The Little Mockingjay

Syndicate

Song: Syndicate by The Fray

I can't tell if it's real, or if it's all in my head. I'm running, running, running. I can't breathe, but I know I have to keep going. Waves. Waves crash around my body, but I keep going. Pain. My body is in so much pain. I feel the lashes of rope and the shock of electricity and the bone shattering kicks of the livestock. Everywhere I turn, I see monsters. I twist and turn as they grab at me from all sides. I feel recognition. Something is familiar. It pulls on the back of my mind, as if it's the source of my headache. I try to scream, but I can't. Light. A bright light pierces my eyes. I can just barely see a meadow, illuminated under the sun. Deep in the meadow, under the willow. I want to go to the willow, to lie down, to find serenity. A bed of grass, a soft green pillow. I crave the feeling of the grass enveloping my skin as I sink into it. Yes, I think. I am almost gone. But then, a voice. The voice of my brother. He sounds so pained. The small sound is enough to make me throw my heavy eye lids open. Slowly, I come to my senses. I am in a hospital room. That's all I know. How did I get here? I see my little brother. He looks surprised. He looks like he's been crying.

"Flint," I mutter through cracked lips.

I try to sit up, but I can't manage it.

My body shakes and convulses. My head pounds. I can't breath. Why can't I breathe?

"Mom! Dad!" Flint shouts.

My parents appear out of nowhere in a matter if seconds.

Flint starts crying as my parents scream for doctors.

I grip the sides of the bed as my body is hit with pain and spasms. The sound of my gasping breaths fills the room. I moan weakly, and Flint replies with a soft whimper. My parents cling to either of my hands. My family is here. I want to stay with them. I feel a needle slip into my neck. They're trying to kill me. I don't want to die. My family is here.

"Don't fight it," my mom tells me.

So I don't. I let myself get pulled under one more time.

~

This time, when I wake up, it's not to the sound of Flint's voice, but to the steady beeping of machines. I stretch my arms and my legs and flex my fingers. I can breathe steadily. Most of the pain has subsided. Slowly, I force my eyelids open. I don't lift my head, but my eyes flick back and forth over the hospital room. It's dark; all the lights are off and there are no windows. There is a plain grey curtain drawn closed to my left, blocking me from whatever lies outside this room. Scratchy grey sheets cover my body, which is now clothed with a white hospital gown. My hair is matted on the pillow and damp with sweat, so I kick off the blanket and let the cool air wrap around me. Needles pinch in my arms, connecting me to various machines. But, among all this, I see my family. Flint sits in an armchair directly beside me, curled up in a ball like a small child, fast asleep. Across the room, my mom sleeps with her feet hanging over the armrest of her chair, lightly clasping my dad's hand, who is sleeping sitting up in a chair next to her. I haven't got the chance to speak to my parents. Maybe I did. I don't remember much, just spotty memories of Dad's arms around me. Something about waking them now seems wrong to me. Not when they look so vulnerable in sleep, not now that I know all I do about them. Next to me, Flint makes a jerking movement in his sleep. Judging by the grimace on his face, he's having a nightmare. I reach out with one arm and shake him lightly on the shoulder, whispering his name before he can call out. His eyes fly open, then widen upon seeing me.

"Nads?"

"Flint, where are we?" I ask, suddenly afraid.

"We're in a military compound in the Capitol. It's okay, we're safe here, this is where Mom and Dad have been."