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"Why is it so important to dream?"
"In my dreams we're still together."
_______________________
My name is Katalina Edwards.
I was the winner of the 74th Hunger Games. And arguably the winner of the 75th. The doctor's here say I have a small part of an Anxiety disorder caused by the games. They're treating me for it. I'm living in District 13. After the second games I was in, there was an attack on the country. My father was part of the team that rescued me. He is part of the movement here in District 13. So is my cousin.
Cato was taken by the capital.
And I may never see him again.
That's all I could say to myself these past few days to remind myself that this is real. Cato's really gone. This isn't one of my nightmares I'm living in. This is my life right now.
At least that's what my doctors tell me to say to myself.
I sat up quickly from my bed. I've been having a very hard time sleeping lately. Not because of the nightmares, or the constant worrying, but because my brain was so busy. It was weird, it's like whatever's going on in there won't shut up.
I hear the normal beeping monitors, the ones that I beg to be turned off in the middle of the night. And when I say normal it doesn't actually mean normal - it means what I hear every fucking day.
The same old irritating monitors and white hospital bed sheets. That's all I see and hear every damn day. Pink bed sheets, something to spice up the walls, anything would make me happy at this point. I lay in this bed, and stare at the hospital walls in front of me for hours on end. Anything would make me so happy.
I don't get many visitors either. Katniss is still knocked out I believe, they put her in a medical induced coma, from what I've heard. And that's really about it, when it comes to people I actually want here. Although, when I ask to see Plutarch I get no response. They're doing nothing about saving Cato.
Absolutely nothing.
I try not to think about what they're putting him through. They must've discovered his weakness by now if they haven't already. The birds exposed that to the world in the last games.
I don't know if he's dead, no one will tell me the truth if they know. But also, if he is dead, maybe that would be for the best. I'm not sure. Either way, I just want to know. If he's dead, I can find peace with it. I can move on and try to be happy again. I don't want to be strung along. I deserve to know.
My therapist comes by two times a week. Dr Post, the same doctor as before, and I have our meetings that last about an hour. Sometimes they help, sometimes I'm searching for things to talk about. He's grown on me, he's one of the few doctors I actually respect around here.
