bare feet.
Berries from the arena, sweet and potent on my tongue.
Marvel, thrashing madly about like a dying dog in a puddle of his own blood.
My hollow, distant whimpers, fading away into burning cold emptiness.
The icy wind, carrying the dry scent of tree bark.
Thresh's name called at the reaping, and my subsequent scream that I can't control.
The deafening crack of wood as Marvel's spear drives into the trunk of my tree.
The earthy scent of row upon immaculate row of grain in District 11's fields.
The mockingjays, carrying the four notes of my signal.
The warm fragrance of a thousand flowers in a thousand colors.
Rough, coarse bread, crunching between my teeth, stale as a stone.
The spear buried in my chest, spilling out blood.
The painfully icy water of the river, protecting me from the tracker jacker attack.
Cato, watching me at the Capitol like a predator tensing for the kill.
Bruises on my arms and legs from a fall in the Arena's woods.
The hearty stew of the Capitol, with chunks of fresh lamb and dried plumbs.
The slow, impossibly agonizing, endless release from life as I slip away.
Thresh, sauntering up the creaky wooden stairs to join me on the stage at the reaping.
Cool, clear liquid from my water skin, calming the ever-present ache in my throat.
The agony of Marvel's spear driving into my stomach.
Amidst the thunderous hurricane of distinct clarity, I hear a continuous backdrop. The voices of the man and woman, saying things I don't understand – complex chemical names and surgical procedures and DNA science and mathematical formulas.
The mechanical sounds of some invisible equipment continue. I hear the heartbeat – thump, thump, thump – fading, then returning, then fading again, amplified by a speaker that I can't see.
I hear the breathing.
Gasp. Snort. Gasp.
I hear an animalistic, howling, growling noise.
I hear a high, keening screech like nails on a blackboard.
I feel the anguish in waves, and I start to recognize that it's occurring at a semi-regular interval, occasionally spiking without warning. My chest hurts worse, but I can't feel the spear in it. It feels like an angry hand is squeezing my heart, forcing it to keep beating.
The visions grow worse. I'm forgetting what's real, seeing every fear I've ever had, only dramatized. My family, Katniss, Thresh... they're dying. I'm bleeding in the Arena, forever in pain, forever alone, forever trapped with a scream stuck in my throat and tears caught in my eyes and a spear wedged in my chest.
Then, gradually, it fades.
It pales. I'm seeing only in black and white.
Who am I?
What happened to me?
Where am I?
Why am I losing my grip on reality?
Why won't anybody help me?
Thump –
Thump –
Thump –
...Gasp...
...Snort...
...Gasp...
An infinite period of everything and nothing.
I feel something, like a body, like limbs, but not like mine. Like something else, as if my soul has been dropped into another person. I feel the pain dissolve away. I feel energy shudder through my veins.
I can see. I'm alive again.
I can see.
There's a low, rumbling moan.
And I open my eyes.
A/N: Thanks to my two reviewers. To those of you who subscribed and/or favorited this story – I really appreciate it, but if you have the time, would you please review? Your constructive criticism and feedback would mean the world to me.
I'm having a blast with this. R&R, and may the odds be ever in your favor!