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It is our instinct to chase what's getting away, but run from what's chasing us.
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Roland did come back the next day, just like he had said.
He was the one that woke me up, actually. Not that I wasn't happy to be woken up by a familiar face. It was a good change.
"I can take you around today, your dad said," he says to me. "If you'd like."
"I really just want to see Katniss first," I tell him. "Then, I guess that's fine." He nods. The sliding door opened. It was my father and a nurse. They handed me clothes, but they weren't normal clothes. It was an army green jump suit. I raised an eyebrow at it before looking back up at them. "I have to wear... this?"
"What do you think this is, a fashion show?" My father asks. I roll my eyes in response.
"For now, until you get trained to be a guard," Roland says. "That is what you want to do still, right?" I nod.
"We'll leave you to change," My father says. They walk out, the door closing behind them. I looked at the green jumper in front of me and stared at it with disgust. I can't tell if being in this bed is so bad. I wondered what it was like to be out there.
I quickly stripped from my bland hospital gown. My feet touched the cold floor of the district thirteen hospital for the first time in weeks. Shivers ran up my spine at how cold it was, it made me want to get back into bed.
A lot of things lately have made me want to just lay in this bed forever.
I saw the familiar necklace as I buttoned up my jumpsuit. I pulled my hair out of the back of it and took ahold of the necklace. The cool metal, and the sight of it just made my brain feel more, awake. This was Cato's. It's like he's here with me when I hold it. I moved my hair to the side and tried to clasp the necklace back. I heard the sliding glass door open.
"Need help?" Roland's hands were cold, and were soft which made them clammy. I was so used to the feeling of Cato's rough callus hands. I was used to everything rough when it came to Cato. "This is nice." He opened the front and I stared at him, the pictures of Cato, him and my dad.
"Do you think he's still alive?" He touched my arm, in an attempt to comfort me.
"I don't know." I shrugged his arm off as I pulled on the black boots.
"Would it be so bad if he was?" I asked. He looked at me, with furrowed eyebrows as he was shocked that those words had came out of my mouth.
"Why would you say that?" he asks. "I thought you wanted to rescue him."
"I don't think he'll be the same," I say and lick my dry lips. "You think you'd be the same person if you were trapped somewhere and being tortured for bate?"
