Imagine if I put these at the start of every chapter?
Also, I know these are short chapters but I write better like that.
And I like reviews, they reach me in my warm and squishy places.
ok
The smiling doesn't last long.
As soon as I'm asleep, my nightmares are back in full force. I see Brittany again, lying in the field where she died, still pinned to the ground, but instead of Rachel coming out of the cave, its Quinn. This shifts to images of Quinn beating Blaine to death under the tree I'm perched in, and even Quinn ripping the sword through Jesse's chest.
I wake up in a cold sweat, with a pounding head.
It becomes apparent when I'm showering that the headache is from alcohol, and not from the dream. I dress slowly then shuffle down to the dining room and slump into a chair.
One of our attendants, the red haired avox, smiles sympathetically at me and disappears from the room. She reappears a minute later carrying a tube of pills, and places them down in front of me.
I look up at her and smile, mumbling a thank you, when I really see her face for the first time.
I try to avoid looking at them, the avox's, because they make me feel terrible just by looking at them. But it's the look in her eyes, the look of pure terror, which stops my hand from reaching for the bottle of pills. She must be about the age of Katniss, if a little older. She's pretty. I want to sweep her up in my arms and run away with her, hide her from the Capitol and the monsters that inhabit it, but I don't, instead I reach out and rub her arm. She flinches, then smiles a little when she realises I'm not going to hit her.
This poor girl, she could've had her entire life ahead of her, but they've ruined it now. I feel a fire spark in my stomach and slowly spread along my body. The fire of the rebellion in full bloom.
By the time Sue is up and nursing her own hangover, I'm sitting in front of the television, leaning forward with a mug of coffee clutched in both hands. Sue sits down next to me and rubs at the bridge of her nose before turning her attention to the screen.
Katniss is groggy, she's moving slowly and she's obviously dehydrated. She stops and looks around before saying the word "Water" as loud as she can muster.
I know she's talking to us.
"Should we send her some?" I ask Sue, looking away from the screen momentarily.
"Not yet. She's stronger than that. She'll find it." I want to protest, but something about Sue's tone tells me not to argue with her.
We watch for a little while longer before I leave to get ready.
By late afternoon, part of me is sure Katniss is going to die, and I'm itching to send her water but Sue refuses.
She's so close when she finally stumbles and falls into the muddy ground. I stop my conversation midway through and look up at the screen. She's drawing patterns with her fingers in the mud, not realising that it's actually mud she's lay in.
Then her eyes fly open and she looks around wildly before getting to her feet and scrambling along, coming to a stop just in front of a pond. She looks amazed.
I'm proud of her when she takes out her flask and scoops up some water, adding in some iodine. A weaker person would've plunged straight into the water, probably poisoning themselves.
When she finally takes a drink, some of the crowd actually cheers, and I can't help the smile that cracks across my face. Across the room I see Quinn smiling at me, and despite my torn feelings on the situation we're in, I blush.