Life Through Sea Green Eyes - A Hunger Games Fanfiction

Part 1: Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim ownership to any content related to or included in the Hunger Games trilogy by Suzanne Collins. I write this story purely for my own enjoyment and the enjoyment of others, with no intent for making money.

Life Through Sea Green Eyes

Part One: Fish Out of Water

Chapter Twelve

After I deliver the fatal wound, and Rock screams – I’m fairly certain his death cry will haunt me for years to come – I stagger away from the bloody scene and collapse. Templesmith’s voice booms over the loudspeaker, declaring me to be the winner of the Hunger Games. I’m sure that the women in Capitol are all crying, or cheering, or hugging each other when the announcement is made.

          A hovercraft appears over me, and then the next few days become a blur. I float in and out of consciousness. At one point I wake up strapped to a table, and my left arm is encased in a huge white tube that’s humming loudly.

          When I’m lucid enough to really take in my situation, I realize that I’m back in the Training Center in my own bed. Hardly able to believe that this is all really happening, I turn my head toward the window, and there’s Mags sitting on the loveseat, clacking away with her knitting needles.

          “Mags,” I croak.

          She shuffles over holding a glass of water. I try to sit up, but she insists on pouring the water into my mouth while I’m still lying down. Apparently I’m recovered enough to be in my own bed – relatively speaking – but not so much that I’m actually allowed to move.

          “Thank you,” I say when I feel my voice is strong enough. She squeezes my right hand, which is lying on top of the blankets, and I swear I see tears roll down her cheeks. “Those gifts... how?”

          “You have many admirers in the Capitol,” Mags murmurs, and I understand very well why her voice is tinged with sadness and regret. Because I may have survived the Hunger Games, but now I have to deal with the consequences. “How do you feel?”

          Considering the amount of pain my left arm was in, I’m pretty sure that’s what she’s referring to. “Good. Astonishingly so.” I close my eyes and raise my left arm. “Is it hideous?” I ask jokingly.

          “Open your eyes,” Mags says, and when I do I see that the flesh is pink and healthy, with not a single scar to indicate what my arm has been through. If I had to guess, I’d say that the doctors have wiped all traces of the Games from my body.

          “Can I get up?”

          “Carefully,” she replies, and with her help I manage to sit upright on the bed. My body is sore as all hell, but it’s not nearly as bad as I feared. “You almost lost that arm,” Mags adds. It doesn’t surprise me. Rock didn’t exactly give me a gentle tap with that spiked flail.

          “Does the Capitol still love me, after that bloodbath at the end?” I ask, hoping against hope that the answer is no. But of course things can’t work out that neatly, and Mags reluctantly nods. “Don’t worry about it,” I tell her. “I knew what I was getting myself into.”

          Since neither of us wants to talk about my future as a Capitol man-whore, we fall silent for a very long time. Eventually, Mags totters out of the room, and returns a few minutes later with something I thought I would never see again – a bowl of sugar cubes. She hands me one, and I eye it uncertainly. “Can I eat this? Shouldn’t I be on some special diet?”