Eventually, I feel myself waking up, in every way but opening my eyes. I can hear the silence of wherever I am now echo even louder than any actual noise would be. I can feel the soft sheets beneath my skin. I don't really want to wake up, I dreamily think. I don't really need to wake up from this peaceful sleep. I wouldn't ever have to face the world. My left hand brushes over my right arm, and I feel something. Something that makes my eyes open, however much I didn't want to. A bright white bandage covers my upper arm, covering an injury. An injury from what, I wonder. From Katniss's arrow, my subconscious answers for me. My mind still struggling to get out of the hold of whatever drugs the Capitol gave me asks, Who's Katniss? Cato killed Katniss, I remind myself. It's that thought that jerks me back into reality. The bright white lights overhead that shine down on the room illuminate the hospital style bed I'm in, along with a small nightstand next to it and the door with the window pane inset. One wall, the one leading along the hallway, was paneled with glass as well, making me feel exposed. My first instinct is to leap away, out of this room, to find out where I am. I examine my arms, trying to find any of the various cuts and scratches I sustained during the Games. But my arms are smooth, with only the slightest of marks left. In looking at my arms, I look at my fingers, the nails of which have been cleaned and manicured. Evidently the Capitol already took care of making me look like I'd never even entered the arena. I can't stay here, I think. I need to get out. But as I move to get out of the bed, I notice a few tubes and wires connected to my body that start beeping. I stop moving and lay back. As I do, whatever they were injecting into my veins threatened to pull me back into the dark sleep I'd just escaped from. I won't fall back into unconsciousness. If I did, who knows how long it could be until I wake up. My vision blurs as I pull myself back up to a sitting position. I can't stay here. I need to get out. A wave of claustrophobia comes over me and I yank hard at the strap, putting in any and all strength I have left, ignoring the massive pain. As I do so, I notice through the windowed wall that a passing doctor has taken note of my apparently futile struggle. He turns and a few moments later another doctor steps in, clipboard in hand. "Get me out of here", I restrain myself from screaming. "All in good time, all in good time. We need to wait for a few days before you can leave, make sure you're healing correctly", he responds not even looking up. Infuriated, I raise my voice to say, "I feel fine! What difference does it make if you let me out a day or two early?" "There are arrangements to be made", he goes on a bit about my arm injury and what the tubes in my arm are doing. I tune most of this out and am lost in my own world for a while. "And your stylist would like to see you, to discuss plans for the upcoming victory ceremony". At this my attention veers sharply back to him. Maraine. I'd almost forgotten that I'd ever had a stylist, that there had been a world outside the Games at all. I fall back against the pillows they'd propped up against the headboard of the bed. "I'll tell her to speak to you in a day or so, once you're more rested", he says, mistaking my surprise for fatigue. "No", I jolt back up. "I'll see her now". He raises his eyebrows, but doesn't argue as he leaves the room. I don't really want to see Maraine much, but I would rather talk to anyone than be left alone in this insane asylum of a room. The door swings open again and a head of bright blue-blonde hair pops through. "Well, well, well. Lovely to see you again". It surprises me that it's good to see her too. So I say, "Same to you". I see surprise flash over face as well. I don't blame her, I'm not an affectionate type of person, especially not with anyone from the Capitol. But she smiles at me, making her purple facial gems flash, and I can tell she appreciates it. "Now then. The president would like the victory ceremonies to occur as soon as possible." The victory ceremonies. All my life I'd dreamed of winning the Games, of creating a better life for myself. But I'd never thought about what that life would be like. I'd spent years training for the Games, and it had been the only thing I'd been good, even great, at. Now that I didn't have that, what did I have? "That would mean, preferably as soon as the doctors see fit to release you." Release me. As if I didn't feel enough like a caged animal already, what with the being confined down, the sedatives, and the windowed wall. "I feel fine", I say again. This is a lie; my arrow wound still sends pain through my arm whenever I moved it too abruptly and black dots clouded my vision occasionally. I'd say anything to be able to leave this room though. "Nevertheless. They want you here for another twenty-four hours before letting you leave". Defeated, my shoulders fall a bit. Apparently I can say I feel fine however much I like, but no one's going to believe me. I sigh, and as I do, I'm aware of a small bandage over my heart. And that brings my mind to another question. "Is he alright?" To Maraine's credit, she didn't have to ask who "he" was, although it would probably have been obvious to anyone. "About in the same condition as you, from what I've heard, maybe a bit better. But my information is limited; I'm not his stylist". "Can I see him?" The question comes out involuntarily, I'd meant to dismiss it as a passing thought. Once I say it though, I realize how much I want to see him. Why, I've no idea. But I do. "You're not even allowed to leave your bed for at least two days, how is it that you think you'd be able to go see him? And once you're allowed to leave, the opening ceremonies will happen almost immediately after. So no, you can't see him until then". I fall silent, not sure there's anything left to say. "Well, then, I'll be back tomorrow to discuss plans", she gives me one of the Capitol's favored three-finger waves and disappears out the door and down the hall, before I can stop her from leaving me alone in this prison.