Guest of 13

[amichan]

 I don't know these people. I don't know these people.

They say I'm safe but I don't know these people. They insist; but who are they?

White walls. Grey walls. Those things I recognize.

Medical equipment. These things are familiar.

But people no.

Stay still.

Watch.

Wait.

Things don't burn me but they ache.

"Peeta," soft, breathy, relief.

That voice. A trick. Always a trick.

Watch. Wait. Where is she? Where is threat?

I can play too. Get close before...all shaky breaths and fake happiness.

Good mutt actress waiting to strike and break me.

Not this time.

Not this time.

Hands around her throat before she can strike.

Shock on her face.

Good.

I have upper hand this time.

She gags, struggles, rolls. I'm thrown.

Strike back. She's reeling from the attack and I get her again before she has a chance to turn.

No more claws.

Not this time.

She won't hurt me. Won't hurt anyone.

No more mutt. No more pain.

No more.

Not again.

But then darkness.

 

#%#%#%#%#%#

 

Everything is itchy. Can't sleep. Can't be still. Noise everywhere. It's all over the sheets and the bed crawling inside my flesh but they won't chew through the straps and let me out. Where is the fog? It's not shown up yet and I don't see him coming in with his syringe.

Oh, wait, there's the door.

It's someone different. Two. No, three.

They circle the bed. Two come to other side of my head and one stays at the foot of it.

I don't know them. One I saw before she came in.

The other two I don't know. Both have brown hair. All have gray on under their pale blue pinafores. The one I've seen before is more red in hair, pinched. There are nerves. Oh, there are the needles.

“We need blood,” one of the brown hairs says.

Looks exchanged. Wrist grabbed. I try to pull. Not much move though.

“Who are you?”

“You were told,” Other brown hair says.

More looks between them. I pull again. No give.

“Stay still! Do you want to bleed everywhere?”

“Where is this? You aren't the same!” Have to go. Have to go. Not safe. Not them. Not the same. Pop thumb. Then back in place. Grab. Throw over bed into other one, “Stay off me! You're not right!” I can undo the legs get the other hand out. There'll be more. Guards, but things fade. Unexpected.

“You didn't expect measures? Have fun with that...we'll get the blood anyway.”

 

#%#%#%#%#%#

 

Mouth is thick. Everything is scratchy.

The door has opened and someone is coming in with something on wheels. Things chink together. They wear gray, all gray, long sleeves, long pants, short red hair. Letters I can't read. Their movements are stiff.

“Good morning,” They say carefully, brushing down the front of their clothes, “You may not remember where you are. This is District 13. We rescued you from the Capitol,” the words seem clunky, “I brought you food,” They point to the tray, “Attendants will come in to help you eat,” They slap their feet together, spin and leave the room.

Two other people come in now. One is the same one I've seen each time so far. The other is different again and looks uneasy with their red hair and pale skin. Does no one see sun?

“Are we going to behave today?” The known one asks.

I don't say anything. I just look at him.

“We-we have water and porridge for you,” the red head says. Both of them with the gray overalls and the blue pinafores. It's so strange after the way everyone looked in the other place. The Capitol. So, this is not the Capitol. This is District 13. That sounds odd. Why does that sound odd.

“We're not going to remove the restraints. Until we know you can be trusted to remain calm. So, Brenda will feed you,” he says.

Brenda does not look entirely happy with this arrangement but picks up the bowl and spoon and brings it to me after the other has pressed things and the bed has changed so that I'm in a sitting position. I can see the room now. It's small. There is a glass panel in front of me which has a curtain on the outside, fully drawn and other panels on this side that are partly open. Cabinets below this panel. A cupboard on this side. The door behind me to the right that's where they always come from but I can't turn enough to see all of it now or when lying down.

The porridge is a familiar consistency but it's taste is different. It seems flat. I eat though. But I can't eat much of it before I feel sick. He makes notes on his thing. Brenda is told to give me water and then they leave.

Well, I'm sitting up now.