𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 ❦ The Hunger Games Sequel

one

☆ CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX! ☆
026. to wake up alone

|| HURRICANE ||
❝do you really want
me dead, or alive
to torture for my
sins?❞

➳➳

I WASN'T SURE of much.

I didn't know where my body had landed after it was lifted up to the Heavens by a claw, and I had no idea why I couldn't see anything other than darkness when I tried to open my eyes further then they had already been opened. There was no indications that would tell me how my ears had become so blocked that I couldn't even hear the famous ring that had once been the only thing I could think about; I couldn't even twitch.

I couldn't feel any kind of breeze float over the hairs on my arms, and I couldn't feel the pillow of my long but rather greasy hair under my head- I couldn't even feel the light tickle my eyelashes would give my eyebrows when they fluttered too quickly or for too long.

I didn't know anything.

I wasn't sure of much, but I was sure that there was some kind of chilling fire wrapped around each joint of my body during my long sleep. It was a kind of fire that burnt no matter what the weather, and no matter how many times it was blown out by the ghosts that crept around me in the darkness. It was so utterly freezing however as it licked at each morsel of skin that I couldn't be sure that it was fire at all.

It moved liked fire as it skimmed over me, but I couldn't see it; I couldn't see if anything other than the colour of night was still the same as before.

My eyes, which once watched an array of colours, stood facing a sea of black that blocked any fragment of light from cleansing my skin or the parts of my eyes that made them such a steel grey. It was a world full of nothing that kept me imprisoned until one fatal moment when it wasn't a cold fire that surrounded me anymore, it was just cold.

So cold that I inadvertently sucked in a breath large enough to fill up an entire tent. My lungs pushed for more air to be pumped into them as soon as the cold hit, a gasp left my mouth before every single hair left on my body stood on end and my eyes finally saw something other than darkness. A clinical light momentarily blinded me as my feeling returned- I was sure immediately that I was being held down by some kind of metal, and that whoever was doing it was harsh enough to make it bruise my wrists.

I didn't know much, but I was more than sure of that.

I had a clear image of my battered legs, both filled with cuts and bruises that made not one part of them exhibit my once unabused skin. As I blinked the second time, the rough legs were replaced with perfectly smooth ones, and the blood and torment was replaced with a white coverage of snow. My eyebrows pulled together as a sudden strength brought my head up from my limbs onto a rather unlucky sight.