Living Lies ✜ Hunger Games x Reader

"The Lie I've Been Living"

The sound of the cannon echoes in your head long after you've fled the Cornucopia. Where Clove died. Where you can still hear her calling out to Cato and begging for mercy from Thresh. You still can't believe that Thresh spared your life. Rue must have meant a lot to him for him to do that for you, compared to what he did to Clove. You shudder as you remember her lifeless body.

Stop it! You scold yourself, feeling the pain of your fingernails digging into your hand to keep the bag from falling to the ground. It wouldn't do any good thinking about her death, especially considering she kind of deserved it, and that she knew what she was signing up for when she volunteered at the Reaping—and for glory. It was helpful to you. You and Peeta are officially the only District team left to win. All you have to do is tie off a few loose ends—or rather, let them tie themselves off. There's a lot less hassle for you that way.

But when you snap back from your thoughts, you quickly realize, upon looking down, that the pain in your hand, which you originally had thought to be your fingernails, must actually be an injury.

And you say "must" because, well, you're really not sure, but it seems most likely since the area of your hand that is in pain is carefully and meticulously wrapped in a bandage. As you start to come to more, dragging your mind up out of the onslaught of memories of your toxic interactions with Clove (and her brutal death), you realize the echoing sound of her cannon is, indeed, a pounding headache.

"Hey, you're finally awake. I was starting to worry."

Opening your eyes is like lifting fifty pound flour sacks with only your eyelids. Peeta can toss the bags with ease, but sleep is like a dark hand pulling you back down into the cave. The only thing that keeps you trying to open your eyes despite the exhaustion and effort is the sound of Peeta's voice.

Once you win the battle with your eyes, you're greeted by another frustrating accompaniment. Your vision's a bit blurry, and moving your head the slightest bit in any and all directions hurts like hell. But even now that you're regaining your bearings, you can't remember what you did to your head to make it hurt so much.

You raise a hand slightly, wincing as you do so, feeling around a bandage wound comfortably around your head. Closing your eyes again and lowering your arm, you hear Peeta talking faintly and muttering something to you, which you're having a hard time understanding. Your hearing must be acting up again from the blast a few days ago.

You finally manage to sort through his words. "(Y/n)? Can you hear me?"

"Now I can," you mumble quietly, still not daring to move an inch. "Two questions—one, how long have I been asleep, and two, what the hell happened and why do you sound so chipper?"

"That was three questions," Peeta points out.

"Yes, Peeta, thank you for reminding me. It was three questions. Now could you please answer them and make it zero questions?"

You hear Peeta huff, followed by a slight thump as the ground beneath you buzzes slightly. He must have just sat down.

"I'm not entirely sure how long you've been asleep," he confesses. "After I woke up from the drug you gave me, it was kind of hazy. And not because of the drug, I think it was from the infection getting worse."

You mumble a quiet "aren't you glad I went?" as he reaches around to grab something lying behind him. "I remember falling asleep and then waking up and seeing you lying across the cave floor in a pool of blood next to an empty syringe. I figured you gave me the medicine and then somehow fell and hit your head on a rock. So, by the way if I were you, I wouldn't sit up right away."

You touch the bandage hesitantly once more. "That must be why my memory from last night is kind of fuzzy," you murmur. "It can't possibly be worse than what happened to Clove. I should be thankful it didn't happen to me."