Defying the Odds (The 4th Quarter Quell) [The Hunger Games Fanfiction]

Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Asher

I wake again in the cold, white room. I’m not alone this time. Several men and women in long white coats float around the room, a few surrounding a machine to the left of me.

I feel so alone watching all of them talk amongst themselves…about me. Who the hell are they? I resist the urge to scream for the to leave me. If I make a fuss, they might not let me out. And I need to get out of here. I need to see her. God, I need her right now.

Struggling to speak, I cough once to minimize the raspiness in my throat. All heads in the room turn to me. I clench my fists to reign in my frustration. I’m not a goddamn science project.

I mean to ask them if I can leave, but instead I end up saying, “Layla.” My voice is cracked, weak, though I feel strong and healthy.

They continue to stare at me until a man with glasses steps forward and addresses me.

“Hello, Asher. I’m Dr. Whitley, one of the Capitol doctors assigned to restore you to your health.” As I watch him say this, a smile forms on his face. And Suddenly I want to punch him so hard. What is there to smile about? He’s a doctor assigned to fix the injuries I received in the arena…where I was placed by the Capitol…which he works for. So why the hell is he smiling?

I don’t punch him, though. He continues, the smile wiped from his face probably from my expression, which I’m sure looks pretty pissed. “The first few hours of your restoration were up and down, but with—“

“Am I healed now?” I ask, cutting him off.

“Yes, but—“

“Can I leave?” I’m tempted to ask if I can see Layla, but I already know the answer. I’ll just have to find my own way to see her. Because, god, I have to see her.

“Yes, you’re set to go. But, Asher—“

“Listen, I couldn’t care less what you have to say to me after the shit I’ve been through. I’m healed. Great, thanks. Now let me go back to the training center so I can sit in my room until tomorrow. Unless you want to authorize a visit between myself and Layla?” My voice is threatening and sharp and, for a second, I don’t know who I am.

The doctor stares at me, open-mouthed. “We aren’t allowed to—“

“I didn’t think so. If you’ll excuse me, then.” I swing my legs over the side of the bed, ripping wires from my body in the process. My eyes are focused only on the door. I don’t look back, only ahead. And then I’m out of that room—that suffocating room. I almost feel like I can breathe again.

But not really.

I’m not sure how long it took to maneuver my way through the maze of sterile, white hallways that surrounded my room, but I finally found the training center. My hands shake uncontrollably by my sides as I wait impatiently for the elevator doors to open. Have they always taken this long?

They open and I don’t lose a second. I throw my body into the small space and my finger makes contact with the small button marked ‘4’. Layla. I don’t think that there might be cameras watching me right now. I don’t think that someone might be coming to stop me. I don’t think. I don’t need to. Every part of me screams for her—her touch, her warmth, her everything.

The elevator ride is shorter than I expect. I stumble out in my haste. Briefly I glance at the window. The sky is dark.

Finnick, sitting at a table filled with food, glances up at the sound of my entrance. He purses his lips.