Tricked (t.m.r.)

1.19 - Mad

She woke up with a jolt as she tumbled out from her bed with an ear-piercing scream. The pain coursing through her body seemed worse than before, and she wanted nothing more but to remain unconscious until it disappeared completely. 

"Primrose!" she heard someone called her name as he came forward to help her stand up. The feeling of nausea overwhelmed Primrose and she held her breath before placing one of her hands on her chest as if to suppress the urge to throw up. She was not sure how that would stop the vomit from happening but somehow it helped a little bit.

And she would have stopped herself from vomiting if that 'helpful' person wasn't patting her back with his hand. 

Primrose's eyes darted around the room and she grabbed the pail that was placed under a chair before opening her mouth. Her stomach contracted so violently as though someone was punching her from the inside. She was not going to bother to describe how disgusting vomiting was. She sank to her knees and retched until only clear liquid was coming up. Primrose's throat felt sore from the stomach acid that was layering it and she made a disgusted face when her mouth tasted of vomit.

Once she felt some of her energy returning to her body, her hand immediately shoots backwards to grab onto the hand that has been patting her back the whole time and twists it. Clint yelps before begging her to let his hand go. Primrose stared at her own puke in disgust before glaring at the med-jack.

"Serves you right for making me vomit, Clint."

"What did I do?" He widens his eyes at me before realizing she was looking straight at him. "You're-"

"Not blind?" Primrose finished his sentence for him with a hint of sarcasm before snatching a glass of water from the table to clean her mouth. She winces, and realises she could barely open her left eye. "How else do you think I survived?"

Perhaps Primrose was too traumatized by the incident to even care about the fact she wasn't killed by the grievers in the maze; or had been the first to survive. For now, she was too annoyed with Clint for being helpful even though she knew he meant no harm but hated him with every cell in her body.

"What are you doing?" She questions him sharply when he starts to walk towards her.

"The pail?" Clint raises his eyebrows at her in confusion, suddenly knowing the reason why Jeff kept finding excuses to not be in the same room with Primrose alone.

"You want to clean my vomit for me? Fine, be my guest, but don't complain because it stinks." Primrose snapped before holding the pail out towards him tauntingly. He didn't move and merely stares at the girl who was blind a day ago with his mouth wide opened like a goldfish out of water. "That's what I thought."

Primrose gave him a smug look before strolling out from the room, ignoring his protests about she should not be leaving the bed. Primrose didn't show any signs that she heard him as she continues to walk on and travels down the stairs. Primrose felt fine and resents the idea of lying down in the med-jacks' room until Clint or Jeff decides she was well enough to leave. She hadn't mean to be snappy, but couldn't help herself.

The wound on her back was killing her, but she bit her lip to cope with the pain, suffering in silence. As she made her way towards the water source, she could feel every pair of eyes glued onto her and whispers seemed to be heard from every direction. She ignored them with a scowl and glares furiously at the boys who were in her way.

"Move." She hisses and they quickly jumped out of her way. "Shucking gladers." She rolls her eyes angrily and mutters under her breath before disappearing behind a tree and headed towards a small stream behind it.

~*~*~*~

After ten minutes worth of peaceful moments to herself, Primrose hears a branch snapping under one's weight and knew someone was standing behind her without even looking. "What do you want?" She hums a tune she randomly made up in her head.