Warmth caressed the tips of Hazel’s fingers, light and soft like a summer breeze. A rich, floral scent tinged with something artificial and sterile filled her nostrils. Her mind felt fuzzy and muted, as if it wasn’t her own. Hazel’s eyes flickered open, then immediately closed against the glare of fluorescent lights. She was on her back, the surface beneath her soft yet firm. Thick blankets covered her, sliding along the bare skin of her legs and arms as she stretched her aching limbs. Her left foot and hand felt heavy. A familiarly thin, cotton-like material covered the rest of her—a hospital gown. She had folded hundreds of them but had never actually worn one.

“Hazel?” A melodic feminine voice filled her ears.

Her eyes snapped open again, squinting against the harsh brightness. She was in an odd room, devoid of color and covered in various shades of white. The starkness was unsettling, like being trapped in an empty milk carton. A bank of windows to her left displayed the sprawling Capitol in the growing mid-morning sun. Monitors and lights beeped and blinked around her. Several white chairs were arranged against the far wall. She pulled herself upright, but her head immediately spun, and consciousness wavered.

“Don’t sit up, dear.” A soft hand met Hazel’s shoulder, gently pushing her back. Her neck met a fluffy pillow that smelled of pungent detergents.

“Indira?” Hazel questioned as she squinted to see the figure hovering over her bed. Indira peered down at her. She appeared so different from the last time Hazel had seen her. Her long hair was braided into a high bun, and her normally elegant features appeared younger in the cool-toned lighting. A slight pink ring of swelling encircled her eyes. There was no trace of adornment, finery, or embellishments anywhere. Hazel almost wouldn’t have recognized her if it weren’t for that unique voice. Indira’s face filled with pity as she observed the girl before her.

“You might not want to hear this, but I am glad to see you.” Indira’s voice cracked, and she wiped her eyelids. Hazel stared at her, unable to respond. She had never expected to see Indira again.

“How are you feeling?” Indira continued.

Hazel's brows scrunched together at the question. It was a simple inquiry, yet she stared up at Indira as if she were speaking another language. How am I feeling?

Her attention shifted around the room, taking in more of her bizarre surroundings. She stretched both her arms out before her. The pain was present, but it was dulled. An IV line with clear glistening fluids disappeared beneath the now clean skin of her right forearm. She paused to follow the line to a bag hanging from a pole above her. Various monitors and tubes were attached to her arms, chest, and legs, each snaking out from her body to blinking machinery behind her. It was so much more complex than anything she had seen in the hospital in District Seven.

Besides the monitors, a metallic bedside table stood to her right. Several items were laid out carefully on its reflective surface: the crumpled, mud-stained remains of a card, Cedar’s necklace, and Grace’s weathered coin. The sight of these objects brought reality crashing down over her again. The Games were really over. She was alive, but she was the only one. Hazel looked away and covered her face as her emotions broke through the drug-induced haze.

“Hazel? Can you hear me?” Indira whispered.

Hazel’s body began to shake as she tried to push away the devastation seeping into her bloodstream like poison. Hot tears pressed against her eyelids as the image of the forest melting and Snow’s words echoing in her ears replayed in her mind. She pressed her palms hard against her eyes, willing the image of Silus’s wrists away.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I can leave if you want?” Indira whispered, and Hazel could hear the click of her high heels as she took hesitant steps backward.

Hazel pulled her hands away from her face as she coughed, “Wait.”

She sat up again, slower this time. Her entire body ached as if her skin were one giant bruise. Indira shifted closer once again, hands out, ready to steady her.

“Where am I?” Hazel croaked.

“The best hospital in the Capitol. In a private suite, of course,” Indira said, nodding over her shoulder. Hazel followed her gaze; outside, the Capitol teemed with life. It was a cheery, sunny morning, and gorgeous sunlight streamed through the windows. The white room began to reflect the warm golden light of the new day. Hazel wanted to vomit.

“Where’s Silus?” Hazel asked, squinting at the sunlight.

Indira froze, her face uncertain. “Hazel…”

Hazel shook her head, rubbing away the tears. Indira must think she was crazy or delusional. Hell, maybe I am. “Indira, I know ….I know he’s... gone.” Saying it out loud nearly made her fall apart. She swallowed hard. “Where did they take him?”

Indira looked behind her before moving closer to Hazel’s bed. “He’s at the morgue, my dear.” Indira swallowed, a sparkle of unshed tears dancing in her eyes. “They are getting him ready to go home.”

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Hazel sucked in a sharp breath as fresh tears brimmed. No matter how much she willed them away, they flowed down her face. The morgue. It made sense, but she wasn’t prepared to hear it. “I want to see him.”

Indira placed her elegant hand over Hazel’s scratched and bruised one, tapping it softly. “You will when it is time.”

“Who decides when that is?” The spark from before reignited within her.

Indira studied her features with a slight frown. After a long sigh, she replied, “The Gamemakers.”

Hazel’s eyes narrowed, and she looked away. Of course. “Well, then, I want to talk with one of them.”

“They will meet with you, I promise,” Indira said, squeezing Hazel’s hand, “just not right now.”

Hazel bit her lip, willing the spark of anger to overtake the sorrow. She pulled her hand away from Indira's, gripped the thick blankets, and tore them away from her. She hauled her legs to the edge of the bed, moaning deeply as dampened pain filled her limbs. Her left foot felt heavy, encased in a thick white cast from her purple and blue toes to her calf.

“Wait. Your leg is broken. You need to rest.” Indira’s eyes widened in alarm as she raised her arms toward Hazel.

Hazel glanced away from the appendage without a second thought. “Where are they?”

Indira's brow furrowed as she placed her hands on Hazel’s shoulders. “You can’t just walk out of here to find them.”

“Watch me.” Hazel ripped the IV line taped to her arm and tore off the various monitors, tossing them away. The liquid from the IV squirted over the bed and floor. Alarms and angry, insistent beeping filled the air.

Indira let out a yip of shock but didn’t let her go or back away. Her face was imploring as she fought for Hazel to look at her. “Listen to me. You are upset, and you have every right to be.” Indira placed a palm on Hazel’s cheek, turning her head to meet her eyes. “Every right. But you cannot just storm out of here. You need to be smart and think about what you are doing.”

More tears ran down Hazel’s face as she stared back. “I'm done with the games.”

Indira’s hand dropped from Hazel, and a knowing look overtook her face. “I wish that were true. I really do.”

Hazel shook her head and pushed herself forward, wobbling to her feet. Alarms continued to blare around them in various, contrasting tempos. Her left foot throbbed with sharp pain, but it wasn’t like in the arena. Her nerves were numb. Her head was light, and she gripped her temple.

Indira grabbed Hazel’s arm, steadying her before she fell. “Hazel, please. They will come in any minute.”

Hazel took another unsteady step toward the door, pushing away from Indira.

“Hazel, please listen to me,” Indira begged, but Hazel limped forward, managing several more paces.

Then the door burst open, and two men in bright white scrubs entered, flanked by several Peacekeepers. One of the men, clearly younger, had short brown hair and a nervous expression. A name badge that hung around his neck was embossed with the inscription: ‘Dr. Calyx’. The older man, with graying hair and a large metallic glittering stethoscope tucked around his neck, stepped closer with his hands in his pockets. His name tag read ‘Dr. Savi’

The female Peacekeeper with large brown eyes, still sporting a brown handprint on her arm, was among the group. She studied Hazel, and that same flicker of pity crossed her features. Hazel tore her eyes away.

“What are you doing out of bed, young lady?” Dr. Savi asked, stepping closer. He scanned the insistently beeping machines and Hazel’s unsteady figure.

“I want to speak with Senator Snow or Dr. Gaul immediately.” Hazel insisted, stepping closer to the doctor.

“We will relay your message, but please lay back down.” Dr. Savi studied her face, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The heat of anger bloomed within her chest. Hazel ignored him, grunting as she strode forward. “I can relay it myself.”

The Peacekeepers moved closer, hands on their weapons.

“Miss Marlowe, you need to calm down.” Dr. Savi raised a weathered hand, his features crinkling into a well-practiced expression of authority. “Or we will have to sedate you.”

“Hazel, please…” Indira begged behind her.

Hazel pushed toward them again, but the Peacekeepers stepped forward, each grabbing one of her arms. She thrashed against their hold.

“Easy with her, she’s been through enough.” Indira reprimanded.

“Let me go!” Hazel squirmed, but the motion aggravated her injuries, and she couldn’t hold back a moan of discomfort.

“Please, we don’t want to hurt you,” the female Peacekeeper whispered gently near her ear. Hazel ignored her plea and her own pain as she continued her efforts. Dr. Savi tilted his head as he observed. He let out a soft sigh as he nodded to his assistant, and Hazel caught the flash of a syringe. No.

“Don’t,” Hazel yelped. She lurched backward, but the Peacekeepers held her. Her strength was fading as she yanked on her arms to no avail. Her gown’s sleeve was tugged up, and the bite of a needle sunk into her skin.

Hazel’s world immediately melted, and her body felt like it had no bones or muscles. Dr. Savi murmured, “Relax. It is for your own safety,” as her world slipped into darkness once again.

When Hazel awoke this time, there was no warm caress and no Indira. The room was cool, dark, and devoid of anyone. The light outside the windows was gone; a dusky navy tone filled the sky. Streetlights flickered to life like fireflies. How much time had passed?

All the monitors and tubes had been reattached. Her muscles ached, and a new soreness throbbed in her arm. She attempted to stretch, but her right arm wouldn’t budge. Something was holding it down. The familiar coolness of a handcuff licked her skin. Her hand was secured to the bed frame. She tugged harder, but the handcuff merely clanked and echoed.

She squirmed to pull herself upright. Her hair fell over her face, and her body screamed at her to rest. Staring back down at her bound hand, she stretched out her fingers. A prickling sensation wormed up her neck, raising the hair on her skin. She detected the soft sound of breathing.

“I don’t think a reprisal of your dislocating act is wise.” A voice commented lowly.

Hazel jumped as much as she could, considering she was shackled to a hospital bed. Her eyes widened, and cold sweat formed along her temple as she searched the darkness.

A tall figure sat along the far wall, shadows obscuring their face.

Hazel’s heart leaped, and she tugged on her cuffed hand, but the metal merely bit into her skin. She raked her hair out of her face as she tried to mask her trembling fingers.

“I heard you wanted to speak to me?”