The Hunger Games

Chapter 23

          I’m dead. I should be dead. I have to be dead. I feel nothing. I see nothing. Everything in numb, everything is pitch black, total darkness, and I can’t hear anything, or make a sound. It’s dead quiet.

          Whatever or whoever killed me, it’s done. I’m dead…dead…dead.

          It’s said that when you die, you get a flashback of everything that happened in your life. You supposed to feel warm and welcome as you go to heaven, but I don’t feel that. I just feel cold, and I’m remembering nothing from my early past. Remembering the things can be good, and bad, meeting Danny, good. Jake’s death, bad. Of course I remember them, but they aren’t flashing through my mind with a bunch of other memories.

          Why does death feel so lonely and cold? Or, is this death? I have to be because I am dead.

          It takes awhile for me to come to my senses to the fact that I’m not dead, and still alive, most likely unconscious, and been out for a few days.

          I soon hear something very faint, and feel something on my cheek, and stroking my hair back. But it’s all very faint, and I can’t clearly feel the force on me, or hear the words.

          Then the smell of trees fills the area. Soon, the scent of fire over takes it.

          I want to wake up, to open my eyes, to move, but I can’t. I can’t move, and I’m not even sure I’m breathing. But I have to be…I hear a faint whisper telling me to wake up. After a few times of the voice replaying itself over and over, I feel a force upon my lips, a very faint force.

          My finger tips start tingling. The rest of my body feels numb, but they start to tingle too. My joints still feel stiff though, but I’m able to flutter my eyes open. My vision is blurry, but I could make out Danny’s face above mine. His face is red and his eyes are closed shut. As my vision clears, I notice his face is a little wet, and he must have been crying. He clenches my right hand in both his hands.

          I struggle to speak. “Danny…” is all I can say, in a faint weak voice, and is a little scratchy. I slowly lift my arm and rub my fingers through his hair. “Danny,” I say again, in a clearer voice, louder than the first time, but not so much.

          His eyes shoot open, looking dead into mine. He smiles and picks me up, sitting me against a tree. He grabs me, squeezing me tightly, and sighs in relief. I could hear him talk softly, continuing to say that he’s so glad to have me back or something. I still can’t really hear it. I feel stiff and weak, and can’t really say anything. He releases me, and I fall back against the tree. I just stare at him, zoned out and my eyes probably dull from their usual brown color. There is most likely a frown upon my face, because I feel to week to move anything really.

          “Hey,” Danny finally says with a piece of kill in his hand.

          I cough and try to speak. My voice is still a little woozy, but I manage to get the words out clear when I speak. “Hey, what happened?”

          “You blacked out,” he says. “Here, I thought you might be hungry.” He hands me the meat and I take it, beginning to chew on it. The smell makes my stomach growl. It tastes sweet and tender, and satisfies my stomach. I’m so hungry, and I should be. Who knows how long I was out?

          “How long was I out?” I ask when I finish, wanting more to eat.

          “About three days.” He says. He twirls with my loose hair. I notice he’s taken out the braid.