I Bet On Losing Dogs. | EVERLARK

Chapter Two.

Some dialogue from Susanne Collins, all rights reserved.
Reminder that this fic is not entirely canon-compliant, ;)

.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。.❀。
My baby, my baby
You're my baby, say it to me.

Sharing a room with Johanna Mason is harder than I thought it would be.

At least in District Two, there had been the chance for some fresh air and hunting, but being back in Thirteen has been nothing but confusing. Training with Johanna outside is a chance at fresh air but a hard-fought one. Plus, rooming with her is getting to be more irritating than helpful at this point.

Like now, as she lies awake, humming a tune so incessant that I can't even think — let alone sleep.

"Do you have to do that?" I snap, finally losing my patience.

Johanna smirks and the orange glow from the lamp that separates our beds illuminates her gaunt features. "It's the national anthem for Panem dear Brainless, I have to show my patriotism wherever I can."  

I growl and try to scooch down in my rickety bed, burrowing my head under the thin blanket to try and block the sound, but Johanna has found amusement in my reaction, and she starts to sing the words of the song.

"Gem of Panem, mighty city, through the ages you shine anew-w-w-w!" Johanna sings, her scratchy, off-key version of the cursed song seeps into my ears, and I snap.

"I can't do this, I'm going for a walk," I say, throwing the duvet from me and slipping on my hunting boots. I must look quite the sight in my long grey nightgown and big boots, but I could care less.

"Just don't get caught Brainless!" Johanna calls after me as I slam our room door shut, huffing as I do so.

My rage brought me to the end of the hallway. It was lit with the same dim orange lights that were present in our room, it was vaguely creepy.

The sounds of me stomping down the hall and the whirring of some sort of machinery in the walls were all that filled my ears, and I swore at District Thirteen and all of its fucking practicality.

I marched for a minute or two longer, holding my arms crossed to avoid the chill in the air. I hadn't even thought about the night guards that were posted around the place, making sure the District was safe at night.

They heavily frowned upon anyone wandering about at such an hour, so I presume that the guards are more to keep us in rather than keep the Capitol out.

Before I can even register what I'm doing, I find myself at the hospital ward, the shiny metal reflecting from the sign snaps me out of my grumpy stupor.

Why have I brought myself to the hospital? I hate it here. After waking up from my sleep-syrup Morphling fever dream where I thought, idiotically, that Peeta was holding me, I haven't been back here. I even made my mother dress my gunshot wound in the room.

But I knew why I was here, why my legs had subconsciously walked me here. Peeta.

I wrinkled my nose at the sight of the entrance doors, the antiseptic smell was overwhelming. I hadn't seen Peeta since he'd told me that he remembered about that night with the bread, and again, called me ugly and plain.

I was still staring nonsensically at the doors to the hospital when I heard an echoey laugh. A low male one at that. Footsteps followed and quiet chatter. The night guards, I realised, and my heart immediately started racing.  

I did not need any more shit from Coin, or Haymitch or even fucking Plutarch, so as I saw the light of their flashlights I thought fast, and scurried through the hospital doors and into the ward, hiding behind the first corner I could find.