A Whole New Game: A Hunger Games Story

Chapter 10: No Victor

Athena

    I awake in a hospital bed. There is electrical equipment humming around me. I blink, and there is a fuzzy image of a person hovering above.  After a minute or two, things come into focus, and I find myself faced with a boy a little older than myself. He is handsome: olive skin, dark hair, and dirty grey eyes. His face is tense, a thin line of concentration painted near his brow.

    "...Wha-? ...Where-? I-" I can't form a sentence. I have lost all sense of sobriety, all perception of lucidity. Everywhere is numb; my legs, my torso, my arms...

    Arm.

    I look down frantically but see nothing but a bandaged stump where my left appendage usually rests.

    "No...Oh...my god..."

    The boy must pity me. His taught expression softens ever so slightly.

    "Hello," he says plainly. His voice is sharp, indifferent, much like his blank countenance. "My name is Gale," he says. "I know you are very confused right now, but you are completely safe."

    "But...the Games...I-" I frown. The words slur as drowsiness seeps through my veins. I cannot remember ever being this dizzy. "I-"

    "I will explain everything when you get off the morphling," Gale assures. "Just get some rest."

    With that, I slip back into delirium, the strange new world hidden from behind closed eyes.

Eleanor

    "I said don't touch me!"

    I swat at the nurse. She huffs, throwing the syringe on the ground in frustration. "Take your own damn blood sample then!" Then she's stormed out of the room.

    She had tried only 6 times. Not much patience.

    I sigh and begin tapping my foot impatiently. The stupid doctor better hurry up. I don't even need a doctor. Unlike those other worthless tributes, I am capable of climbing a ladder without getting mortally injured, and the stupid tracker didn't even hurt to have taken out. My hand subconsciously passes over the place where my tracker had been just a few hours before, only faint pink scar left in it's place. They had managed to fix the broken nose the boy from 10 had given me. The bruise created a cross shape across the center of my face. If it didn't hurt so fucking much it would be kind of bad ass.

    A soft knocking at the door interrupts my thoughts, and my head turns to the sight of a short, plump man, whom I assume to be the doctor.

    "Hello! Miss, uh, Ruehler, is it?" the doctor greets in an excessively cheery voice. "I'm just here to see how you are doing. The check up should be over and done with soon enough!"

    "You're late," I grumble.

    The doctor looks slightly flustered. "I, er, sorry. We just have a quite a few patients to look after, what with you all getting rescued and what not-"

    "Would you just get on with it?" I interrupt sharply. "You're wasting my time."

    The doctor's fat cheeks swell a deep shade of crimson. "Of course."

    After an excruciatingly long amount of time of checking my pupils, taking my blood pressure, heart rate, and other meaningless medical crap, the doctor pulls back, adjusting his hair before finally speaking up.

    "Well, it looks like you are quite healthy. You probably need to gain a couple pounds back, but nothing too serious. You are much better off than some of your friends. One poor girl lost an arm and-"