*A/N- 29- Holy crow, how did I write twenty-nine chapters? How many people are even reading this? Thank you, so much; if there is anyone out there that has stayed with me and this story since the beginning, I'm eternally grateful! Tate's back and before she's able to start really putting back all the pieces, she needs to make sense of everything. Lots of up and downs in this chapter, it may read really choppy. It is on purpose. Try to realize everything that she now has to deal with, her life is going to jump around for a while. Yes, she is overwhelmed, and that will come out in the next couple of chapters. I will have some new characters start to emerge that need names- review or private message me if you want to help name/create these characters. Love you all! Reviews are much appreciated. –xoxo*
Chapter 29- Trying to Make Sense of Everything
I turned my head and looking at the wall, a silent tear falling down my cheek. I didn't have the energy to pick up my hand and wipe it away.
"Tate, do you remember going in and out of consciousness when you were pulled out of the Arena?" Damien asked me. Yes. I didn't answer. I could hear him walk closer to me.
"Do you remember pulling all of the wires out of you and fighting against the doctors?" He asked. Yes. I wouldn't answer.
"Something tells me that you do remember." He paused. I felt the salty tears hit my lips.
"I'm hoping that's not the case. Or if it is that you were fighting because you thought you were still in the Games." He stated. Damien leaned in, close.
"It'd be dangerous if you were conscious at that time and knew what you were doing; trying to fight them." I knew only I could hear him, in that low voice he was using. He was issuing me a warning. I looked up at him, desperately. His eyes said it all. He knew. He knew that I was fighting the doctors, he knew I wasn't fighting to live, but instead fighting to die. I opened my mouth to speak, with my eyes wide.
"Shh," He said, stopping me.
"Trust me, I know." He continued. He leaned down and hugged me; surprising me. I wanted to pick up my arms and put my arms around him, but I couldn't.
"Don't say anything; I understand." He whispered in my ear. Damien stood back up; suddenly, very much like himself again.
"The doctor you punched is okay, if you were wondering." Very much like himself again. I fell out of consciousness again; slipping in and out of it over the next few days. Of which, I remember very little, except two very distinct conversations being had in my room.
The first one I couldn't move or open my eyes; it was as if I was paralyzed.
"Where are her restraints? Who took them off?" I hadn't heard the voice before. My guess was that it was a doctor.
"Don't worry about the restraints." Damien replied.
"It was you who took them off, wasn't it? We had those on her, for her own good." He stated.
"For her own good? Doc, don't lie to yourself, let alone us. You are afraid of her, and that's why you strapped her down to a bed." It was Gage! My heart and head screamed. Open your eyes, girl! I struggled but couldn't do it.
"Don't worry about her restraints not being on. She's not even conscious. We will take full responsibility if she wakes up and suddenly goes on a violent rampage." Damien stated.
"I won't have it." I hope he's the doctor I punched.
"Doc, she's like a wild animal right now. Being here, it's like she's locked in a cage. Have you ever seen a wild animal in a cage before?" He paused. "Right now, you're poking and prodding that wild animal. When you do that, it tends to make them angrier, and grow hostile and resentful towards the one that put them in said cage. So let me ask you Doc, do you want to be the one that lets her out of the cage after putting her there in the first place?" Gage asked. I heard a huff.
"I don't like it." The doctor said before storming out. I blacked out again. The only other conversation was too hazy for me to remember.
After I don't know how many days, I finally opened my eyes. I was staring at a white ceiling tile. I looked down past that to the end of the bed. Then, to my left, I saw a small window with light bleeding in; to my right, was a door. In the corner of the room was Damien, slouching in a chair. I blinked at him, just watching. He looked at me. I blinked a couple more times at him.
"You're awake!" Damien said, jumping up. I had to smile at his reaction.
"I was wondering how long it'd take you to figure it out." I said my throat sore.
"The first full sentence you say after all this, and you're a smartass." He stated.
"Would you have it any other way?" I asked him.
"Not one bit," He broke into a smile.
"Can I sit up?" He nodded and helped me move the bed so I was sitting up.
"Need anything, kid?"
"Water," I said, feeling like I was completely dehydrated. He grabbed a cup and held it out to me. I dropped the cup, in the bed. Damien, quickly grabbed it.
"I'm sorry," I said, not used dropped things. I guess my strength had diminished since I was last really awake.
"Don't apologize." He told me. He held the cup up to my lips and I was able to take a sip. I felt like a child, unable to take care of myself.
"So what's wrong with me?" I asked him.
"What's the last thing you remember?" Damien asked. I shot him a look. "About the Games?" He clarified.
"Fury stabbed me and I was holding my own intestines in my body." I opened my mouth to had, stabbing Fury in his artery but Damien held a hand up.
"Well, there's your problem. Your intestines were falling out. The doctors had to do some major work to get them back in, and to stay in the right spots, I might add." That would explain the throbbing pain in my stomach.
"Oh, no big deal," I said sarcastically.
"Not just that. Would you like to go over all of your injures that you sustained in the Games? By the way, you are officially the Victor, congratulations." He stated.
"Wonderful." I said monotone, rolling my eyes. "So let's have it,"
"Let's start chronologically, shall we? I've always been a fan of order." He paused for a second. I nodded my head so he's go on.
"You got stabbed in your upper chest at the Cornucopia. You were stabbed with a dagger and almost drowned. Your arm was nearly sliced off. Gunner twisted your ankle and choked you. Glitter choked you. By the way, you should probably stop letting people do that."
"Noted," I told him.
"After your little jaunt with Glitter, you tumbled down a hill and popped your shoulder out of the socket. Then, once you survived the giant sinkhole of death, Liam broke your nose, then, you were fighting the mutts and one sank right into that thigh of yours. That looked like it hurt."
"Oh, then there was that whole thing with Fury and your guts seeping out of your body." What? How in the world am I not dead right now?
"You certainly have a way with words." I tell him. I was trying to process everything he said. From what it sounds like, over half of me shouldn't even be functioning right now. He said names of now dead kids, who would kill, who did kill to be in the spot I was, right now. I heard beeping and looked up to one of the many machines I was hooked up to.
"I've overwhelmed you; your heart rate's shot up. If you don't get it back down to the green level you'll have the doctors swarming you in minutes." I took a couple of deep breathes to calm down.
"I would say your biggest problem is that at the end, Fury cut you from side-to-side." He pointed from my left side to my right side. "And that you were holding you insides on the outside, but that's just me." He finished. I rolled my eyes at him.
"I thought that very thing as I was holding my guts, thinking that I was dying."
"There she is, the sarcastic Tatum I know." I smiled. He must be worried about me, if he mentioned my sarcasm and being a smart-ass twice in this short conversation. Which made me wonder- how bad of a shape am I in right now?
"Oh, Liam broke your nose with his elbow, kind of like how you did with me and several others on the train. Bet that hurt didn't it?" He asked. I made a face at him.
"Don't think that I didn't feel a little satisfied when I saw tears spring to your eyes after I heard the crunch of your nose. That was payback."
"Yeah, I guess I deserved that." I stated. Liam. I had been trying to save him. Now, he was dead, the mutts had ripped him apart piece-by-piece.
"Hey," I guess I made a face because Damien's voice was soft. I looked up at him.
"It's okay," He stated.
"No, it's not." I replied. He pursed his lips and silence filled the room.
"Where's Gage?" I finally asked; Damien frowned.
"Can I see him?" I asked.
"He's not here right now. He's out on business." I furrowed my brows. Business? He's a fisherman, a Victor. What 'business' does he have here in the Capitol? I was just about to ask, but I saw the look on Damien's face.
"Can I get you anything?: He asked.
"A new body?" I asked, hopefully.
"I should probably go get your doctors." He stated, starting towards the door. I couldn't help myself.
"Aren't you afraid of what may happen once you let the wild animal out of her cage?" I asked. He immediately shut the door that he had opened.
"You weren't awake when that was said." He paused.
"How much else do you remember?" He asked.
"Just that, and…" I paused. "I'm not even entirely sure if it was real or I dreamed it. President Cromwell, and a doctor, I heard a conversation between them." I really couldn't determine if I had made it up or not. Damien left the door and came to my bedside.
"What did they say?" He asked, suddenly so serious.
"I don't really remember much, but I think they were talking about me, something about me cooperating. The only thing that I can definitely remember was Cromwell saying, 'We chose her for a reason, keep her breathing. We have ways of controlling her.' Damien, what does that even mean?" I asked. His eyes grew wide, he looked panicked.
"Damien," I tried to get his attention.
"Damien!" I repeated myself, louder. He looked at me and leaned in close.
"Tatum, tell no one about this."
"Damien, what does it mean?"
"You can't tell anyone about this. Do you understand?"
"What does it-"
"No one. I'll explain when I know more. For now, you can't tell anyone. Got it?" He asked, rather sternly. I nodded.
"I'm going to get your doctors now." He was out of the room before I could ask another question. When Damien came back, he was accompanied by two men in white coats. They asked what I assumed to be pretty standard questions.
When I finally had the chance to ask, I asked them how long I was out for.
"Eight days," The bigger, bald doctor answered.
"Eight days?" I said, horrified and stunned. The two of them explained that there was a minor complication with my original surgery (I knew the complication- me ripping out all of my tubes and needles and trying to die). After that, I fell into a 'slight' coma.
"Slight coma?" I asked.
"We knew you still had brain function, we just didn't know when you would regain consciousness again." Apparently, I had woken up and talked with Damien, when I had the restraints removed on day two. After that, I had a seizure and went into the slight coma for six days.
They decided it would be good to get me up and moving as soon as I possibly could.
"Apparently, it doesn't look good if the Victor isn't up and running as soon as the Games are over." Damien stated. I smirked, the one doctor glared at him, the other scoffed. They ordered that I get up and walk around the floor. It sounded so easy, but when I went to sit up, that proved to be more difficult than I ever imagined. I nearly blacked out from the pain.
"Carefully," Bald doctor said.
"Slowly," The other one told me. With all three of them helping, I finally sat up with my bare legs dangling over the side of the bed. I felt nearly out of breath. My left side was searing with pain. I looked down at my bare legs and realized I was only in a hospital gown.
"Hold it." I stopped them.
"I'm going to need a pair of pants if I'm going anywhere; clothes are necessary." I told them.
"Tatum, we're all doctors and medical personnel here. It's nothing we-"
" ' ." I stressed each word. "If you don't get me clothes, I am perfectly content to stay in this bed, for a long time. For a very long time, days, weeks, possibly a month." I stressed how long I was willing to be uncooperative.
"She is quite stubborn." Damien said; I nodded agreeing.
"Fine," Said bald doctor. He went on search for clothes. He returned a couple minutes later with a pair of black spandex pants. They looked like they'd fit Lela. He came over to me and started to hike up my blue gown.
"What are you doing?" I screeched, slapping away his arms.
"Helping you put on these pants." He stated, obviously.
"Woah, okay, no!"
"You can't do it by yourself." Bald doc said. I felt the red spread over my face. I snatched the pants from him and went to bend down to put the leggings on. It felt like I was splitting in half.
"We can't give you a top to wear because of all of the monitors." The other guy explained.
"I'm good with just the pants." I explained, still fighting to reach the bottom of my legs.
"This is ridiculous, here." The skinny one with glasses said. He grabbed the leggings and put one hole around my ankle.
"Get out!" I screamed at them. I must have startled them because both jumped.
"You need help!" Glasses stated.
"Get out!" I screamed again, this time my voice cracked.
"I'll do it." Damien stated, stepping up. Everyone looked at him.
"Fine," I said softly. The doctors left the room.
"Don't move." Damien told me as he followed the two men out the door. I wanted to cry. I was so frustrated. I couldn't even dress myself!
"Okay, I'm back." Damien said, closing the door. He walked around to where I was.
"I understand the powerlessness that you feel right now, and the humiliation. I've been there, after my Games. I was you." He told me, he grabbed the leggings.
"Are those going to fit?" I asked. He had hit the nail on the head. I had just won the Hunger Games, but couldn't even dress myself.
"They might be big." He said. How much weight did I lose?
"Are you going to let me help you?" He asked, kindly. I nodded my head.
"Okay," I put my arms on his shoulders for support. He came over and put my other ankle through the whole.
"Were you in as bad of shape as I am after you won?" I asked. I was leaning on his shoulders, sitting still as he slid the material over my legs. He stopped after the question escaped my lips.
"No," he looked me in the eyes.
"No one has been as bad as you were when you came out. Not in many years, before any of us were born." His eyes told me that he had meant it.
"Tate, I don't mean to scare you, but you deserve to know the severity of how bad you were." I blinked.
"Tate, you died for a minute, for a full sixty seconds your heart stopped before they oculd bring you back." I looked down at the tiled floor. I died? My heart stopped for a minute?
"Look at me." He commanded, I looked into his eyes.
"You are strong. You are a survivor Tatum. You pulled through. You survived the Games." He told me. Tears were threatening my eyes. I put my forehead to his and shut my eyes.
"I just want to go home." I told him. He stood up and wrapped his arms around me.
"I know," I hugged him back.
"First you're going to have to walk." He told me.
"It's going to hurt, isn't it?"
"Like a bitch." He laughed. I had to smile. He very carefully lifted me up and helped me stand. He pulled up the leggings and let the gown fall over the pants. I tried to get adjusted to being on my own two feet.
"It feels like my insides are moving." I told him.
"They're probably getting settled." He replied. Gross, but probably true.
"What are you thinking?" Damien asked me. I took a deep breath.
"I'm just trying to make sense of everything."
