Wild Card || Levi x Reader

eighteen - when I've worn out my friends

Fun (?) fact: that 'maybe red-head, maybe Em's just crazy' girl that Em stabbed by accident in her frenzy at the end of last chapter was gonna be Petra. I seriously thought of taking her down the nurse route (like Prim) and having Em accidentally kill her, but that felt like too much, even for me. So no, it was not Petra, and no, it was not a fatal shot lol. You're welcome?

Enjoy loves, xoxo

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Levi, for the first time in his life, is at a loss.

Nothing could've prepared him for this. Nothing could've prepared him for the unadulterated fury in your eyes, the speed at which you came at him with whatever the fuck you had in your hands. The words that had come out of your mouth, filled with hateful anger that he's heard from you before, but it's the first time it's been directed at him.

He just can't wrap his head around it. That's not you. You're... that's not you. 

The world around him is a blur as you're taken out of the room, with everyone yelling and someone helping the poor nurse up from the ground, clutching at her bloody shoulder. He can't hear anything. It's like there's some sort of white noise machine in his head.

He just... stands there. Staring at your now-empty bed. 

God, he'd just been so excited for you to wake up. Nervous too. Obviously, the Capitol had done something to you- but you were only there for maybe twenty-four hours. How bad could it have been, right?

How did they do this to you? How did they turn you into this in so little time?

He almost doesn't want to know. 

Someone eventually comes up to him, grabbing onto his arm. It's Hange- he shouldn't be surprised. Hange says something, something he can't hear, and then pulls him away. He doesn't care where they lead him to. They could drop him right off at the Capitol doorstep and he wouldn't care.

Instead, Hange carts Levi towards his room. They go inside and Hange pushes him towards his bed. He sits down, head still spinning. Hange's saying something, something he can't hear.

He forces himself to listen. "We saw the logs," the stylist is saying. "Hyper focused tracker jacker venom. Repeat injections. She never stood a chance, Levi. It was just too much."

Never stood a chance. Levi hates that. You always have a chance. You always give yourself a chance.

"Just go," he mutters. He wants to be alone.

"We're going to figure it out," Hange insists, forcing optimism into their tone. "We have their logs. We can figure it out."

"Hange," Levi says tiredly. "Just go."

"Levi, it's not a lost cause. We-"

"Hange."

The stylist pauses. Then, they listen. They go.

And Levi sits far back on his bed, spine against the wall and head tipped back as Hange leaves. The door closes, and it's only then that Levi lets his head fall into his hands, and he tries to summon any kind of emotion that he can think of that would relieve even the tiniest bit of pressure in his head. Yelling, screaming. Maybe hitting something.

Instead, Levi sinks in on himself, and he desperately wishes that he could cry.

.

When you wake up again, it feels like you're back in the Capitol.

You're in a room by yourself, laying on a bed, wrists tied down to the side rails on either side of you. There's a few differences: the walls are grey, not white, and there's a massive rectangular mirror on the wall in front of you. The bed you're in is comfier than the chair the Capitol strapped you to. And the best part- there's no carts or desks with instruments that could prove painful for you.