Mockingjay's Daughter (Hunger Games Fanfiction)

Chapter 31: False Promises

"Please don't be dead," I plead to myself. "Please don't be dead Drakob!"

I try and run to where I remember the cornucopia being but fall to the ground in a thump from my bad leg giving in from tiredness. Doing so, hearing a loud snap shocking me.

Shaking, I slowly move my hand to my leg in agony. I don't know what it could be... I am scared to feel it. .Something sharp is poking out of my leg. It's definitely broken. The bone is popping out.

I'm actually thankful to not have to look at it right now. It definitely won't be a pretty sight to see. The infection and swelling is probably worse too.

"Drakob!" I call out one last hopeless time.

"Willow!" His reassuring voice shouts back. By luck. "Where are you? I cannot see a thing from this fog."

"Just follow my voice...I think I am by the trees near the cornucopia." Is all I know to say, having no clue whereabouts I am now. It won't help what I've just said. It seems like my memory is getting worse, espeshly when it comes to short term.

After about ten seconds in the grey fog and lying in a heap on the shaking earth whilst being practically blinded, a cold hand touches my shoulder making me jump. This will be Drakob, everyone else is dead and gone. I have to keep reminding myself this.

"Is that you Willow?"

"Oh Drakob." I pull him down into a hug. "You're ok! I couldn't see you anywhere!" Not that I can see him now, but I happy to hear his voice.

"Of corse I am," his sarcastic answer-as per usual makes me even more happy he's alive.

I don't even need to see his face to know he is with me, the fact I can touch him and breath his natural herbal scent is all I need.

"I thought you where dead!" I pant into his military jacket which feels bumpy and sticky from encountering strange substances within the games.

Sqeezing his bony-but still musclear arms, I lock onto them in a hug with him still. He starts shushing me and craling me back and fourth as if I was a newborn baby. This is very soothing. From being blind due to the fog, it almost feels like I am back home on 12. My Mom and and Dad consoling me if anything had happened from when I was very young.

***

One memory in particular sticks in my head.

"Don't cry little duck," Mom would always tell me without fail if I was crying. She knew that calling me little duck would always make me laugh or at least put a smile on my face no matter how upset I was. This was because she would also call aunt Prim this. "You are beautiful. Do not let that pretty little smile go to waste."

She would pinch my nose while saying all of this in her calmest voice, though even at a young age, I could tell that they where also filled with an enormas amount of pain and greif. A couple of times, I had seen her face and body covered in bruises.

It has not happened in some time now, but Dad would get constant 'flashbacks' of altered memories from being hijacked by the capitol twenty years ago. This would happen quite a lot until I was nine years old. (He is on new medication for his flashbacks and according to both Mom and Dad, it has been working-not that I even believe them, but trust them non-the-less). I understand why he did-and can still now get these flashbacks which contain false memories of mainly Mom, but being too young to be told about hijacking or to understand when I was young, I was confused why Dad would act this way.

"But Daddy was s-s-shouting nasty things to you Mommy." I cry cuddled into my favaroute teddy Patch. "I came into your room to ask for a drink and I saw him trying to push you to the ground. Then a thump when I went into my room. Them things that he said aren't true...are they?""