Temporary Forevers

My deep green eyes flicked open but without a second thought, they squinted due to the intensity of bright white lights that surrounded me. Confusion set in and my chest tightened as I squirmed, but panic took control of my senses when I couldn't move my arms. Black straps were fastened, almost too tightly, around my wrists and forearms to be certain that I would be unable to move. My wide, fear filled eyes darted across the room in a frenzy and as I began to recognize the familiar bland walls, a feeling of relief washed over me. Taking a deep, shaky breath, I let my head fall back onto the flat pillow and my muscles released. It wasn't unusual to lose track of reality, especially when I was trapped in this room. On occasion, even my own identity seemed to slip away from my mind.

But unfortunately, it always came back to me and crushed me like a bulldozer, leaving me shattered in a million pieces. I was Jade Perthshire. District One was my home. I trained for years to be a ruthless murderer. My name was plucked from the large glass bowl at the Reaping and I became the victor of the 68th Hunger Games. I forced myself to repeat these simple statements aloud at least once a day. They said it would help to move on and return to my old self. I knew that could never happen though. I was ruined and it was their fault. Memories flooded my vision, as they so often did, and the real world blurred and then vanished. There was no use to fight the terrors away. I'd realized already that struggling doesn't succeed to banish the sights of bloodshed from my brain. In fact, it usually only made them worse and they felt so painfully real. There were still freshly open wounds that had a never ending throbbing ache, reminding me over and over of the savage I had been forced to become.

I entertained the idea of thrashing about, screaming for help until my lungs held no more fight. They were observing my every move; they always were. Although the cameras were far too minuscule to spot with a naked eye, I was well aware that they were indeed there, somewhere. Maybe if they noticed that I was in distress, a nurse, accompanied by a Peacekeeper of course, would arrive with a syringe filled to the brim with morphling. Then the pain would go away.

The door did open, catching me off guard as I now had a distraction from the horrors that lived in my head. I flinched at the barely audible click of the closing door. The sound resembled same of bones cracking in half. That was a noise I would never erase from my memory. There weren't enough drugs in Panem to chase these awful hauntings away forever. They would always come back. Or at least it seemed that way now.

What would my eldest brother have to say if he saw me now? So brittle and broken. Surely they were celebrating in District One, ecstatic for my arrival, their brand new victor. Both Sterling and Jasper would be growing very impatient by now. It must have been weeks since the hovercraft lifted my blood caked body from the arena. Maybe even longer. I wondered what sort of story they created to tell my family to cover up my absence. The Capitol would never admit to the pain and suffering a victor experienced when transitioning back into the real world. That would just make the Games seem even more barbaric than they already did. The residents of the Capitol couldn't bare to know their beloved victors were actually broken, haunted children.

"Today may be the very last day I'll see you, Jade," he smiled, sitting down in the metal chair a yard or so away from the foot of my bed. I didn't speak, as I normally didn't. This never seemed to phase him. I figured he just enjoyed talking so much that it didn't matter anyway.

Dr. Maywell was what I considered to be normal compared to the rest of the Capitol citizens. His skin was absent of any abnormal colored dye and there was no tattoos or eccentric make up painted on his large features. The only thing that proved him to be from the Capitol was his powder blue hair, which matched the shirt under his white coat perfectly. I found myself wondering if that was intentional or merely a convenient coincidence. He was an older man, though it was difficult to tell someone's age here, what with all the enhancements that were available.

"I think you've been doing a lot better," he commented, flipping through pages on his clipboard. He then looked up at me and showed me his dazzling smile. "They want to begin the victory tour next week. If I give the clear, of course."

I was secretly partial to Dr. Maywell. Unlike so many of the people I had been introduced to since the Reaping, he had seemingly good intentions. Dare I say, perhaps he even cared for my well being. I attempted to crack a smile for his sake and nodded.

"Are you still experiencing the nightmares?" He asked, lowering his glasses on his nose. I'd thought of questioning his need for the corrective lenses when he lived in such a place that his colleagues could so effortlessly sharpen his eyesight to unnatural levels. The thick rimmed glasses were probably just for show, I concluded.

Of course I was still having nightmares. It'd only been a few days since we last met and he'd asked me the same question. And once again, I would give him the same answer. Shrugging my shoulders to the best of my ability, my hollow eyes dropped to my lap.

"They aren't as bad as they used to be," I lied easily, my voice hoarse and so unlike my once chipper tone. The Games had destroyed everything I used to be.

He nodded and I wondered whether he truly believed my words. The psychiatrist stood from his chair, nearing the edge of my bed. I cowered instantly, sinking into the hospital issued mattress. I was defenseless with my limbs restrained. A sitting duck. Noticing my shrunken state, he moved slower, flashing me a reassuring smile. The impossibly white teeth were enough to blind me, but I took a deep inhale of the stuffy air to calm myself. Acting like a wounded animal certainly wouldn't aid in getting me out of this room. I forced myself to put up a facade, one that I would be projecting for quite some time.

My heart raced inside my chest, viciously thumping against my rib cage as his cold fingers brushed against the faintly bruised skin of my wrist. When the thick black belt loosened, I looked up curiously. Surely they weren't considering letting me free with no Peacekeeper to protect Dr. Maywell if I had a psychotic break.

"The victory tour won't be easy, Jade," he started in a soft voice, as if he didn't want whoever was watching to hear. My left arm was free. I stretched the muscles and they ached. It must have been weeks since they had any mobility. As my eyes followed him closely, he moved to the other side of the bed and began to undo the belts of my right arm. "You'll see their faces, their families, their homes. But you need to stay strong. You did what you had to do to survive."

I winced noticeably, suddenly not caring about my lack of restraints. The faces of the tributes I had slain flashed through my mind, their eyes dead, open wide and unmoving. Their bodies bloodied, damaged and motionless. I'd taken the light from their eyes. How could I ever face their families?

Hardly paying attention as the doctor released my legs from their hold, I shook the thought and pushed it far away. I would deal with that when the time came.

"Someone will be in to escort you to your stylist soon, Jade. Take care of yourself. It truly was a treat to work with you."

My eyes snapped to him. His brilliant honey colored orbs smiled down at me. He reminded me so much of my late grandfather. So soft, gentle and caring. Without thinking, I sat up and wrapped my arms around his neck. Dr. Maywell was startled at first. He probably thought I had returned to the beast I was just a few weeks ago and was attempting to crush his windpipe.

Though he didn't return the embrace, I let go after a few moments and smiled up at him. It was the first real smile I'd been able to deliver since I was pulled out of the arena.

"Thank you, sir. For everything."

He didn't reply. Instead he only nodded, and sent me one last look that was meant to comfort and reassure me before he slid out the door.

I sighed and inspected the IV that was still pricked into my skin. I guess I'm going to be facing the loved ones of those that I had brutally killed sooner than I thought.