Katniss's POV
Five days since the rescue mission...
The nurse feeds me spoonfuls of some bland soup (similar to the kind in my cell) as I sit uselessly in my hospital bed. My head throbs and my body feels weak, but at least the illusions are gone... mostly.
Seeing Haymitch and Gale's faces the moment I awoke relieved me, but my usual relationship with Haymitch soon returned when my annoyance with him grew as he kept avoided my questions about Peeta.
They tell me he's here. That he's just down the hall, but I've never been the trusting type. Though, I became more convinced when my mother and Prim visited with me and I was assured yet again that he was here and safe-just like me.
I never imagined the amount of tears that would surface upon seeing my family. I thought for sure that they were dead. I thought Thirteen had been blasted out of the ground by the Capital's bombs. But the excitement took over to see Prim as a nurse. She's grown so much since the last time we were together, it's hard to think of her as the little duck I knew before.
As the nurse forces me to drain the bowl of the tasteless broth, Haymitch enters my room. I give him the usual glare.
"Are you finally going to give me any news?" I ask.
The left end of his lip curls into a smile.
"Glad to see you acting more like yourself."
"Answer my question."
He rolls his eyes at my attitude.
"Listen. There are... complications with this whole thing. I don't think you're ready to be exposed to everything yet." He chooses his words carefully, placing himself in a chair beside the bed. I feel like I'm being talked to like a child. What does he mean I'm not ready to be exposed to everything?
What is going on that I'm not aware of?
"Haymitch... is he okay?" I ask him, my voice shaky.
He lets out a breath.
"He's alive. The doctors are stabilizing him." He says, not meeting my eyes.
"But, will he be okay?" I repeat. I can already feel my heart begin to race as I wait for the impending answer.
Haymitch ponders the question, a small smile slowly beginning to trace his lips.
"That boy survived two Hunger Games and dealt with the uncertainty of Katniss Everdeen. I think he'll be fine," he answers quietly.
Heat rushes to my face and stare down at my hands gripping the pale colored bedsheets. I never realized how much pain I must have caused Peeta up until now. The guilt threatens to consume me.
"When can I-" I clear my throat. "-When can I see him?" I look up at Haymitch again, blinking away stray tears.
"Well, as soon as this kind lady lets you leave your room." Haymitch eyes the nurse next to me with a smirk. She scowls at him in return.
"Don't try and tempt me. She's barely recuperated since we admitted her."
I want to roll my eyes.
Haymitch grins.
"How about say the day after tomorrow?" He asks me more than my nurse, obviously ignoring her comment.
She begins to shake her head, but I stop her.
"Yes. I need to see him-please." I plead.
"Her sister would probably be more than happy to wheel her to his room. She won't even have to leave the bed." Haymitch presses.
The nurse at last sighs, giving a small nod. A smile spreads across Haymitch's face.
"Good then. Okay Sweetheart, I'll see you later." Haymitch pats my arm and nods to the nurse.
"Very cooperative." He winks.
"Get." She says through gritted teeth, pointing to the door.
A laugh almost escaped my lips as I watch him slip out.
I wait in agony the following day for my visit. Prim tries to keep me entertained. We take turns braiding each other's hair and playing the silly hand games I taught her when she was little. She also offers to sing and dance for me for fun, but it's just her presence that comforts me.
"We'd probably be more entertained if Buttercup was here. I'm sure there's lots of games we could play with him." Prim says after what looked to be a tiring dance session in the corner of the hospital room as she collapses onto my bed.
I let out a laugh. "That blasted cat would probably just cause me more problems with mental health. Just that sight of his smashed orange face annoys me." I scowl, remembering how much I hate my sister's pet.
Prim's face saddens slightly and she ducks her head.
"I'm sorry Prim," I tell her guiltily, reaching out to stroke her hair.
"It's okay, it's just... he may be gone. Lady, too." She admits in a quiet voice.
"Oh no... I'm sure-I'm sure both of them are living in the Meadow or off in the woods somewhere." I try to assure her, tucking a strain of blond hair behind her ear.
She crawls to the head of the bed to hug me.
"I've missed you so much. I was so worried... when they said you'd been captured-I-I-" She lets out a sob. I shake my head.
"No, no, don't cry little duck. Shhh... I know, I know..." I try to comfort her, but soon realize that in the end it won't matter. Prim's been exposed to things I can't keep her from anymore. She's grown out of her childlike self that I once knew.
So I let her cry in my arms and hold her as tightly as I can until dinner arrives. Prim reluctantly has to go. The nurse shoos her out, though she is gentler to her than Haymitch.
"After dinner she is getting another examination done with the doctor, but than you may see her." She tells Prim as the door shuts firmly.
I let out a sigh and slowly eat the tasteless food on my tray, knowing that I must get it down somehow with the nurse in the room. The examination is quick and completed as usual, and the doctor makes some notes on his clipboard.
My boredom soon returns when he departs and I settle myself under the covers for the night with sharp eyes of the nurse watching me. I lay my head down on the fluffed pillow as I stress over the possibility of sleeping.
My dreams have been yet more horrifying since coming to Thirteen. The nurse began to give me sleeping medication on the second night, but I stuffed the pills in my pillowcase when she's wasn't paying attention. I've known since being in rehab that the drugs never help.
So I sleep on and off. Sometimes fifteen minutes, sometimes up to two hours. Never getting a full night's rest. If I sleep too long the voices return and the stench of the blood from Peeta's tortures somehow makes its way to my nose.
Heart thumping, I glance over at the nurse. She usually leaves the room around eleven once she believes me to be out like a rock. That's when they say the sleeping medicine kicks in. Of course I've learned to fake it until she leaves, then I can freely pace the room; unsure what else to do with myself. It helps some (and nobody knows I've left the bed since arriving), but I'd rather roam around the hospital wing to find Peeta tonight. Why wait until tomorrow when I'll have restrictions and only limited time to be with him?
Calming my body and shutting my eyes tight, my ears hear the nurse slip out as the clock ticks eleven. I decide to wait at least five minutes before I open my eyes and another fifteen before I unhook the IVs from my arms. The ruffle of bedsheets and quiet beeping of the machines are the only sounds echoeing around the room as my bare feet hit the cold floor.
I shrug a blanket over my shoulders and edge my way to the door. Inhaling, I grip the handle and pull. Slipping out hastily, I turn and jam my blanket through the crack to prop open the door for it locks on the outside. My eyes scan the empty hallways, checking for any stray nurses on the possible night shift. There's nobody in sight.
Where do I find his room number? Is my next question.
Information is usually provided in the lobby. Conveniently, across from me is the door to lead me there.
His face and number appears on the screens behind a large half-circle desk and I turn on my heel and follow the path leading me to room 211.
If I'm lucky enough I can get through the door and wake him. I daydream about what his reaction will be when we meet as I glide down the hallways, moving as fast as my tired body will allow. I know we've only been separated for a month, but the solitude has been agonizing.
Of course it's locked when I turn the knob. Just like mine is. I look through the curtained windows peeking into his room. Maybe if I can grab his attention he'll open it for me, but my heart seems to drop to my stomach when I my eyes find his stiff appearance.
Tubes stick out in strange directions as they web thoughout his body and stuffed down his throat. A breathing machine sits beeping in the corner as well as a rolling IV pole. Eyes shut, he lays practically dead on the bed, the mattress flattened completely so that his head faces the ceiling.
I clamp my hand over my mouth and tear my eyes from the sight. Haymitch glossed over the entire situation to me. He's not okay. Nothing about this is okay. I press my hands to the glass, taking in gulps of air. I don't want to look back at his frozen body, but somehow I do. And the screams begin to return. The sounds of bodies hitting the floor, clubs against flesh, sharp objects penetrating the skin... and blood. The awful, consuming smell of blood that causes you to gag.
Wimpering, I sink to the floor. Black spots seem to dance before my eyes. I forcefully attempt to blink them away, but it does no good. I slip into the darkness, my head leaning into the sealed door.
A/N: I apologize for my temporary hiatus, but I'm back! New chapters are coming soon! -avalizzie