suzanna-kollinz-acliq-oyunlari-1-hisse-eng

I enter a nightmare from which I wake repeatedly only to
find a greater terror awaiting me. All the things I dread most,
all the things I dread for others manifest in such vivid detail I
can’t help but believe they’re real. Each time I wake, I think, At
last, this is over, but it isn’t. It’s only the beginning of a new
chapter of torture. How many ways do I watch Prim die? Relive
my father’s last moments? Feel my own body ripped
apart? This is the nature of the tracker jacker venom, so carefully
created to target the place where fear lives in your brain.
When I finally do come to my senses, I lie still, waiting for
the next onslaught of imagery. But eventually I accept that the
poison must have finally worked its way out of my system,
leaving my body wracked and feeble. I’m still lying on my side,
locked in the fetal position. I lift a hand to my eyes to find
them sound, untouched by ants that never existed. Simply
stretching out my limbs requires an enormous effort. So many
parts of me hurt, it doesn’t seem worthwhile taking inventory
of them. Very, very slowly I manage to sit up. I’m in a shallow
hole, not filled with the humming orange bubbles of my hallucination
but with old, dead leaves. My clothing’s damp, but I
don’t know whether pond water, dew, rain, or sweat is the
cause. For a long time, all I can do is take tiny sips from my
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