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SONG SUGGESTION:Fake It by Bastille
Greyson sat up as the Capitol's anthem played loud and strong as ever at the end of her bed, the screen fading to black before reappearing with Caesar Flickerman on screen, startling her. Greyson didn't move as Caesar's twinkling eyes stared through the screen and pierced her soul, freezing it through the glass.
Greyson's doctor, Dr. Yu, was a kind lady with a naturally beautiful face. She now stood by her bedside sorting Greyson's mandatory medication into the days of the week.
During the ride back to Thirteen from District 4, Greyson had cried, forcing herself out of her jumpsuit and ripping it violently at the seams, having Boggs throw a thermal blanket around her shoulders, with the material fortunately long enough to reach the short woman's knees.
Gale had watched from a certain point on the hovercraft, a flash of the scars Greyson received in her Games exposed to him. Gale had sympathy for Greyson and disgust towards the Capitol as he silently stood by with Greyson crying into Boggs' shoulder, her tears staining his black army uniform. Boggs didn't seem to mind, as his own face was morphed into one of empathy and solemness, his dark eyes drifting to Greyson's shaking form and the bloodied jumpsuit.
No one questioned her what happened, and they didn't want to.
Besides Dr. Yu, Greyson hadn't talked to anyone, even Katniss who was concerned for her friend. Katniss made it a point to visit Greyson everyday after lunch in the medical level, occasionally bringing Greyson a roll of bread she managed to slip from the guards' attentive gazes. Greyson didn't mind Katniss' company, as the younger girl didn't talk much to begin with, and they usually just sat in silence, enjoying the other's presence.
Dr. Yu brought her caramel eyes to the screen, pressing her lips into a thin line.
"Hello," Caesar greeted in low voice with the biggest lie of a smile Greyson ever saw, "good evening to all in Panem. I'm Caesar Flickerman. And whoever you are, whatever you're doing – if you're working, put down your work. If you're having dinner, stop having dinner. Because you are going to want to witness this tonight. There has been rampant speculation about what really happened in the Quarter Quell. And here to shed a little light on the subject for us is a very special guest. Please welcome, Mr. Peeta Mellark."
Greyson gasped loudly, her eyes widening as she crawling over the blankets wrapped around her and sitting on her knees, expectantly watching the screen, her throat thick with emotion as the boy from District 12 was sitting across from Caesar. He didn't look too bad, but he also looked too okay, as if they wanted the citizens of Panem to see that no harm was coming to the hostage victors. But Greyson knew better than to believe that. How could she when everything they've done turned to ash? When everything always ended up in flames?
