❖ Book 1 of 3 ❖
【 Slow burn fanfic 】
║ A Prequel to the Hunger Games Trilogy ║
Isla Dunne of District 4 was a career. She had trained her whole life for the Hunger Games, an annual event held by the Capitol. A blood bath where 2 children, ages 12-18...
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IF IT WASN'T for the blindingly bright lights, Isla might've thought she was dead. She couldn't move. As she peeled her crusted eyes open and allowed them to focus on her surroundings, she discovered she laid in a hospital bed. She was strapped to the bed by leather cuffs, explaining her inability to move. She wriggled against her restraints to no avail.
Doctors came and went, checking the machines that surrounded her and writing on charts. Everything was white, even their clothes. Isla couldn't imagine how practical that could be, especially after the disturbing amount of blood she had seen in just the last twenty four hours.
But was it in the last day she had witnessed all of those murders? Her arms and legs looked clean, and her hair had been washed and brushed out of the braid that Killian had styled. She felt tears prick at her eyes, the last thing she had of him had been washed away without a single thought. Now, she had nothing but the terrible flashbacks.
She attempted to talk to the doctors, but they ignored her. Isla assumed they weren't allowed to tell her anything, not until someone with more authority spoke to her first. However, she felt she had a right to know what information they were receiving from the numerous lines connected to her body. Was she alright?
She felt fine. Great, even. Well rested, something she hadn't felt since the day of the reaping. Refreshed and clean, like when she had showered at the training centre. Even the empty pit in her stomach from the scarce amount of food in the arena was gone. She felt healthy. So why was she strapped to a hospital bed?
After some time of staring at the tiled ceiling, a familiar face entered through the doorway. It had to of been the last face she had hoped to see. His bronze hair and tanned skin reminded her deeply of the boy she had left to die alone. Finnick stared at her with a solemn expression instead of his signature smirk. It almost made her even more furious with his presence, as if he had the right to express any kind of sadness for her. Not after everything he'd done.
"They'll be releasing you soon, you've been resting for a couple of days now."
"A couple of days?" Isla's throat was dry, her voice sounded hoarse as she spoke.
"They sedate most victors immediately after the games and do their tests." He explained, fiddling with the many gadgets in the room. "Gives them time to adjust..." the man added, trailing off as he stared at her with his ocean blue eyes.
"What's with these?" She asked, attempting to raise her arms.
"Precaution." Finnick simply stated. "Once they release you you'll be sent to the prep team, and later you'll be crowned victor by Snow in front of all of Panem." He spoke with a sarcastic air, but she decided to ignore it. She didn't want to fight with him or banter back and forth. Despite feeling rejuvenated, she was exhausted with the victor from District Four already.
