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SONG PREFERENCE:Summertime Sadness by Lana Del Rey
"Start with something easy. Start with what you know." Desolated and a mess, Greyson sat in the corner of the room, shaking and clutching her tangled hair like she had a rope around her neck and was trying hard to breathe. "My name is Greyson Hunter. Victor of the 66th Hunger Games. I made President Snow angry. He trapped me inside my house for years. Finnick . . . . " Greyson stopped herself, sobbing into the back of her knees that were pushed up against her chest. She breathed heavily before continuing. "Finnick was left behind. He's probably dead, maybe it'd be better if he was dead."
"Miss Hunter?" A gentle voice entered her hospital room, their shoes scuffing against the floor. It was her doctor, the one who had her trying out this new technique whenever she felt, lost.
Greyson hit her head against the wall as she threw it back, closing her eyes. "I'm okay, please leave." It came out hoarse and thick, indicating that she had been crying.
"You're needed in central command, we were requested to escort you."
Greyson sniffled, wiping her eyes and crawling onto her feet, exposing her small figure to a tall dark skinned man and her doctor, who gave her a reassuring smile. Greyson shuffled over to them silently, red eyed and in her thin hospital gown with bare feet. She recognized the man dressed down in all black, a communicuff around his wrist.
"This way, Miss Hunter." The man led her outside the room and into an elevator. It was silent on the ride down, until Greyson spoke up.
"Is there any news?"
Much to Greyson's surprise, the man looked as if he didn't know the answer to her question. Or he just didn't want to tell her. "I'm just here to escort you," was his response.
Greyson shuffled toward the edge of the elevator, looking down at all of the people. She saw a variation of people from District 12 and 13, all dressed down in dark gray jumpsuits. "We were always told there was nothing left of Thirteen," she mumbled.
"Capitol bombed the surface to rubble," he replied. "But we're military, so we learned to survive down here. Preparing and training. The war never stopped for us."
Greyson pictured bombs falling from the sky, children and women and men screaming for their lives, suffocating under the debris. She closed her eyes, shutting everything out and trying to think of what made her happy, what she knew was true. However, every time she tried, a pair of intoxicating green eyes looked back at her, throwing her off her axis and sending her spiraling out of control once more.
