Status: I'll be posting a new chapter hopefully every day!
Mockingjay Alternate Ending
Preparation
The next week goes by too slowly. Mostly I sleep, because I didn’t do much of that while on the run. Periodically, I wake up and find the doctors hard at work on my body, fixing me, but I find myself fast asleep seconds later with new drugs coursing through my veins.
Finally, eight days after the visit from Gale, I wake up to find no doctors hovering over me, no one sitting in the chair beside my bed, waiting to feed me. Instead, I see a plate of food that has probably been there for hours, but it looks strikingly appetizing. I am completely alone. I feel strong, and much more intact than even before I was on fire. My eyes scan my body, beginning at my hands, which are now patched up with fresh, flawless skin. I notice the odd scar on my leg, my belly, my finger. I realize that some of the skin I see is mine, but most of it is not. I wish they had consulted me before all of this repairing; I don’t mind scars at all, in fact. They show what I’ve been through. I wonder what they did with Prim, if they covered her in new skin like me.
I sit up and realize that, despite the looks of it, my skin is quite tender. Even the soft sheets feel like a rough, heavy blanket. I suspect they want to keep me here for longer than was planned, but I will do anything to get out of here and spend some time with Prim. Not to mention Snow’s execution. My hands are itching for my bow, my heart yearning for the demise of Snow. I can’t wait to see the look on his face when I am in charge of his life. It will be priceless.
Against my wishes, I spend a few more days in the hospital as my skin heals. I am not told anything about Prim or Peeta, but my mother arrives with good news about District 12. Apparently, there was another group of survivors, who had found their way to Victor’s Village before being harmed too badly. Unfortunately, they lost a fair amount of people on the trip they took, by foot, to the Capitol. In the surviving group were Madge and her family, as well as many lucky others. They arrived with the intent to start a revolution against the Capitol, oblivious to the past few weeks’ events. Many of the men were sent immediately to other districts to help clean up, and the rest are enjoying the luxury of the Capitol. According to my mother, Madge has come to visit me a few times, though I’ve been sound asleep or too high on morphling every time.
After my mother’s visit, Haymitch comes in to my room, surprisingly sober, with clean clothes for me and a look of business on his face.
“Hello, sweetheart, how are you doing?” he says warmly, but he doesn’t give me time to answer. He holds out the clothes for me to take. “Put these on, and come with me. We have a long day ahead of us.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, confused. I haven’t had a “long day” in what seems like forever, and I have become accustomed to sleeping all day and night.
“The execution, of course! Your prep team is waiting for you, and they’re getting quite impatient, to say the least. Hurry, please.”
I look at him pointedly, but he doesn’t seem to get the hint that I would like some privacy. I awkwardly turn around and change into the clean clothes, and we’re off. I’ve never much liked being primped, so I decide to do what I’ve done ever other time my prep team has attempted to polish me; zone out and let them do their work.
When I arrive in the prepping room, I am greeted by very excited and tearful Octavia and Venia. Flavius stands behind them, with a small smile on his lips. But there’s someone else, standing off to the side with his back turned. I instantly recognize the close-cropped dark brown hair, and when he turns around, his gold eyeliner brings out the gold flecks in his green eyes stunningly.
Cinna.
Finally, eight days after the visit from Gale, I wake up to find no doctors hovering over me, no one sitting in the chair beside my bed, waiting to feed me. Instead, I see a plate of food that has probably been there for hours, but it looks strikingly appetizing. I am completely alone. I feel strong, and much more intact than even before I was on fire. My eyes scan my body, beginning at my hands, which are now patched up with fresh, flawless skin. I notice the odd scar on my leg, my belly, my finger. I realize that some of the skin I see is mine, but most of it is not. I wish they had consulted me before all of this repairing; I don’t mind scars at all, in fact. They show what I’ve been through. I wonder what they did with Prim, if they covered her in new skin like me.
I sit up and realize that, despite the looks of it, my skin is quite tender. Even the soft sheets feel like a rough, heavy blanket. I suspect they want to keep me here for longer than was planned, but I will do anything to get out of here and spend some time with Prim. Not to mention Snow’s execution. My hands are itching for my bow, my heart yearning for the demise of Snow. I can’t wait to see the look on his face when I am in charge of his life. It will be priceless.
Against my wishes, I spend a few more days in the hospital as my skin heals. I am not told anything about Prim or Peeta, but my mother arrives with good news about District 12. Apparently, there was another group of survivors, who had found their way to Victor’s Village before being harmed too badly. Unfortunately, they lost a fair amount of people on the trip they took, by foot, to the Capitol. In the surviving group were Madge and her family, as well as many lucky others. They arrived with the intent to start a revolution against the Capitol, oblivious to the past few weeks’ events. Many of the men were sent immediately to other districts to help clean up, and the rest are enjoying the luxury of the Capitol. According to my mother, Madge has come to visit me a few times, though I’ve been sound asleep or too high on morphling every time.
After my mother’s visit, Haymitch comes in to my room, surprisingly sober, with clean clothes for me and a look of business on his face.
“Hello, sweetheart, how are you doing?” he says warmly, but he doesn’t give me time to answer. He holds out the clothes for me to take. “Put these on, and come with me. We have a long day ahead of us.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, confused. I haven’t had a “long day” in what seems like forever, and I have become accustomed to sleeping all day and night.
“The execution, of course! Your prep team is waiting for you, and they’re getting quite impatient, to say the least. Hurry, please.”
I look at him pointedly, but he doesn’t seem to get the hint that I would like some privacy. I awkwardly turn around and change into the clean clothes, and we’re off. I’ve never much liked being primped, so I decide to do what I’ve done ever other time my prep team has attempted to polish me; zone out and let them do their work.
When I arrive in the prepping room, I am greeted by very excited and tearful Octavia and Venia. Flavius stands behind them, with a small smile on his lips. But there’s someone else, standing off to the side with his back turned. I instantly recognize the close-cropped dark brown hair, and when he turns around, his gold eyeliner brings out the gold flecks in his green eyes stunningly.
Cinna.