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

uffle the hair by my left ear. No, it wasn’t an illusion. I can
hear again.
I try and sit up, but some sort of wide restraining band
around my waist keeps me from rising more than a few inches.
The physical confinement makes me panic and I’m trying
to pull myself up and wriggle my hips through the band when
a portion of the wall slides open and in steps the redheaded
Avox girl carrying a tray. The sight of her calms me and I stop
trying to escape. I want to ask her a million questions, but I’m
afraid any familiarity would cause her harm. Obviously I am
being closely monitored. She sets the tray across my thighs
and presses something that raises me to a sitting position.
While she adjusts my pillows, I risk one question. I say it out
loud, as clearly as my rusty voice will allow, so nothing will
seem secretive. “Did Peeta make it?” She gives me a nod, and
as she slips a spoon into my hand, I feel the pressure of friendship.
I guess she did not wish me dead after all. And Peeta has
made it. Of course, he did. With all their expensive equipment
here. Still, I hadn’t been sure until now.
As the Avox leaves, the door closes noiselessly after her and
I turn hungrily to the tray. A bowl of clear broth, a small serving
of applesauce, and a glass of water. This is it? I think grouchily.
Shouldn’t my homecoming dinner be a little more spectacular?
But I find it’s an effort to finish the spare meal before
me. My stomach seems to have shrunk to the size of a chestnut,
and I have to wonder how long I’ve been out because I
had no trouble eating a fairly sizable breakfast that last morn-
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