Ablaze [Gale Hawthorne]

Facades

"This loneliness can seriously be the death of me. I'll die of social isolation." This wasn't how Cassandra had predicted her death. 

She wanted more of a glorious death such as, she died supporting the Mockingjay, juggling chainsaws while riding a cycle on a beam instead of She went crazy of social isolation, thus resulting in her death. Doing something of use was proven better than cribbing like an ungrateful snob she was. This was literally the hundredth time she looked around the room to find an escape device. She had many options such as the table on which her medicines were kept, she'd haul it up and fling it against the door. But, then she'll be destroying the public property of 13 and get arrested by 13 for her deadly crime. Moreover, she wasn't that pumped up to be locked up in an underground prison. In that case, the hospital was preferable. All kinds of harmful instruments were kept out of her reach on purpose. Thanks to Katniss pulling that attack on Haymitch in the hovercraft that she was deprived of any weapons, as if she'll try to kill her doctor. She might've. The monitors around her scanning her heart rate, blood pressure and stuffs she didn't care about were embedded in the walls and she had no energy of exerting herself so bye-bye runaway plans and hello loneliness.

A remote seated on her bedside table caught her eyes. Never was she ever happy to see a low-standard TV remote. Back in the Capitol, she was equipped with tons them to make her head spin. There were remotes for televisions, holograms, the door, curtains, servant-call, the screen on her window and even for the angle of her bed. It was a hard time getting used to those things and embarrassing too when you have a guest over and you grab the remote to increase the brightness of the ceiling lights when in fact you call in for a dog-patrol with those pups sniffing all over the visitors. They are adorable, but, animal drools are not very appreciated by the Capitol citizens. Cassandra's brilliant mind told her if there was a remote here, there should be a television in this room somewhere, her only hope to remain alive.

In the upper corner of her room was a rustic, beaten-down, dilapidated box which once would've been a charming television. Sticking out the remote in front of her, she punched the red power button and expected one of those over-dramatic Capitol soaps or the repetitive clips of the Games. But, neither showed up and instead of the pale beings were letters in solid font, forming words on the dark pixels on the screen Cassandra wanted to destroy from the face of this planet

'NO SIGNAL'      

This was it. Yup, this was it. She'd had enough. She had funded to Rebellion and now this is the treatment she gets?! Being strapped to bed in a high-tech coffin, confronted by unfriendly doctors, injected with drugs without her own consent and providing her with a television having no signal. This wasn't royal treatment they should be giving to their only benefactor. All the hard earned money she received by hosting campaigns, modelling for various brands, plastering a fake smile on shows, she spent it on funding the Rebels saying that she was an addicted shopaholic to her grandfather (who nearly took from her the right of shopping). Sacrificing such great amount and an output like this, it was unacceptable. And if 13 doesn't realizes their mistake sooner, Cassandra won't be responsible for her violent actions.

The fire raged within her body, lucky that the doctor wasn't around or else she would've flung the remote at his skull. Anger rose in her veins that she wanted to scream, but, since Finnick was in the room next to her's and she didn't have the heart of intruding the Odair's mental weeping with her own foolish tantrums, she suppressed it with a guffaw, kicking the mattress with her ankles. It still wasn't enough to extinguish her rage, if she was in the Capitol right now, her screaming was as important as a crow's cry. Her nails dug into her arms and she waited for the burning sensation of pain only to realized her nails were trimmed when she was unconscious. Another reason to curse this bloody faculty. Did they knew anything of sanction? She had to take out her anger on something or she might just explode into a huge lump of lunacy left here to die underground in the humble, presumed District 13. She fiercely looked around, flicking her head at every object in the room. There was a large towel sitting on a table next to the door, unfortunately far from her reach. And the towel can do much harm than a syringe, she thought. Damn it! Her pills sat obediently on the side table, she could throw them but, they did did an amazing job to easing her headache. It would be too bad to do that. Her fingers wrapped around the remote tightly as if it were to sprout legs and run away. The thing she was about to do was the least destructive gesture she'd have done. At least, in the Capitol. Summing up all of her fury and temper, she mustered up all her strength to lift her hand and aim the remote at the sad-looking T.V. Yes, this was the least destructive thing she could do- shatter a T.V. to pieces. Maybe, stab it with a dagger and then shoot some bullets at it. Probably drop a grenade if she had time. She was about to toss the remote at the set when the handle of the door clicked open. Cassandra's eyes flickered at the window fixed to the entrance. All she could catch a glimpse  of was a tuff..... no...... waves of sleek, grey hair straighter than the three-fourth population of the Capitol. Should it be....