lethal
xxx ─── epilogue .
" you're not alone "
rowan's view
𝔗he very first thing I registered upon consciousness was how cold I felt. The bones in my fingers cracked with the effort of movement, and it felt as if a blanket of ice had been laid upon me, numbing all of my nerves until I was paralyzed. Reason suggested I had been administered a paralysis drug, or had been unconscious for several days, but fear dictated my mind. Perhaps I was dead.
When I opened my eyes, I was met with blinding white so bright I had to blink rapidly to adjust. A light was positioned just above me, emitting cool light with a faint sound indicating its efforts. Air flooded my lungs, spots dancing behind my vision as it did so. I managed to twist my head to the side, averting my eyes from the light.
As soon as I saw the heart monitor, I was made aware of the steady sound indicating that I was, in fact, alive. I stared at the line representing the rhythm of my heart, watching as it repeated the same sequence with hardly any change. I allowed myself to be momentarily lost in it, grateful that I hadn't died on that field.
The realization was startling when it appeared, and it made me sit right up on the surgical bed, even though it made my head spin and vomit rise in my throat.
I was not dead, nor was I in the arena, which meant... I won. My chest shook as I exhaled, and I raised my hand to cover the sound. I began to work backwards in my memory, starting with the overwhelming pain I could remember before everything had gone dark. I carefully lifted my hospital dress, examining the proof of the battle I had won: a scar twisting from my right hip bone up to just behind the shoulder blade. I traced the length of it with my index finger, examining the perfect stitching with the knowledge that no manner of treatment would stop the scarring.
Further up on my right arm was a precise laceration, courtesy of the muttations I remembered were made of pure flame. I squeezed my eyes shut as they filled my mind, the fire so hot I could almost feel it still.
Finally, my fingers reached up to brush the line across my cheekbone. It had healed nicely, but like all of my wounds, it would scar and remain for years to come. I could hardly stand the thought of my family seeing those scars and remembering what had happened to me, and what I had done. They would be constant, visible reminders of what had gone on in that arena.
It was then that my mind wandered, and conjured the sensation of a jacket being clutched in my hands before I had fallen unconscious. The medical room was empty, so there was no one to stop me from ripping out the needles stuck in the crook of my elbow, and swinging my legs over the side. Supporting my weight was difficult, but necessary if I was going to find Cato. He wasn't dead - the cannon hadn't gone before the victory song played - this, I knew. I could recall the rise and fall of his chest, even as I had crawled towards him.
If he was alive, he wouldn't be kept far away. Every instinct I had pushed me towards him, and outside of this porcelain and glass prison. I yearned to hug Prim and Katniss, to joke with Gale and to run through the forests of home. I no longer wished to endure the attention of the Capitol, not that it would truly be my choice.
There was an alert sounding from the machine next to my bed, beckoning me back to rest, but I simply scowled at it. Knowing I had little time before the alarm summoned others, I wrapped my hand around the cold metal handle to the room's only door. To my surprise, I hadn't been locked in. I suspected cameras were hidden around every nook and cranny of the room; perhaps this was another sick game of theirs, to entertain themselves while they waited for the final interviews and victory tour.
The hallways of the medical center were painted with the same vivid white that symbolized President Snow's idea of perfection, and it was all I wanted to smear blood across them, and toss buckets of it onto the white stone floors.
To the right was a hallway with several doors, and hoping they were patient rooms, I turned down that way. At first I was walking, but it built to a jog as I rushed to get to the first room. Through the window in the door, I could see it looked exactly like my room, but there was no one inside.
The next room was the same, and the room after that. Impatience gnawed at my mind, and I wanted to scream from the frustration. The alarms in the hallway rang louder with each passing moment. When I heard the footsteps coming down the generic hallways, I turned just in time to see them coming.
Four Peacekeepers, in their white uniforms, holding batons I had no doubt would send me to unconsciousness, accompanied by two outrageously dressed Capitolian doctors. I was weak and had no weapons, so I had nothing to do but turn and run.
Every room I passed was as empty as the ones before, making the panic rise higher in my throat. Breath became difficult to capture, and I could feel my hands begin to shake uncontrollably. I could feel my body fail me, my pace becoming more difficult to maintain when my knees buckled with my own weight.
The people sent to retrieve me didn't need to catch me, after all. I fell to the ground before they were in close vicinity, my body caving in on itself. Images of Cato, of the final moment in the arena, bombarded my mind until all I could see was his face twisted in pain. I couldn't do this alone, I couldn't go through the tour, and the interviews... not without him. The dependence was like a drug I had sworn I wouldn't succumb to, yet I had failed, and its absence sent me into shock, rocking me back and forth on the cold floor, praying everything would just go away.
𝔛
Waking up for the second time was not nearly as frightening. Absent was the paralysis I had experienced beforehand, and gone was the fear of death. I knew where I was, and what had happened, from the moment I opened my eyes.
The heart monitor had been plugged back in, and I could feel the needles in my arm pumping chemicals into my system. Ripping them out of my arm proved impossible; the metal cuffs around my wrists and ankles kept me bound to the surgical bed, as if I were something that needed containing.
I could hear faint whispers that told me I was not alone, though I doubted I wanted the presence of whoever had the pleasure of sharing the room with me. I didn't even want to look at them, knowing that they could not be any of the people I wanted to see.
"Who's there?" I asked instead, my voice unused and weak. When I was met with startled silence, I felt anger rise in my chest. "Tell me who you are, you fucking cowards."
"Outer district tributes always have foul mouths," I heard one whisper, quietly, as if they were afraid for me to hear. There wasn't much noise in the small room, so every word reached my ears. I should have been angry, even though their words had a glimmer of truth to them. Instead, I could only scowl and turn my head to the side, so I could once again watch the monitor.
The next voice that spoke was different, "your mentor will be here soon, Miss Everdeen," she said softly. It took a moment for me to connect my mentor to Haymitch, and then to images and memories of him. More than any memory, I could remember the feeling of resolve when I thought I would never see him again. It seemed fate had proven me wrong.
As soon as I decided to passively wait, the door to the room opened, letting a wave of warmer air in. I sat up as much as I could, attempting to meet Haymitch's eyes as he walked in. He only glanced near me before turning to the doctors, who I then observed as a woman with rainbow hair pinned up on top of her head, and a man with glittering orange paint atop his skin. Haymitch gestured for them to leave. "Give us a minute."
The door locked when the doctors shut it, and the silence became stifling. Haymitch seemed wary, in the same way as the doctors. He had heard of my temporary escape; I knew from the look in his eye. I strained against the confines of the cuffs, hissing lightly, "get me out of these, Haymitch."
"They're for your protection," he said immediately, crossing his arms and making no move to let me out.
"My protection, or yours?" To this, he said nothing, though when he raised his eyebrows, I knew I was right.
"You've been under for around two days. The victory interview is scheduled for another day from now, if you're able," Haymitch said blankly, avoiding my eyes.
"Haymitch," I said, my tone low and dangerous, making him flinch. "What aren't you telling me?" It only took another moment for my mind to piece together what could be keeping him silent. "Haymitch, where's Cato?"
I pulled against the metal cuffs until I felt the edge dig into my skin. "Where's Cato!" I said louder, my voice reduced to a deep growl. If I had been able to hear myself, I knew I wouldn't recognize my own voice. "Haymitch!" My voice continued to get higher when he didn't answer.
The door to the hospital room opened again, the doctors rushing back in along with the Peacekeepers I was sure had been stationed outside my door.
"ANSWER ME!" I bellowed, shaking against the restraints like a rabid animal, with desperate hope that they would give way. The Peacekeepers had to grab me and push me down, and even then I kept thrashing and screaming. The loneliness I could feel crawling up my throat was stark, and overwhelming.
Haymitch maintained his silence, only nodding at the doctors when they began to ready an injection of what was sure to be a knockout drug. I struggled against the grip of the Peacekeepers, trying to keep as far away from the doctors as possible.
"Fuck you," I snapped when Haymitch began to retreat from the room.
He froze in his tracks. I watched, sweat rolling from my forehead and obstructing my vision, as he looked over his shoulder, finally meeting my eyes. They were a detached blue, not unlike Cato's, and I could scarcely detect emotion as I searched his gaze. "You're not alone, Everdeen."
While I sputtered at the vague words he offered me, he took the opportunity to finally leave, the door sealing behind him. It was the last thing I saw, as the needle haphazardly stuck into my arm injected cold liquid that quickly spread through my body. I shuddered, and slumped back down as darkness swallowed me again.
You're not alone.
xxx
n o t e s
this has been such a long, crazy, incredible journey! i want to thank all of you for your continued support and feedback, and tell you how great it's been to hear that you've enjoyed the story!
going through the earlier chapters made me wonder why anyone was willing to read that shit, but i hope i've developed into a good enough storyteller to bring you all back for the following books!
as i mentioned in the final chapter, there will be a sequel to lethal. when it's posted, there will be an announcement chapter in this book as well as a message on my profile to let you all know that it's been published. i hope you all return to hear the continued story of rowan everdeen!
thanks again! xoxo