Chapter 37: Recovery

It's dark, and I hurt. There's no sound except for the whirr of medical machines.

My eyes flutter open.

I am in a dim room. The small windows on my right show a hazy light. I don't know if the sun is rising or setting. I try to sit up, but fail. My right arm and shoulder burn with the slightest movement. I wear a loose hospital gown. It sags around my bony body. An IV drip hangs beside the bed, flowing into my arm. Several bruises and bandages are scattered across my exposed skin. With considerable effort, I force the covers away from my legs. They are a mass of scrapes, bruises, and bandages.

I try to sit up again, but I still can't manage it. There isn't a place on my body that doesn't ache, so I give up, deciding to rest a few minutes before trying again.

I doze. I wake up periodically, but my eyes are heavy and I drift off. The next time my eyes stay open, the sun streams brightly in my window. Dr. Dawson hovers around my bed, checking the machines.

"How do you feel?" He asks.

"It hurts."

"I know," he replies. "I'll have someone give you another dose of medication."

I don't reply. I stare at my hands, knowing Dr. Dawson will get around to telling me about Logan. I don't want to rush it. I'm not sure I want to hear it at all.

"Mr. Reinhart came through his surgery just fine," Dr. Dawson says.

I jerk my head up, searching for any hint of deception.

Dr. Dawson smiles. "I was even able to salvage the leg, though he'll need extensive physical therapy."

I rest my head on my pillow and blink back tears.

Logan's alive!

I try to cover my face, but my arms are too heavy.

"Thank you," I whisper.

Dr. Dawson pats me softly on the foot, which appears to be my only uninjured body part. He checks each of my bandages, and my eyes and ears. He makes me move my arms and legs, which is so painful that I curse him viciously. He doesn't seem to mind.

The rest of the day goes by in a blur. I am given ridiculously small portions of food at regular intervals. Dr. Dawson keeps his word about the pain medication, so I get a few more hours of blissful sleep. The worst part comes when a woman from the medical team changes my bandages. I curse her more derisively than I did Dr. Dawson, and she seems to mind quite a bit more than he did.

When night falls, my mind wanders. I wonder how long they'll keep me in this tiny room. No one has mentioned anything about my family coming to visit, or when I can see Logan. The elation of survival starts to fade. I've spent all this time struggling to stay alive.

And now I have to live with it.

I've done some terrible things, all in the name of saving my family, or saving Logan. I was so certain of my death, I never considered what I would do if I lived. I guess I thought my death would redeem me somehow. Even though I'd killed, I would be killed too. I would suffer the same injustice that I inflicted on others. And somehow, that made me feel better. It made me feel less guilty. I deserved to die for what I'd done.

But I didn't.

Now is the time to feel guilty, to hold myself accountable for the evils I've committed. I try to think of each face, each person I murdered, but I can't. I don't even know their names. The old Corenn would mourn for each person in turn. The old Corenn would have their names memorized. But I'm not the old Corenn.

I push the guilt to the back of my mind. I'll deal with it later, when I have someone to talk to, someone to help me through it.

When I'm with Logan again.

I try to close my eyes and rest. I dream of Eleanor and Charles. I dream of Logan's mangled leg. When Dr. Dawson comes to check on me at dawn, I am awake and gripping the bed to keep my eyes from closing again.

"You should be resting," he says.

"I can't."

Dr. Dawson perches on the chair beside my bed.

"Are you in pain?" He asks. I can tell he already knows the answer.

"No," I say. "Not really."

Dr. Dawson leans forward. "I want to help you, Corenn. What do you need?"

I am silent for a few beats. "I need to see Logan," I say.

Dr. Dawson hangs his head. "I'm sorry," he says. "But I can't help with that. My hands are tied."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask.

"The medical staff has been informed that you and Logan are not to interact until the Closing Ceremonies."

My heart sinks. "When's that?"

"We'll have to wait for Logan to recover enough to attend the event. It's up to him."

Dr. Dawson grips my hand. I hadn't realized I was shaking.

Alone. I will have to go through the next few days alone. Without my partner. The only one left who truly understands what I went through in the arena. Dr. Dawson's eyes are on my face. He becomes more and more alarmed as my thoughts carry me away. He stands up.

"I'm going to give you a sedative," He says bluntly. "You'll be able to sleep in peace." He sticks his head out the door and says something. Then he returns. "I'm going to see if I can't make things a little better for you while you rest."

A woman peeks in the door and hands him a syringe. He injects a yellow fluid into my IV tube.

I watch him without complaint.

"Do you feel tired yet?" He asks.

"I don't remember what it's like to not feel tired," I reply.

Dr. Dawson smiles grimly. "Yes, well, you're safe now, Corenn. You can rest."

I let my eyes close, and I try to get comfortable. The medicine takes effect, my mind growing foggy. I repeat Dr. Dawson's words in my head.

You're safe now. You're safe now. You're safe now.

But I don't believe it.

The next time my eyes open, the mid-afternoon sun bathes my room in warmth. My head is still foggy from the sedative, and the brightness of the room makes me groan.

"Are ya hurtin, Hon?"

I nearly jump out of my skin. My head jerks to the chair beside my bed. Elias sits, wide-eyed and alarmed, ready to hop from his seat to help me. I smile, immediately calmed. A slow grin spreads across Elias's face.

"Well, ya did it," he says. "Ya made it." His eyes get misty. "I can't tell ya how proud I am. And how thankful."

I look away. The old Corenn was much better with emotional conversations.

"Thanks," I say.

Elias clears his throat and relaxes in the chair.

"Doc says your havin trouble sleepin," He says.

"Yeah, a little." I shrug.

Elias grins. "You were doin a pretty good job of it when I came in."

I laugh softly. There's nothing like a talk with Elias to lighten my mood.

For the rest of the afternoon, Elias talks, and I listen. He doesn't ask me any questions, and he doesn't talk about upsetting things. He tells me my family misses me "somethin fierce" and that James and Marda wanted to come sit with me too but they weren't allowed. He explains that Dr. Dawson appealed to Alanton himself in order to get permission for someone to visit me. Alanton would allow no relatives, and only one member of my prep team.

"Doc told him ya needed somebody to help with your "psychological condition", or somethin like that," Elias says. "Alanton tried to hire ya a specialist, but Doc argued him down. Told him ya just needed somebody ya knew."

I should really try to be nicer to Dr. Dawson.

When the sun gets low in the sky, a man brings us supper. Elias is served a heaping plate of meat and potatoes.

I get half a sandwich and some kind of milky protein shake.

Elias slips me bites of his food while I try to down the nasty drink.

When "dinner" is over, Dr. Dawson comes to check on me.

"How's Logan?" I blurt before he can say anything.

Dr. Dawson smiles. "We're keeping him heavily sedated for now," he says. "But his vitals are holding up nicely, and everything is healing like it's supposed to." He fiddles with one of my monitors. "He's going to be just fine, Corenn, but it's going to take some time."

I sigh.

Time.

A few days ago, I thought I had so little of it. Now, I'm in a holding pattern, waiting for life to make sense again.

I wonder if it ever will.

Dr. Dawson checks every injury on my body, even the smallest scrape. He makes notes on a clipboard and keeps up a polite conversation with Elias. I don't bother listening to them. I stare outside. The sun is setting, and the sky is a lovely shade of orange. It makes me think of Logan. I don't know why. I guess anything beautiful reminds me of him. I wonder what he's dreaming about in his endless slumber.

"Did ya hear that, Renn?" Elias says, slapping his knee.

"Wait, what?" I snap my attention back to the men beside my bed.

"We're going to get you out of bed tomorrow and let you walk around," Dr. Dawson says. "If you can manage without much trouble, then we'll discharge you the next morning. You'll get to see your family."

My face lights up. "Really?"

"Really," says Dr. Dawson.

I think of Kade and his perfect little face. Oh, how I've missed that boy. But what will he think of me? I look at my body. There's hardly any skin that isn't damaged in some way. My heart sinks.

"They can't see me like this," I say. "I'll scare them."

Elias shakes his head. "Now don't you worry about that," he says. "James is gonna fix ya up real nice before ya leave here."

I'm comforted immediately. James can work miracles with makeup. He'll make me look presentable, at least.

Dr. Dawson finishes his examination and leaves. A woman comes in with a blanket and pillow for Elias. He arranges them on his chair and insists that he's comfortable. I know he isn't, but I don't want him to leave, so I pretend I believe him. I sleep peacefully and dreamlessly, with hope that tomorrow will be my last day of confinement.

In the morning, Dr. Dawson comes, as promised, and helps me out of bed. My sore body aches with displeasure, but I refuse to complain. I walk around the tiny room for a while, and when Dr. Dawson is satisfied, he allows me to walk in the maze-like corridors outside the door. Elias stays close in case I fall, but after I get used to being on my feet, I don't stumble even once. My right leg throbs with each step. The dense lines of stitches pull with every movement. And I don't care. I will show Dr. Dawson that I'm well enough to leave this place. I don't care how much it hurts.

I spend most of the day walking and resting at regular intervals. I guzzle my nasty shake at lunchtime, and I keep walking. I feel stronger already. Being helpless in bed only added to my problems, and now I'm passed that. With so many issues to resolve in my mind, I'm glad to be free of one of them. By suppertime, Dr. Dawson is absolutely convinced that I'm ready to be discharged.

"I'd let you leave tonight, but your stylist says your dress isn't ready," He says.

I roll my eyes. There's no telling what James will make me wear.

Elias's snores lull me to sleep again, and for once, my dreams are hopeful.

A/N: First of all, THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU for reading! Second of all, I've got to say, one of the things that bugged me about The Hunger Games was that it ended so abruptly after the Games. I understand why- Suzanne Collins didn't want to start up the second book before the first one was over- but hey, I don't have to do that! I wanted some details about the immediate aftermath of the Games, especially some Katniss/Peeta moments (that weren't in front of a camera). So I guess what I'm saying is...I've written six more chapters for this story, and most of them aren't essential. But I will post them over time, and you can read them if you'd like to (I hope you'd like to!).