A cool breeze drifts through the window that is held, slightly ajar. Along with it flows the scent of baking and fresh fruit, bread and sweet, red apples that pass in a haze of sun lit, beautiful life. Clean and clear as light reflected through glass. If only my head would clear to match this wondrous sight. I can see the beauty, but feel as if I am not comprehending it to its full extent, and there is more that I am yet to see and incapable of seeing. I seek it, I yearn for it, but a dead man's thoughts have no power in comparison to a living man's touch. For surely I am dead, from either blood loss or the explosion that tore my bones and now my mind to shreds. Perhaps this is purgatory and the light is....
That's when it hits me.
Why am I always following a light? Why am I always trapped in this cycle of running for something that I will never reach and can do nothing but watch others embrace it and then throw it away. Throw away the thing I have been following all my life. It is a torture worse than death.
A figure, small but thin moves with elegant strides toward the window and closes it like the mutt that opened my neck. It snaps to and she moves to rearrange something beside me, just out of my field of vision. I loll my head slightly to one side to get a better look at it and the creature starts like a frightened animal. I can't help laughing, even if it burns my throat like strong liquor. She looks around and then scuttles out of the room. I let out another cackle and turn to the other side of... Of what? Am I alive? I wonder, not wanting to give myself false hope. Is this living? I dig my fingers into the creased white duvet and take in my surroundings. A small white room, colourless and slightly too bright for my own comprehension, shines in front of me. Alright, I am in the light. Is is as wondrous as I had hoped?
"Sir? Can you hear me." An elderly voice enquires. I turn and see it belongs to a similarly elderly woman. At this she beams brightly, and calls the smaller nurse over to see. You'd think I was an exhibition.
"Sorry, who-" I find myself cut off my a fierce pain in my throat. Try again. Fiercer. The smaller nurse offers to get some water.
"Do you have a name? I know you can't answer, but nod if you remember it." The water is brought to my side and I take a tentative sip. It burns.
"I've been asleep a while, haven't I?" The old woman nods.
"6 and a half months. Over half a year. You're lucky to have some memory if you posses it. I'm nurse Catherine, by the way. It's been my job to look after you." Why? I almost ask, for Coin hated me.
"On behalf of whom?" I ask instead. I narrow it down in my own head, who would have the expertise? Not Coin for the aforementioned reason, not Snow because of the same reason. No doubt Katniss would have organised it, but she seemed rather unstable when I saw her last and Coin despised her too. Besides, she just saw me die. Just half a year ago.
"Beetee. When the Capitol fell we performed a thorough sweep of the tunnels for surviving mutts and/or avoxes. None remained, but we found you. In a pretty bad state, too. He wouldn't provide any information." Explains the smaller girl, whose name tag reads 'Laura'.
"And that is why we should ask none now. Beetee will be pleased when he finds out that you've woken up." Nurse Catherine turns to pick up a clipboard, the thing Nurse Laura was fiddling with earlier. "How are you feeling, Patient 109?" She asks, gingerly placing down the clipboard. Apart from the searing thirst?
"Alive." I answer, without hesitation.
YOU ARE READING
After The Fear
FanficThis story is set after the events of Mockingjay and is from Finnick's point of view. What if Finnick had not died? What if he had survived?
