Timber

Chapter Fifty-Seven: Fluorescent Dawn

Warmth caressed the tips of Hazel's fingers, light and soft like a summer breeze. A rich, floral scent tinged with something artificial and sterile filled her nostrils. Her mind felt fuzzy and muted, as if it wasn't her own. Hazel's eyes flickered open, then immediately closed against the glare of fluorescent lights. She was on her back, the surface beneath her soft yet firm. Thick blankets covered her, sliding along the bare skin of her legs and arms as she stretched her aching limbs. Her left foot and hand felt heavy. A familiarly thin, cotton-like material covered the rest of her—a hospital gown. She had folded hundreds of them but had never actually worn one.

"Hazel?" A melodic feminine voice filled her ears.

Her eyes snapped open again, squinting against the harsh brightness. She was in an odd room, devoid of color and covered in various shades of white. The starkness was unsettling, like being trapped in an empty milk carton. A bank of windows to her left displayed the sprawling Capitol in the growing mid-morning sun. Monitors and lights beeped and blinked around her. Several white chairs were arranged against the far wall. She pulled herself upright, but her head immediately spun, and consciousness wavered.

"Don't sit up, dear." A soft hand met Hazel's shoulder, gently pushing her back. Her neck met a fluffy pillow that smelled of pungent detergents.

"Indira?" Hazel questioned as she squinted to see the figure hovering over her bed. Indira peered down at her. She appeared so different from the last time Hazel had seen her. Her long hair was braided into a high bun, and her normally elegant features appeared younger in the cool-toned lighting. A slight pink ring of swelling encircled her eyes. There was no trace of adornment, finery, or embellishments anywhere. Hazel almost wouldn't have recognized her if it weren't for that unique voice. Indira's face filled with pity as she observed the girl before her.

"You might not want to hear this, but I am glad to see you." Indira's voice cracked, and she wiped her eyelids. Hazel stared at her, unable to respond. She had never expected to see Indira again.

"How are you feeling?" Indira continued.

Hazel's brows scrunched together at the question. It was a simple inquiry, yet she stared up at Indira as if she were speaking another language. How am I feeling?

Her attention shifted around the room, taking in more of her bizarre surroundings. She stretched both her arms out before her. The pain was present, but it was dulled. An IV line with clear glistening fluids disappeared beneath the now clean skin of her right forearm. She paused to follow the line to a bag hanging from a pole above her. Various monitors and tubes were attached to her arms, chest, and legs, each snaking out from her body to blinking machinery behind her. It was so much more complex than anything she had seen in the hospital in District Seven.

Besides the monitors, a metallic bedside table stood to her right. Several items were laid out carefully on its reflective surface: the crumpled, mud-stained remains of a card, Cedar's necklace, and Grace's weathered coin. The sight of these objects brought reality crashing down over her again. The Games were really over. She was alive, but she was the only one. Hazel looked away and covered her face as her emotions broke through the drug-induced haze.

"Hazel? Can you hear me?" Indira whispered.

Hazel's body began to shake as she tried to push away the devastation seeping into her bloodstream like poison. Hot tears pressed against her eyelids as the image of the forest melting and Snow's words echoing in her ears replayed in her mind. She pressed her palms hard against her eyes, willing the image of Silus's wrists away.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I can leave if you want?" Indira whispered, and Hazel could hear the click of her high heels as she took hesitant steps backward.