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

My slumbers are filled with disturbing dreams. The face of
the redheaded girl intertwines with gory images from earlier
Hunger Games, with my mother withdrawn and unreachable,
with Prim emaciated and terrified. I bolt up screaming for my
father to run as the mine explodes into a million deadly bits of
light.
Dawn is breaking through the windows. The Capitol has a
misty, haunted air. My head aches and I must have bitten into
the side of my cheek in the night. My tongue probes the
ragged flesh and I taste blood.
Slowly, I drag myself out of bed and into the shower. I arbitrarily
punch buttons on the control board and end up hopping
from foot to foot as alternating jets of icy cold and steaming
hot water assault me. Then I’m deluged in lemony foam
that I have to scrape off with a heavy bristled brush. Oh, well.
At least my blood is flowing.
When I’m dried and moisturized with lotion, I find an outfit
has been left for me at the front of the closet. Tight black
pants, a long-sleeved burgundy tunic, and leather shoes. I put
my hair in the single braid down my back. This is the first time
since the morning of the reaping that I resemble myself. No
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