The Murderess - Rewrite

Chapter 39

Johanna is upset.

"I turn away for one second to throw up and you're gone," she says. "And suddenly you don't come back and now you're telling me Misha was lingering around this whole time? That's annoying."

I rub my forehead, wrapped in a blanket and seated at the foot of Johanna's bed while Finnick waits by the door for Annie, who is bringing us our dinner. "Yes, well, I didn't quite plan to be escorted away at gunpoint."

She snorts. "I don't think Annie and I planned that either but Snow had other plans. Are you alright, physically?"

"Yes," I reply. "Dr. Gren did a quick checkup and aside from the stress, everything's fine. Misha didn't exactly put up a fight."

"I don't think anyone could put up a fight against you."

Finnick notices that this comment isn't necessarily comforting me. "Hey, Morgan," he says gently. "Gretya will come back. She'll understand. She probably just needs a moment to process everything."

I glance at him and shrug my shoulders dejectedly. "Maybe..."

Johanna sucks loudly on an ice chip. "She'll get over it, kids always do."

"I don't want her to just 'get over it,'" I reply. "Gretya's sixteen. When I was sixteen, I didn't see things as they actually were. I was blind to a lot, I didn't process loss the same way I do now. I had to learn to suck up my anger and fear to keep myself alive. She doesn't have to do that and I can't pretend Misha meant nothing to her. He hurt her after saving her life... it's been only a week since she was attacked, she's barely processed that and now I can't expect her to turn around immediately and give me a hug after I killed him."

This still doesn't make sense to Johanna. "So? She's old enough to know the difference between good people and bad people. He would've killed you otherwise. You had no choice, we all understand that."

"We were in the Games. Gretya wasn't. You know, even after she and Misha watched me on television, I don't think my sister ever really internalized what I'm capable of. To see me kill on screen from miles away is one thing, but to know of it so close, with someone she actually knew? It wasn't easy for me to kill all the people I did, whether I knew them well or not. She's even more detached from that. I don't necessarily blame her for needing some space to realize that she's safe, not only from Misha but from me. It might take a moment for her to confirm with herself that the things I can do... I will never use against her."

"She'll come around," Finnick promises as Annie comes in, beaming and wheeling the cart that has four trays of food. Johanna is going to make another attempt at eating, insisting the porridge's taste was the problem, not her body. "Thank you, Annie."

"Welcome," she says sweetly, passing the trays. "Johanna. You're awake."

"I've been awake," says Johanna, narrowing her eyes at the cacti lathered in sauce. "Is that even good?"

"It's delicious," Finnick promises. "Try it. If not, there's leftover applesauce from lunch."

Annie pulls her chair over, sitting cross-legged with the tray on her lap and mindlessly making the already small bits of cacti even smaller with her fingers. "I'm glad you are okay, Morgan," says Annie thoughtfully.

"Thank you, Annie," I say with a small smile. "Me, too. How are you settling in?"

She shrugs. "Everyone is quiet here. Not like Four. There is no beautiful ocean, though..." she stares at the food and seems to forget she's talking to us until Finnick taps her shoulder. "Oh. Yes, no ocean. I miss that. In the Capitol, they gave me a picture on the wall with an ocean. I always looked like I was home but I knew better."