Pure Torture: a Hunger Games Fanfiction

Chapter 28

Katniss

"Yes, I'm a sinner. Yes, I'm a saint. Whatever happens here, whatever happens here... We remain." -Christina Aguilera

In the past few days, the Physical pain has slacked off substantially. I can sit up now, talk and eat, and the headaches are only occasional due to my impressive concussion. All they need to do is complete the neat stitches on my arms and the cuts on my chest, and then let it all heal up. Then maybe, just maybe, they'll let me out of here and let me live my life and fight this war.

But, even then, the mental pain still lingers. Perhaps this pain is even more debilitating than any physical harm I could have done to myself that morning. I spend most of my hours questioning every move I make. I often find myself blaming myself for any mistake made, no matter how small. I'm also told to stop apologizing for even things I haven't really done.

So this is what Snow designed to turn me into: A broken girl who cannot even spill a drop of water on the floor without questioning herself and apologizing to everyone in the room. Instead of the steady, strong girl I was before this, I am shaky, anxious, and loaded with guilt.
I assume it's just what Snow had in mind.

Because if I can't even spill a bit of water on the table without crying with guilt, there's no way I can help the rebels overtake the Capitol, and there's also no way I can send an arrow through his black heart.

Peeta and Prim stop in periodically, Prim more often than Peeta for obvious reasons. She works here, and isn't training for the army like Peeta is.

Which reminds me of something... When do I start my training? I mean, I know I'm still needing a wheelchair to move around, but when can I start? So, the next time Prim comes in, I ask if she can take me to see Coin. She nods and grabs a wheelchair from outside in the hall. After helping me in it, she holds on to the handles and starts to push me.

I stop her before we can even get out of the room.
"No," I say, "let me."
"Are you sure you can?" She asks.
I nod, and place my shaky hands on the wheels of the wheelchair. I slowly push them forwards and feel the chair begin to move. I wince a little as the sharp pain sent up my arms becomes worse with every push. But I remind myself that if Prim wheels me in, I'm sure to not get to train. I need to look self sufficient, I need to look strong.

When I enter the room, Coin sits with Boggs and Plutarch and Haymitch. It's an odd group to possibly be chatting with, but I'm intruding anyway. When the door opens, they all turn to look at me.
Haymitch has a look plastered on his face that says he's not surprised I'm here.
Plutarch looks uneasy, probably seeing my underwhelming condition.
And then there's Coin and Boggs, who simply don't do anything.

Prim leans down from behind me and reminds me that I need to speak.
I take a deep breath.

"I'm sorry if I'm interrupting something..." I say, quietly.
"Miss Everdeen," Boggs says, reassuringly, "Go ahead. You're not interrupting."
I wheel myself farther into the room, trying not to wince in front of them.
When I get closer to where they are, I begin to talk.
"I was just wondering when I get to train." I ask, shyly. Plutarch laughs a little, but he's the only one who finds it funny. Coin looks me up and down, sizing me up.

"Well," she says, "I think it might be a while. Actually, I think it would be a miracle if you actually got to go to the Capitol at all."
My heart sinks. This is not the kind of answer I wanted. I look to Boggs, next.
"Katniss... You're in a wheelchair. There's no way you could be able to handle yourself in a battle situation in your condition, even when we ship out in a couple of weeks." He says, sadly.

"I can try." I say hopefully.
"Actually, you can't train until someone at the hospital authorizes you to train." Coin says.
I turn my head to look at Prim.
"And, Miss Everdeen, it has to be a doctor. Not a nurse or a nurse in training." She continues.
I look to Haymitch, hoping he will side with me. He sees my look, and then it's as if he's deciding something.
"I'm going to have to say no, too." He says. "There are too many things that can go wrong! You could be in battle and have a relapse and be in critical condition on the front lines, you could kill yourself in any number of ways, and I can't stop thinking about you feeling so guilty, you turn yourself in and then you'll most surely be dead."