The Whipping
Gale's back burned. The pain was crippling as he struggled to breathe. His life was draining and it freaked him out. With each passing movement the pain in his back amplified a thousand times worse than the second before. The pain dwindled slowly, draining the pain to just above bearable.
He took a shaky breath in. He moved again. He was constantly moving, trying to divert the pain to a different area of his back. If he laid still too long his back burned like hell's fires. But moving only made ripples of pain shoot through his entire body. It was an endless loopy loop.
Black spots covered his vision and than would fade to bright white spots. He hiccuped for breath. Hot, heavy tears burned down his face. He just couldn't catch his breath! His heart was pumping as fast as a cheetah running in the jungle. His hands were slick with sweat and he would fumble against the counter, his chin smacking against the wood once or twice.
The pain was endless.
The spots covering his vision only multiplied.
His beating heart never slowed.
He was scared. And he hated to admit it.
In and out, in and out he went with the world. The world was there one moment and gone the next. He could tell when it was going to happen by the way his muscles tightened and his head felt light and heavy at the same time.
He scream. He screamed one word. He knew he did, but he couldn't figure out what he said. He knew it must have been odd because of the looks everyone gave one another. Haymitch's eyes met his and he nodded. Gale had no idea why.
He continues to scream over and over again. The same word. He knew it was the same. But he still couldn't figure it out.
His mother was crying. He watched the tears slip down her face slowly. The pain was evident in her eyes. A thousand different emotions swam around in her eyes. Her eyes were like a tornado, the emotions swirled in an endless circular motion. Pain, emotional pain, builds up in his chest. He never meant to make his mother cry. He didn't want her to cry. He went to reach for her but spasms of pain struck his body. He screamed the word again. His back arched up off the table and his stomach squeezed far too tight. He retched all over the floor. The splashing sound was sickening and made him throw up again. His mouth tasted of metallic and his stomach burned with acid, his head whirled.
The world was looming in on him like the black clouds of a thunderstorm, fast and hard. He just let it happen this time. He was too weak to fight against it.
What seemed like hours later, cold hands wrapped around his cheeks. The icy coldness of the hands cleared his vision and he could smell the sunflower scent of Madge. His Madge. His eyes peeled open slowly. Her blonde hair was framing her face, her nose was as red as Rudolph's, her eyes shine with worry.
"Gale." Her voice was a whisper, mingling with his thoughts and emotions. He felt stronger in her presence.
"Madge." He began to whisper back but ended up screaming as another course of pain carried through his body. The word. That was the word he was screaming, is screaming. That's why Haymitch nodded. He understood. He knew.
Madge.
He would fight for her. He loved her, he realized through the haze of pain. He didn't care what the world thought in that moment. He didn't care what her father might think, or his mother. He needs Madge. She even him out. He made him feel stronger than he actually was.
"Madge." He whispers against her wrist, his hands gripping her forearms hard. He presses his lips further against her wrist, kissing it. He can feel the pulsing of her heart against his lips. Her heart was pounding but was slower than his. He focused on it.
He strained to hear her breathing and focused on that too. He tries to match his with hers.
She crouched down, her eyes level with his, "Live." was all she said.