CATO'S POV:
I've felt this way before. I know I have. The feeling is familiar; like I'm submerged in a huge tank of water and it's pressing at my eardrums and squeezing me. Like I'm drowning, only I can breathe. Something that feels like glue presses on my eyelids, sealing them tightly. Either that or they're just so heavy.
I drag my lids open. Weird images piece together before my vision. Blurred edges thin into distinct lines. Light.
The only difference between now and the last time I felt this way is that this time I know who I am. I am Cato Hadley, and--
My thoughts fly together so quickly I almost fall backward in shock. The asylum! The bombing! Clove!
Where am I? Certainly not in the asylum anymore; those cells were much dimmer. And the cloth beneath me feels much smoother. I reach up to brush some of the sleep from my eyes, and my skin comes into contact with a rough linen bandage that covers my forehead.
I'm awake after what must have been a long sleep, but I still feel exhausted. How long have I been lying here?
By now, I can clearly see the room around me. White walls, white ceiling. Everything's white. No, this is definitely not the asylum.
I start when I realize I've just survived what must have been a mass bombing, given my drastic change of surroundings. What happened to the rest of the group? What, I wonder with a sudden and cold jolt, happened to her?
The last I remember seeing of Clove was when she screamed and fell down as the bombing started. I dove for her, but something hard landed on my head and everything blinked out.
Now I'm lying here wondering where the rest of the world is at this point. Has the war started yet? How much time has gone by? Since I'm still in the land of the living, I guess the world hasn't quite ended yet.
I hear a beeping sound and the door sliding open. Several doctors I don't recognize enter the room and one of them bends over me.
"Travis. He's out of the coma."
Coma? Here I thought I'd just been knocked out for an hour.
"What happened?" I say, speaking for the first time. It's then that I notice the strip of linen strapped over my mouth, muffling my words.
One of them looks at me briefly before turning to the other. "It's a long story, Hadley. Give it time."
"How do you know my name?" I enunciate as much as possible since the cloth limits my speech.
"Our men were able to scavenge the identification files from the destroyed asylum." The doctor identified as Travis reaches over to adjust something beside my bed. "Cato Hadley. That's your name, correct?"
"Yes."
"Good," mumbles Dr. Travis. "In spite of the trauma, your memory has remained."
"Please, what happened to the asylum?" I beg.
He does not look directly at me as he replies, "It was bombed."
"Destroyed, then?"
He lowers his gaze again. "Yes."
"Then why am I here?" The question jumps out of my mouth almost before I've had time to consider it. Then I realize I really have no idea why I am alive. Or how long I've lain in this state. Dr. Travis is not describing this event as though it just happened...
"I cannot say, Hadley. You have defied all medical predictions; that is all I know. You and Miss Kentwell both."
My heart leaps at her name. "Clove! Is she all right?"
YOU ARE READING
TWISTED // Clato | ✓
FanfictionSeventy-four years has been long enough. The way of the infamous Hunger Games has been altered. No longer is every Gamemaker out to devise the worst means of torture and death for every tribute. No longer are the people of Panem outwardly toleran...
