The Hunger Games (Peeta's Point of View)

Chapter Twenty Six

He gives a nod, for some obscure reason, then descends upon me. I'm aware of the needle piercing my skin, but of nothing afterwards.

Consciousness seems to be only a temporary state that I slip in and out of at the most inopportune of times. I seem to be surrounded by strangers constantly, who I later recognise to be my prep team, who squeal whenever they notice my eyes opening, and then punch a button to dose me up with more medicine that knocks me out. The only one who appears to be unaffected by my random awakenings is Ferdie, whose green eyes glint amusingly into my own, before pressing the drugs button.

After what seems a lifetime, I'm finally allowed to open my eyes again. The room is bathed in a pale haze but there are no lights on the ceiling. Cautiously I turn my head, feeling fresh relief when I figure I'm free of the neck bracer. No sconces shine down from the walls, either, and as far as I can tell there are no windows. Or doors, for that matter. Vulnerability hits me, one of the more logical feelings I've had for a while. I take a deep breath of air to fill my lungs. As I exhale, my breath smells heady. 

There are fewer tubes this time, and they're only invading my arms; this and the lack of harsh lighting suggests I am not in the operating room any more. My body movement is restricted by a band around my waist, but I can slide my hand under the covers to feel my leg- well, it's not my leg, just a leg, made from some hi-tech material they have here. The contours of it are not as sharp as I feared; the leg is quite smooth yet sturdy under my fingertips. It'll take a lot of getting used to, though. I run my fingers over my other leg, and feel the familiar warmth of flesh. It is cleaner and softer than before. Even my face feels brand-new, with the film of dirt removed and the cuts gone and my skin being plumper. Again, they've removed the physical scars, but the mental ones will always remain.

There must be a door in the room because, all of a sudden, the Avox male walks in with a tray. I can see a bowl of something set precariously on the edge. He places it on my lap and presses a button on the movement-restricting band. I'm half-expecting it to inject more painkillers into my body but instead, the band loosens, and he motions for me to sit up. Nothing hurts. At times like these it's good that the Capitol has such technology at its disposal. 

I want to ask about Katniss- where she is, how she is- but my muscles are still slow, and little sound is made. The Avox presses the glass of water to my lips, and I drink, having to do so slowly or the water would spill out of my mouth. I'm hit with a desire to see her again. Surely if Katniss wasn't okay then they would let me know. Being kept in the dark like this makes me restless though, and I'm all but plotting my escape when the Avox leaves- through a door that's set into the wall and must open from the other side. That plot's scuppered. Frankly, it wouldn't surprise me if the Gamemakers implemented cameras in our heads, too.

The meal is meagre, even compared to the rations we had during the Games. Yet, to my surprise, I find it's difficult to eat. I take it slowly, with tiny sips of the soup, and nibbles of the apple, and it takes at least half an hour to go down. Is Katniss eating the same meal somewhere?

As soon as I've taken my last bite, the Avox enters the room through the door in the wall again, this time armed with an outfit and some silver contraption. When he sets them down on the bed I see that the clothes are the outfit we wore in the arena, and the metal thing is actually a cane. I regard the things warily, not wanting to know what they'll make us do with them. I raise a brow at the Avox, but of course he can't say anything, just leaves me in solitary confinement.

I go to drag myself out of bed, but the tubes are still going in and out of my body, so they prevent me from escaping. Someone enters for the third time. Portia. I let out a choked cry, because she's the first person that I have seen since the arena who carries fond memories. She smiles at me, and it's so infectious, and then I'm smiling too and she starts to cry and then so do I. The whole thing is so surreal, but in context, it's the most normal thing that's happened all week.