"Peeta? Listen here you, you're not giving up on me, hear me? I'm serious, kid."
"Peeta! Is he okay? What's wrong?"
"Come on, Peeta."
"Where's his hair?"
"Most of it burnt off, it was just easier to shave the rest."
"When will he wake up?"
"I'm not a doctor, I don't know. I don't think the actual doctors do either, to be honest."
"He should be awake though, shouldn't he?"
"He's been through a lot. He'll pull through. He's a fighter."
"Yeah."
Katniss?
Haymitch? Gale?
Johanna?
Finnick? Annie?
Delly?
Dad?
Mom?
Who's in my room? Why are you here? Just let me sleep!
My skin tingles with pain. My bones ache with tiredness. There's a pinch in my arm where something is… and it just won't go.
Where am I?
What happened?
I'm dead, aren't I?
No, I can't be dead.
Can I?
"Look! He moved!"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes! Look! His eye- did you see that?"
"It was probably just a twitch. Come on, we need to let him rest."
I try to breathe, in and out, but nothing happens. I try to open my eyes, but they won't budge.
I'm dead.
I'm not dead.
But why can't I move?
There's huge gaps in my mind as I drift in and out of sleep.
What time is it?
What day?
How long have I been here?
Where even is here?
Eventually- probably minutes, possibly days, maybe even weeks later- I manage to do it.
After trying so hard for what seems like forever, I can finally accomplish the most futile of tasks
It takes everything. All of my energy, my effort, my concentration, but I do it.
I open my eyes.
I'm in a hospital. I can tell by how white everything is. The ceiling, the walls, the floor. It's all the same. Bright and white and inescapable. There isn't a door.
I'm covered by a white sheet, lying lightly across my skin. But it's hot, so hot. So warm.
Sweat beads on my forehead. I try to lift my arm to wipe it away, but I can't.
My skin pulls when I flex my muscles. It's tight and hot, so, so hot. It feels like I'm still on fire.
That's not the only reason I can't move, though.
There's straps, coming up from beneath me and restraining me, holding me to the bed.
Holding my waist, my arms, my legs, my head. Keeping me absolutely still. I glance down at my arm, where the pinching is. There's a clear tube running from under a sterile dressing on the inside crook of my elbow, disappearing off into the wall behind my head.
Oh god.
I'm in the Capitol.
Snow got me.
Where's my pill?
Oh god.
I'm going to die.
They're going to kill me.
Tracker jackers.
They're going to do it again.
Turn me against Katniss again just when I'd started to love her.
Katniss.
Katniss.
Where are you?
Katniss!
Come save me! Please!
Something constricts inside me. My stomach again, wanting to vomit the non-existent contents of my empty stomach.
Oh god. Oh god.
Help me!
I open my mouth to try and scream out, to shout for help, for Katniss, Haymitch, Gale, anyone to come save me.
Please, help me.
Please.
I try to blink away the tears and hide the sobs, but as soon as I close my eyes I feel myself being pulled under again.
Drowning in the stifling heat of the room, being pushed down by the light sheet, suddenly too heavy on my skin.
Help me, please.
I need to get out of here.
I need to go home.
Please.
Katniss.
Please.
Anybody.
Help me.