𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐒 ❦ The Hunger Games

twenty-five

☆ CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE! ☆
025. the five stages.

|| GHOST ||
❝my ghost, where'd
you go? I can't find
you in the body
sleeping next to
me.❞

➳➳

FINNICK ODAIR AND Katniss Everdeen laid side by side.

Tubes stuck out of the two tribute's in a desperate attempt to keep them alive; to those that passed the two it looked as if they were already dead as one out of the two heart monitors sat beside them both unused, and many expensive drugs sat without any prep around them. If the rebellion had been a person, and they were sat waiting for the two to awake there would be a great amount of anxiety etched into it's exotic features. It had already lost so much- nobody could afford to lose anything else.

While the Girl on Fire stayed silent, the boy from Four was slowing begining to stir as his irises moved beneath his eyelids due to the small amount of pink light he could see. His brain was slowly sending signals once more, and yet all that it could decode was the first thoughts that sparked between synapses at the end of each shallow breath- he didn't want to see pink light, he wanted to see Lorna.

The steady beep of the one working heart monitor spiked as Finnick tried to open his eyes, and the tubes did nothing to restrict his limbs as he tried to stand even when it was pointless to try; nothing would stop the stumbling Victor as he tried to understand where he was and who he was with. He knew only a few things so far- the most prevalent was that if he was in the Capitol then it was all over before it even began, but if he was somewhere else- anywhere else- he would then be free.

The clock on the wall ticked too loudly as he wripped the various needles out of his arms and tried to jump up from his thin mattress. He heard it with each stumble out of the room and even as he walked along the one corridor the plane had towards the main hold. Finnick would of panicked if it wasn't for the confusion and the ghost of aching limbs.

The only tell of who was piloting him was that it was a Capitol helicopter; Finnick knew that wasn't a good sign.

A door automatically opened on Finnick's right when he tried to find a way out. Plutarch Heavensbee was standing around a table with his head inbetween his hands, beside him Haymitch looked up as if he was about to see a ghost of one of his more violent nightmares. It was confusing to see both the Capitol and the rebellion together- the drowsy man couldn't seem to understand what it was that he had found himself in. Haymitch wasn't held back or chained to some kind of chair but neither was Plutarch, instead they both stood around a low table that projected some kind of light around the walls.

Plutarch was the first to speak to Finnick, his hands left the table to paint an ellaborate picture as he tried to get the man's attention. He was still searching for another face however, his mind wasn't set on the people in front of him.