CHAPTER 14

Bedridden.

Olive stared at the book Finnick had given her, reading but not understanding. She had long ago lost her mind somewhere else. It had only been a couple of days since she had woken up in a Capitol hospital, with no memories of her survival through the Games.

As far as she knew, three days ago she had been chatting with her twin, Annie. The reaping was still one week away, but Annie was way too worried about Theo to sleep. Olive spent thirty minutes reassuring her twin before she realised that what her sister really needed was someone to be with her, not comforting her.

The bunk beds in the nursery were divided strictly. Each sibling had their own bed, and they did not exchange it. The only time that had happened was three years ago, when Theo fell from the top bunk while sleeping. Gianna, who slept under him, immediately decided to exchange places. Meanwhile, the twins kept sleeping in the same beds they had chosen when they were four years old. Annie slept in the top bunk, and Olive was under in the bottom bunk.

That night, Olive slept next to her twin after a long time sleeping alone. It was cosy and relaxing to do so, a parallel feeling from her hospital bed in the Capitol. It was indeed comfortable, but differently from home. She'd rather be sleeping on the floor of her home than anywhere in the Capitol.

"You've been reading the same page for twenty minutes," Finnick pointed out, changing his position on the armchair beside her bed.

He was one of the many incognitos in her messed up, blurry mind. His gentle tone. The way he kept glancing at her every so often, as if she'd vanish right in front of him. The fact that he has visited every day so far. Like, come on. Did you draw straws with the other three to see who would end up supervising me, and you were chosen twice? That's some bad luck. She thought, resting the book on her chest to look at him.

"No! Really?" Her raspy voice made her sarcastic remark way better in her opinion. And probably in Finnick's as well, as he sniggered, covering his voice with the back of his hand. "Thanks for the book, though. Doctors don't even let me get up from this stupid bed. It's nice to have something to do."

"Yeah, Librae told me about it this morning. That and the million questions you asked her last night," he commented, his smirk growing as he glanced from the book she was holding to her eyes. "You're pretty quiet today. That's worrisome."

"How exactly?" She asked, not understanding his point. In any case, she thought that being quiet would be better than pissing him off, as she had done with Librae.

"Because that means you're silently processing your own thoughts, which are probably not excellent right now. And . . ." He paused, his eyes darting from her eyes to his hands. "Well, because nobody should be left alone with their thoughts."

Olive stared at him blankly, her expression not changing as she analysed him. The way he worried about her kept troubling her. It was like knowing she owed him something without knowing why. Her lips parted before she knew it, voicing her thoughts. "Why do you care so much?"

His eyes widened for a split second. With his lips pressed together into a thin line, he looked up at her. The astonishing sea-green colour of his eyes had sparked something in her mind. It was similar to the quick flash of a camera. Too bright, and too quick to catch it.

"It might sound weird, impossible, even. But we were friends, Olive. We became friends during your training," He stated, his expression unwavering. It wasn't a joke.

"You're telling me that the most famous victor of all Panem . . . And, well, me, became friends? What did we even bond over? Death?" She questioned, her voice raising the more she talked.

"Sort of, yeah." He answered calmly.

Her hands covered her face as she let out a muffled, long sigh. "What the actual fuck, man," she murmured, rubbing her forehead out of frustration.

At night, as usual, Finnick changed places with one of the other mentors. So far, Mags and Librae had stayed the night, making Ron the last one left to stay. Olive wasn't sure why they stayed. There were no cameras around to record it, nor did they have an obligation as mentors. Their work had ended the moment she left the Arena. Now that she was sort of fine, resting in a hospital, there was no real reason for them to be there.

She'd like to complain. Tell them she needed no one to babysit her. However, she couldn't deny that having someone from home by her side while being in the Capitol gave her a strange sense of security. Deep down, she knew nothing could happen to her. She was a victor now. She was untouchable. But something in the back of her mind kept telling her it would be better to have others around, just in case.

"You really are quiet today." Ron got up from the armchair to stretch his arms and legs. He didn't seem fond of staying put for a long time.

"Am I? Didn't notice," Olive mumbled, not particularly intending him to hear.

Ron chuckled softly, leaning on the end of the bed to continue stretching. "Still as sarcastic as always. That's good. By the look on everyone's face, I thought you had done a 180-degree change. I wasn't sure what to do if you started crying and sobbing while begging me to see your family."

"Sorry to disappoint, I guess." Olive pushed herself up, not wanting to be lying down any longer. If she couldn't get up from the bed, she could at least sit up. As soon as she blinked, Ron was already at her side, putting the pillow behind her back, so she hadn't had to do it herself. Those brief moments of kindness that her mentors had were the most confusing to her. "Thanks."

"Don't worry about it." Ron smiled kindly, walking a few steps back. He folded his arms, looking around the room as if looking for something. "There's not much to do here, huh? No wonder you hate it. But we can't do much either. You need to get better soon. Even the slightest infraction could get you one more week in this place."

Her hands intertwined together over her legs, grasping her earring tighter. The doctors had forbidden her from wearing it, just in case there were any unexpected problems. They couldn't waste time taking jewellery off of patients.

"How about we play a game?" Ron suggested, bringing the empty tray of food to her bed. He lifted her hands and left the tray on her legs. There was an open notebook on the tray. The blank page had a pen on top. "We can play the hangman game, noughts and crosses, or any other game you can think of."

Olive raised her eyebrows, surprised at his mentor's suggestion. She immediately shook any doubts off of her mind, and accepted, choosing the hangman game. At first, Ron made things obviously easy, letting her win. However, as time passed, he also began getting fired up and complicating the word she had to guess. It got to a point where they changed from guessing words to entire phrases.

"I am not saying that out loud," Ron declared, knowing what the phrase Olive had made him guess. She chuckled softly, nodding along. It was probably not a good idea to say 'The Capitol is stupid' aloud in the middle of a Capitol building. "Come on, Olive, play seriously."

"You're just bitter because I'm winning." She scratched the phrase, making sure it was unrecognisable from what it said, before giving it back to Ron so he could plan his next phrase.

"I am not," he insisted, though it didn't convince her. He drew a few lines on the notebook, leaving a space for the hangman in case she failed. "All right, ready."

"How many letters?" Olive asked.

"Seventeen, just like your age," he answered, a snigger leaving his lips at the realisation of the coincidence.

"Hm, is there an 'a'?" The game continued, Olive guessing most of it, only failing in a letter or two. "Well, I'm not reading that out loud either."

The phrase Ron had written was no other than 'I love Finnick Odair'. Something Olive didn't feel particularly comfortable saying. Ron's grin widened and muttered, "Payback."

The game night ended at one in the morning, more by Olive's petition than Ron's loss' acceptance. Her eyes were already begging her to close them when Ron lifted the tray from her legs, leaving it somewhere else. Before her eyes closed completely, she muttered, loud enough for her mentor to hear, "Goodnight Ron." He said something back, but she was way too tired to hear it.

Her eyes opened abruptly, glancing at her surroundings. She was in a strange, desert-like place. Fear consumed her. Just where was she? There was no time to process anything as a scream resonated in the place. Before she knew what she had to do, her body was moving, running to the side of a tall, metallic building. The Cornucopia.

A mutt-like animal appeared right in front of her, blocking her path to the side of the Cornucopia, where her body seemed to be planning to climb. Even though she was unable to think or speak, her voice commanded, "Move out of my way." Her hands moved on their own once again, shooting an arrow at the animal's eyes, making it step backwards. Her body used the opportunity to pass by. However, the mutt was quicker, taking her down and attacking her with its stinger.

Pain shoot through her body, forcing her eyes open — this time to reality. Sea-green was the first thing she saw. As her vision got clearer, she realised the colour was in fact someone's eyes. There was only one person she knew with that intense colour. "Hey, Finnick."

"Hey, Olive," he muttered, his voice rather shaky. "Did you have a nightmare or something?"

She nodded. "Yeah, it was weird."

"How so?"

Olive doubted, but soon was explaining everything she had seen and felt. "The fucker stung me. The shitty thing made me feel like I was dying from the pain."

Finnick kept staring at her, his eyes widening slightly as she continued explaining. When she finished, he brought a hand to his chin, looking down at the sheets for a second before announcing. "Olive, that wasn't just any dream. That happened. You remembered."

She couldn't help but widen her eyes in surprise. The memory gave her mixed feelings about remembering. If that had happened in her Games, just what other atrocities could have happened? "Please, tell me that's the worst thing that happened to me in there."

His hand grabbed a hold of hers, a comforting, sad smile letting her know the answer to her question. "No, it wasn't."

Her eyes closed for a few seconds, needing a bit of darkness to gather her thoughts to make a sense of them. That mutt, the one that had stung her, making pain shot through her body, wasn't the worst thing to happen to her. What in the world could the worst thing be, then?

"Don't worry about it yet. Your Games' highlights won't happen until next week. Take some time to calm down and relax." Finnick squeezed her hand reassuringly, unknowingly worrying her further.

The Games' highlights. She had forgotten about them. The day when the new victor would see the most interesting things that had happened during their stay in the Arena. From deaths to kills, everything important or related to the victor would be shown.

"No!" She shouted involuntarily, taking a couple of deep breaths to calm down. "Please, you tell me, Finnick. Don't let me go there to find out what happened. I'd rather die than break down in front of them. Please, Finnick, please."

He doubted, bringing his free hand to his neck to rub it nervously. "You—" He began, cutting himself to gather his thoughts. His free hand left his neck to engulf hers between his. His eyes were locked on hers. "You have to promise not to interrupt, OK? I'll tell you everything from start to finish, but it's a long story. Any questions you might have will probably be answered after a couple of seconds."

Olive nodded, shifting to get herself in a more comfortable position for the story time. She saw Finnick's lips parting, only to close immediately a couple of times. He didn't know where to start. That, or he was too overwhelmed by whatever had happened, that saying it aloud hurt him.

"So, as you've kinda remembered, you appeared in a desert Arena—" He kept his promise, explaining every little detail he could remember.

She listened thoroughly, trying to puzzle all the bits of information together somewhere in her mind. It was strange. She knew Finnick wasn't lying to her. Yet, it felt so surreal that she couldn't help but feel like she was listening to someone's tale. Was that how the residents from the Capitol felt about every Hunger Games? The apathy she felt about every twist, turn, and death was just like theirs?

"That's when they got you out. The Capitol was in an uproar until the news was displayed everywhere hours later." Finnick finished explaining, his eyes still analysing her change of expressions.

Olive's eyes darted around, from his eyes to her hands, then the sheets. She was furious and frightened. Frightened because she couldn't remember a thing about everything her mentor had just told her. And furious because she couldn't be anything but apathetic about it.

She'd rather cry. Sob and whimper over the loss of her ally, who she couldn't even remember. Be afraid of the fact that she had killed people. Angry at everyone in the Capitol for making her go through all that. Frightened that she'd have to watch it happen in a week. Terrified of what her family and people in her district would think of her, a murderer that had chosen someone from Seven over their own district partner.

"It's OK," Finnick whispered, squeezing her hand comfortingly. "It'll be fine."

The small action brought a half-arsed memory back. It was like something had sparked in her mind, though no image appeared. Just the sensation. She remembered that feeling, holding his hand. The comfort that it brought her. How it almost felt like her hand was being engulfed, being protected from anything that could come her way.

"If you say so," Olive whispered back, a smile forming on her lips. "I don't have another choice but to believe you, do I?"

He sniggered while shaking his head. "Yeah, you don't. So you better believe me when I say you'll soon be home. Your family must be waiting impatiently to grab a hold of you. It wouldn't surprise me if they don't let you out of their sight until the Victor Tour."

"You talk like you know them."

"I've heard a few things about your family from you."

"Did I brag about them or something?"

"Yeah, something like that. Let's just say you're a very committed older sibling."

Olive chuckled, rubbing her forehead with her free hand. "I want to go back so badly. If I could escape her and take the train, I would."

Finnick smiled, nodding along. "I know that feeling." Then he sighed. "Just a few more days, Olive. Then you'll have a pretty decent break until the Victor Tour."

A comfortable silence reigned in the room for the rest of the day. Both Olive and Finnick continued reading their respective books, while not letting go of the other's hand. Turning pages was difficult, to say the least, with only one hand, but they had a nasty feeling about letting go as if they would banish immediately. Not even when Mags arrived for her night shift did, they let go. They stopped reading first, chatting with the elder woman until Finnick had to leave.

From time to time, Olive would close her hand and then let it back to its relaxed position. She would have never guessed that letting go of someone's hand could make her feel so empty. It felt as if something was missing. Like she needed to be holding something. She grabbed a hold of her sheets, but it didn't work. She tried many other things. The book. A scarf. Her earring. Nothing gave her the warm feeling that her subconscious was looking for.

She fidgeted with the earring in her hand, admiring the golden colour reflecting the artificial light. The matching set was so far away. Her other half, Annie, was so far away from her. She brought the piece of jewellery to her lips, kissing it dearly as she imagined home. As rusty and old as usual. Theo making some trouble as always. Gianna going after him to reprimand him. She and Annie just watching amusedly. Her father telling them to tone it down. The graveyard deep in the woods, where they occasionally went to visit their mother's and grandparents' graves.

Light soon shone through the blinds. Olive wasn't sure when she had fallen asleep last night, but Mags sure had made sure to tug her in like a baby, taking every object away from her. All of them rested on the table beside the bed, less than a metre away from the armchair.

The door opened abruptly, startling Olive, who sat up immediately to encounter the intruder. A doctor stood at the end of the bed, a clipboard carefully compressed against their chest. Mags tilted her head to look at them, expecting an explanation for the sudden appearance.

"Miss Cresta has been allowed to walk from now on, though it must be under thirty minutes. We'll deliver further instructions soon." The doctor said, took a look at his board, and left.