Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑, 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝".
The only sound that animated the infirmary was the incessant crackling of the neon lights. The rectangle of light blinked intermittently, accompanying in an unfamiliar rhythm the sporadically beeping heart monitor.
The face of the patient in the bed was pale and drawn: the stigmata of days spent in the arena. The waxy complexion contrasted sickly with the yellowish bruises that colored the girl's jaw, some of the suck marks tended more toward bright red than the fresh blue mauve. This sight was nothing compared to the purplish-colored scarf that adorned her neck, the memory of multiple hands that had closed around that tube of flesh.
Next to the bed stood a young man. He was sitting on a small side chair, patiently waiting for the patient to wake up to see the extent of the damage. They both shared one thing in common: the purple half-moon that darkened their eyes, a sign of the nervous fatigue that came with living as a tribe and as a mentor.
Marlow was in bad shape, despite the care that had been given to him. Under the pillow, a bandage covered the back of his head. The blow Diamond had dealt him could have been fatal. It could have been fatal. The rock had split the girl's skull, spilling her blood on the stone under the sharp lenses of the cameras as Diamond screamed under the onslaught of the birds.It had been a day since her candidate had won the Games and been taken out of the arena. Her hospitalization was immediate, the surgeons' work was long and although they were delighted with their prowess Marlow had not yet woken up. It was rare that the final interview and coronation were postponed for a day. Usually, the candidate had a few hours to recover from the most terrible injuries and then was pulled back into the futile world of the Capitol to entertain its citizens.
The girl made a small movement, but it did not go unnoticed by her mentor. The latter gently squeezed her hand, which he had been holding for a while, trying to let her know he was there and to encourage her. Finnick had been through this before, he had lain in that bed while his wounds were being dressed, so he knew that the hardest thing was to choose to wake up and face a new day.
- That's it, slowly.
Slowly, the brown eyes of his candidate opened and closed just as quickly. Time to test the waters and get used to the brightness of the room, but Finnick was a patient person. He simply maintained the same reassuring pressure on Marlow's hand, and gradually she opened her eyes again.
- Welcome back, Marlow.
The latter sketched a meager smile that looked more like a grimace than a smile. The effort cracked her dry lips, leaving three red dots beading on her mouth. His mentor rose from his chair to gently raise the back of the bed and help Marlow into a near sitting position. In this way, he could then present her with a small glass of water that he approached the lips of the young girl.
