Twisted (Clato fanfiction)

Part Thirteen - The Hospital

Beep. Beep. Beep.

 A steady beat quietly pulses in my ears, erupting the silence.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Cracks of bright light burn my eyes through the darkness.

Beep. Beep. Beep

My tongue sticks to the dry ridges of my mouth.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

A thud hammerers violently inside my skull.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Where on earth am i?

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Am I dead?

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Clove?” Says a voice I vaguely recognise.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Clove it’s ok, you’re safe. So is Cato.”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Cato. My heart pulls out my body.

I snap in consciousness. I turn my head slowly to take everything in, white everywhere. The smell of antiseptic burns the inside of my nose. I see Brutus sitting on the edge of my bed, I groan.

“Thank god.” He says. “We all thought we’d lost you. If it weren’t for Cato you would’ve been.” I want to feel warm at the fact Cato saved my life but it makes me grumpier than I was before. It’s like I can’t take care of myself, like Cato has to look after me.  

“Yeah I guess. How long was I out for?”

“It’s been three days since the tribute parade, tomorrow is the last day of training I’m afraid. The nurse said you had two cracked ribs, a split skull and a dislocated elbow. You can see they’ve patched you up good as new.” I peer under the stiff blanket and sure enough everything looks perfect.

“Wow. How do they even do that?”

“The magic of the Capitol.” Brutus jokes. I make an effort to laugh despite my mood. “Anyway Cato has been so stressed they had to give him some sort of sleeping gas. He was ever so destructive, nearly killed one of the nurses in a rage.” Why I am not shocked by this? I should be, Cato isn’t normally like this.

“Where is he?”

“He on the opposite side of the room.” He points to a bed covered by a blue curtain. Part of me wants to rip open the curtain and hug him and never let go but another part of my still wants to be mad at him.  I need to make my mind up I tell myself.

“Is he awake?”

“He’s asleep but he’s not on the gas.” Brutus replies, studying me.

“Can I go and see him?” I have made my decision.

“Sure, if you’re able to. Do you need help?” I swing my legs around the side, and slide off slowly, testing myself before I let go of the side of the bed. I make sure Brutus is somewhere close in case my legs give way. Gradually I make my way to the curtain, I push it aside.

There he lays, his head cushioned by his arm. He looks so peaceful that I never realised how stern he always looks. It’s such a contrast. Quietly I lie next to him on the corner of the bed and shake his shoulder gently. His eyelids flutter and the spring open. His eyes bore into mine and I feel self-conscious.

“Hi.” I say to him.

“Hey titch” He croaks. I laugh, all the anger has flown away like crows. “How you are you feeling?”