twenty-eight - hospitalization

- - - ➳

matthias goes silent.

for five long, full seconds, he doesn't make a sound. i can't see much through my blurry and unfocused vision, but he appears to be sitting completely still with his mouth slightly open. i can't hear him breathe. i don't even think he's blinking.

the loud, booming voice of claudius templesmith echoes through the arena. "ladies and gentlemen, i am pleased to present the victor of the 75th hunger games, matthias rutcher. i give you- the tribute of district twelve!"

and like the announcement finally slapped some emotion into him, matthias screams. it's a dreadful sound full of pure, heart-wrenching agony that twists my insides horribly. the scream is short-lived and is soon replaced with cracking sobs. he leans down and presses his face into my neck. i can feel his tears on my skin. his chest shakes with the weight of his sobs, heavy and racking his body.

"no!" he shouts, face still buried in my hair. "no! i refuse!"

i wait a few seconds more. my heart is barely beating. my lungs burn and demand oxygen.

so i give it to them.

in a sputter, i gasp in as much air as i can until my lungs are filled. my eyes shift back into focus just in time to see matthias' head snap up, face inches from mine. a mixture of bewilderment and confusion is on his tear-streaked face as he stares at me with his eyes widened.

"thalia?" he questions, leaning back a bit to examine me from a better angle. i'm still sucking in ragged breaths through my mouth, which has gone as dry as sandpaper. i nod, lifting my lips in a small smile. he releases a shaking sigh of relief. "you're alive."

i nod again, barely able to speak. my brain is fuzzy and i feel dizzy from the blood loss. "y-yeah, i'm alive. which means the capitol lied."

matthias' hands go back to my stomach, pressing down on the open wound there. his facial expression slowly hardens to steel; his blue eyes mimic the crashing waves just yards away from us. he lifts his head and glares at the sky. "how many? how many other tributes were still breathing when their cannons blew?"

as expected, there's no response. i can only imagine the bedlam occurring in the gamemakers' area. what's going on in the capitol? what are they deciding? are they just going to let me bleed out here until there's only one left for real?

but matthias already has an answer. "seems like you don't have a choice. thalia blew your cover. you can't just let her die, can you?"

after a few seconds of unbearably tense silence, claudius' voice sounds again. "very well. ladies and gentlemen, the new victors of the 75th hunger games: thalia forkshire and matthias rutcher!"

my eyes widen in surprise that my plan actually worked. i fooled the capitol, and now we're going home. both of us.

matthias breathes a laugh that's more like another relieved sigh. he hugs me tighter. "i told you until the very end, didn't i?"

i let him embrace me, still fighting off the black dots invading my vision. i'm too shocked to reply. my lips are parted slightly, my body feeling numb and cold from the amount of blood i've lost already.

the hovercraft materializes in the dark sky. matthias immediately picks me up bridal style and carries me to the single ladder that drops down. he somehow manages to loop an arm around one of the rungs after he places a foot on the bottom one, still holding me steadily. though the current freezes us in place, i can feel matthias' muscles shaking from the impossible position he's put himself in.

i can't fight off the darkness anymore. the familiar cold hands take more of my body and my eyelids begin to flutter shut. matthias yells as he notices what's happening, but there's nothing he can do to keep me awake.

my eyes close and the black void sweeps me away.

-

i wake in awkward intervals. the light above me shines too brightly for my sensitive pupils, so i don't open them the first two times i come to. the third, i force myself to blink the bleariness away and survey my surroundings. i'm without clothes except for a large, thick bandage that covers the entire length of my stomach. there's another on the side of my ax wound. my skin is impossibly pale and i can see the purple and green veins beneath, especially on my arms, which have several needles stuck in them. the air smells antiseptic and stings my nose. i lift my hand and discover no scars on my fingers. the skin has been scrubbed clean, with no sign of blood anywhere.

soon my head is spinning and i'm forced back into oblivion.

the bandages are gone the next time my eyes open. in their places are ugly masses of black stitches that crisscross on my skin and prevent it from splitting open. i have fewer fluids being pumped into me. on the table at my bedside is a small container of applesauce and a glass of iced water. i'm vengeful at first, but i'm grateful once i actually eat it. the moment the food hits my stomach, i'm plagued with searing pain that makes my eyes water. i force myself to finish it. i'm barely able to set it back onto the table until i'm pulled under again.

several more times this process repeats, the scars on my stomach and side diminishing every time i wake. eventually, it gets easier to eat. the needles and patches disappear from my arms one by one.

and finally, the day comes when i'm able to escape the confinements of my bed.

i give my entire body a once over before i allow myself to get up. the skin on my stomach is completely unblemished with no sign of scars anywhere. there aren't any more fluids being pumped into my bloodstream. i feel normal, something that has been foreign to me for a very long time.

i push myself up to a sitting position and swing my legs around the bed. slowly, i let my bare feet touch the ice-cold floor. my eyes flicker to the clothes at the foot of my mattress and my heart skips a beat. it's my tribute apparel, washed and restored back to its original state.

i'm dressed and standing on my surprisingly strong legs in no time. i wait by the wall across from my bed for the hidden door to appear. it slides open and i take a hesitant step out into a completely deserted hallway. there doesn't appear to be any other doors, though i know there must be, and an anxious feeling bubbles up. i run down to the end like something is lapping at my heels. that "thing" is the unbearable suffocation of being completely alone.

"anyone here?" i call, my voice hoarse from lack of use.

"thalia."

i almost don't recognize the voice, but my heart leaps in my chest when it registers. peeta.

i turn and see my team standing together in an open chamber- effie, katniss, peeta, haymitch, and cinna. an inexpressible amount of joy fills me like a balloon. i momentarily forget all the horrible, traumatic events that have transpired and allow myself to cling to that elation. i haven't felt it in a while. my feet carry to them, not running to just one person but to the group as a whole.

i'm not sure if i'm surprised or not when i find myself secured in peeta's muscular arms. he whispers in my ear, "proud of you," before passing me on to katniss. she overlooks me in my tribute clothing and a strange expression passes across her face. it's gone in a second and she too welcomes me into a warm embrace. even haymitch hugs me and congratulates me on my bravery. effie cries profusely and is, for once, unable to speak.

it all feels too surreal.

"matthias and portia are elsewhere," effie is finally able to explain as she wipes her eyes. "the capital wants to film the reunion on live television."

i resist the urge to roll my eyes at the ridiculous katniss and peeta parallels and turn to them. "sorry, guys. we stole your spotlight."

peeta shrugs modestly. "you deserve it."

katniss, on the other hand, laughs. "take it. please."

then i remember cinna. he hasn't said much, or anything at all, rather. he stands patiently off to the side and looks just as i remember him. he still has the same close-cropped hair and gold eyeliner that contrasts beautifully against his dark skin. his eyes catch mine and he holds out a hand. "come on. let's get ready to wow the crowd."

i let him put his arm around my shoulder and guide me to an elevator. the hospital is far beneath the ground, even further than the gym we used for training. we reach the lobby and cross the empty floor to the tribute elevator. guards flank either side of our path. my eyes cast over them and a chill runs down my spine at the sight of their large guns.

once we step into the elevator, cinna presses the twelfth button. i half-expect for the lift to stop at the fourth floor and for asher to come inside, complaining about his costume for the opening ceremony.

"my stylist is such an idiot. district four: fishing. i was a fish. i'd love to jab a knife in his eye."

i've gone stiff as a board. my eyes lock onto the shiny, transparent doors without seeing them. cinna notices my rigidity and tightens his arm around me.

a faint ding informs us we've arrived at our floor. i blink away the stupor and tread into the familiar foyer, a strong nostalgic feeling weighing me down.

"nice talk, twelve."

and even though i feel as if a needle is hovering over me, threatening to pop the balloon of joy that's slowly deflating, i push it away. octavia, flavius, and venia practically pounce on me before i can take more than two steps. they speak so quickly that i can't understand them, but their enthusiasm slightly warms my heart.

in the dining room, actual food is waiting for me on the table: a bowl of chicken and rice soup, soft crackers on the side, more applesauce, and steaming tea. i ease into the plush chair slowly and shoot venia a questioning look. she shrugs. "these foods are supposed to help your stomach, my dear. they don't want you eating anything hard yet."

when i eat, i discover she's right. a little flare of pain stings my insides after i swallow. however, i try not to dwell on it too much.

my prep team whisks me off as soon as i finish. cinna disappears while they get my camera-ready. i barely hear their constant chatter over the thoughts swarming my head. it doesn't seem real. i have a fear that this is all just a pleasant dream and i'm going to wake up back in the arena.

after i've been cleaned and beautified, cinna arrives with a poofy, charcoal-colored dress in his hands.

i raise my eyebrows in question. "what happened to the fire?"

cinna doesn't respond. instead, he thrusts his arms out as an invitation for me to take the dress. i obey and pull the soft fabric over my head. instantly i notice that it's not as curve-hugging like the others, but seems to poof in just the right way so the frailness of my starved body is obscured.

the prep team starts on my hair after the dress is on. they don't allow me to even peek at the mirror, turning my chin or body if i accidentally move. eventually, they let me look at my reflection.

it's not usual capital attire. instead of glamorous and eye-catching colors, my team and cinna worked together to create an elegant, polished look. my hair is fashioned in some sort of updo that resembles a bun, but it's much more refined. i have one swipe of eyeliner and no shimmering dust on my eyelids this time. they painted my lips a ruby red. the darkness should make me appear ghastly and washed-out, but whatever they did makes me look nothing like the sort.

but i understand cinna's hidden message almost immediately and watch the smile fade from my face.

i know what happened to the fire. it burned out.

gif is thalia getting stabbed ouch

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this is pretty short but i wanted to get this out there, especially after the major cliffhanger! i apologize for that. not really.

xoxo,

kristyn