𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒 ❦ The Hunger Games Third Book

S e v e n

CHAPTER fifty-four|MESSED UP

Ruelle~ game of survival
❝Are we the hunters? Or are we the pray?❞

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HOSPITAL ROOMS HAD always been something that I never understood- they were always so strangely calm and organised even when the people inside were the most unorganized people in the world. Katniss was completely the opposite of her clean and rather unimportant room and yet this was the room that she had been in for hours on end without so much as a glimpse into the chaos that was unfolding outside. Maybe they didn't want her to have to worry about it; I thought it was because she was too busy staring at her hands.

Her long hair was down for the first time in a while, infact I didn't think that I had seen her with her hair down at all before, and her bed as covered in a pale blue blanket and two pillows. The walls were cream, dirtied while being still white, and while the tiles did not hang off the walls it still felt like they were not quite on the stone as the room shaked with intensity. Not exactly comfortable, but nothing in 13 was ever comfortable.

She hasn't looked at me since I entered, not until the doctor left and she was left alone to sit up and stretch her tired arms. Then she looked at me for the first time, that was also when she thought it was ok to speak.

"How did we get here?" Katniss asked in a gravely voice that was half asleep. She seemed defeated, her dark eyes were drooping to the floor like they were being weighed down by boulders.

"Honestly, I don't know." I replied solemnly.

I didn't, that might of been because of my memory loss but I thought that it was something that ran deeper than that, I thought that this uncertainty came form a stupid form of youth. I was still young, barely an adult, and yet it was up to me and someone not much older to control the fate of a whole state. We had been trying our best- that much was obvious- but even we needed to be kids once in a while. She needed a mother to hold her tight, or a father that would tell her what to do and yet as Katniss looked at me I could be neither.

"I never wanted this. I wanted change, but I also wanted to be a child." I crossed my arms over my chest.

"I remember before my dad-" Katniss began before she seemed to catch herself. She looked at me as if she was assessing whether I was worth the knowledge that she had; something in her told her that I was someone that would benefit from knowing.

"It was my birthday. We were so poor then- I woke up expecting my dad to already be gone for an extra shift at the mine, but he was there. He took me to the woods to hunt- I remember wishing that I could grow up and be like him. All I wanted was to be old enough to be an adult and be able to work; I guess I got what I wished for."

Katniss' voice never wavered. I noticed that when she was saying something personal, the raven haired girl would talk in a whisper with such a flat voice that she almost seemed like a robot. I didn't know why, her story had so much importance intertwined with it.