"Effie," said a familiar voice.
The white of the room was blinding; Effie couldn't tell what orbit she was in. Nothing seemed real to her, yet something told her that she wasn't dead. She couldn't string together a sentence in her mind, either, which would have been more frustrating if she weren't so out of it.
When she finally spoke, it was in a weak, deadpan voice, "Plutarch."
"Effie, I just don't believe it," he told her.
It had been quite a shock for him when he walked into Effie's room to check on her after the meeting with Coin. He had expected her not to take it well; he hadn't expected to find her lying unconscious with an empty pill bottle next to her. From what the doctors had told him, though, Effie was lucky because he had gotten there pretty soon after it happened, which saved her life.
Neither of them said anything for the rest of his visit, but Plutarch stayed beside her until the doctor came in and asked him to leave.
The next time Effie woke up, she felt a different hand holding hers and a wave of happiness came over her when she heard,
"Good morning, princess."
"Haymitch." Suddenly, she was crying, "Haymitch I'm so sorry."
"Sshh, sshh, no, Effie, don't," he said, stroking her forehead, "come on; you'll make yourself sick. Sshh."
It took a couple of minutes for Effie to calm down. Haymitch put his forehead to hers, feeling closer to tears in that moment than he had in a very, very, very long time.
"Haymitch, I'm so scared," she said.
She sounded pitiful; her speech was slurred and her voice was cracked. She looked paler than ever, and the circles under her eyes accentuated how dead she was on the inside. Haymitch almost wished she had died so that she didn't have to go through this. The doctor had said she would recover eventually, but Haymitch knew that a part of her would remain gone forever.
"Effie, it's going to be alright. It's going to be alright. There's still a fight left in you, I know it."
She didn't say anything else after that, either because she couldn't or wouldn't, but Haymitch stayed with her regardless. All he wanted was to be near her so that he could be sure of her existence.
"How was your visit with her?" Plutarch asked when Haymitch came back.
"She didn't say much," Haymitch told him.
"I could have guessed as much." Plutarch let out a heavy sigh, "I don't think she'll be well enough to work in a few days."
"Me either," Haymitch agreed, "but Coin is going make her do it anyway. Mark my words, she'll be out of the hospital before the execution whether she's ready or not."