Day 25- Recovery

I wake up to find myself almost blinded by the whiteness of the room I'm in. It takes a few seconds to process where I am and why, before it all comes flooding back. I'm lying in a bed in a small room, bare save for a single door and a trolley filled with medical equipment to my left. I ache all over, but other than that nothing really hurts, even when I try to move, shuffling so I can sit up. Lifting up the plain white shirt I've been dressed in, I see no remnant of the wounds to my stomach or shoulder save for a pair of lines where the skin is lighter. Movement in my left arm appears unimpaired too, which certainly wasn't the case in my last moments in the arena, the doctors have obviously been busy while I was asleep, or drugged I correct myself, remembering the injection I received as I was taken out of the arena.

I'm really not looking forward to all the attention I know I'll receive from my team, but their arrival is almost a relief after a couple of hours alone with my thoughts, which are almost exclusively depressing.

Iulia, Rogellus, Fabricius, Tullia and Aquilina are all apparently genuinely delighted, hysterically happy, kissing me on the cheeks and shaking my hand enthusiastically. I know it's not anything to do with relief at me surviving though, just that they'll all get their own share of fame at a success which is theirs as well as mine. Success, I ponder to myself- I suppose it is, insofar as my aim before The Games started was to get back home, but seeing my first real girlfriend killed and then killing an innocent guy myself doesn't fit most definitions of success.

I barely take in anything my visitors say, replying simply and unenthusiastically when they ask something, not that any of them seem to notice. What I do notice, is Woof, standing away from the hubbub by the doorway. He eventually comes over to congratulate me when prompted by Iulia, but as his eyes meet me I realise the obvious; he is the only one who understands. I hope I'll have a chance to speak to him alone, and sure enough he soon gruffly ushers the rest of them out, insisting I need my rest. They leave, with Tullia giving me a promise of the best makeover ever tomorrow, which fills me with dread, and Woof sits on the edge of my bed and looks critically at me.

"How are you?" he asks, "Be honest."

"I feel..." I pause for a good while, trying to think of the right word. "Numb."

He nods understandingly. "The only people who come out of the arena happy are those who are prepared for what they went through. Even a lot of the careers aren't in that category, and virtually none of the non-career district winners." He pauses for a moment, before continuing when I say nothing. "And you may have had quite a quiet Games for a victor, but you went through more than most."

"I…" I stutter, "I keep trying to picture my parents' and sister's faces, but all I can see is…them." He knows who I mean.

"The people you killed, the people you saw killed, even the ones you just knew from training and know died- they will never leave you. It will always hurt, but it will ease. It might get worse first mind you, but one day it will start to ease."

"It's just so hard to accept," I say, a slight hint of anger creeping into my voice. I choose my next words carefully, mindful that we could well be being listened to here, "knowing that their deaths weren't an accident."

"I understand," he says, before adding forcefully "but there's nothing you can do." I hear that as the warning I'm sure it is- don't say or do anything stupid or the Capitol might arrange an 'accident' for me and it will all have been for nothing.

"I know," I mutter, to let him know I understand.

"I don't know how your story ends Rory," he says. "You might be able to escape the pain at night, or you might have nightmares for the rest of your life. You might find a job, a hobby something to take your mind off it a little, you might not. You might get married, have children, you might not. Whatever happens it certainly won't be easy, but there will be moments, I don't know how many but they will exist, moments that you're glad you survived and where you realise you couldn't have had everything else that happened not happened. And I'm not talking about the monetary rewards or the house in the victor's village, or the fame. All of those can just make it harder to avoid the memories; I'm talking about moments with your family or where you see the good your victory has done to someone else in the district."

I feel like I should be able to reply in much more depth, but instead I just look him in the eye and say, "Thank you." Not because he's made me feel better, but his advice is good, I think, and his words have helped me focus my scrambled thoughts a little.

"Hope I made some sense," he replies. "Well, I'll let you get some rest now, try to sleep if you can. Try and switch off as much as you can for your makeover, don't take anything out on them. Your victor's interview will be later tomorrow. I'm sure you already know, but you will have to watch back highlights of The Games, try and prepare yourself, because you really mustn't flinch away from them. I'll have a proper talk with you about the interview tomorrow."