why do they stay to watch?
and now i know. it’s because you have no choice.
i startle when i catch someone staring at me from only a
few inches away and then realize it’s my own face reflecting
back in the glass. wild eyes, hollow cheeks, my hair in a tan-
gled mat. rabid. feral. mad. no wonder everyone is keeping a
safe distance from me.
the next thing i know we’ve landed back on the roof of the
training center and they’re taking peeta but leaving me be-
hind the door. i start hurling myself against the glass, shriek-
ing and i think i just catch a glimpse of pink hair — it must be
effie, it has to be effie coming to my rescue — when the
needle jabs me from behind.
when i wake, i’m afraid to move at first. the entire ceiling
glows with a soft yellow light allowing me to see that i’m in a
room containing just my bed. no doors, no windows are visi-
ble. the air smells of something sharp and antiseptic. my right
arm has several tubes that extend into the wall behind me. i’m
naked, but the bedclothes arc soothing against my skin. i ten-
tatively lift my left hand above the cover. not only has it been
scrubbed clean, the nails are filed in perfect ovals, the scars
from the burns are less prominent. i touch my cheek, my lips,
the puckered scar above my eyebrow, and am just running my
fingers through my silken hair when i freeze. apprehensively i
342
ruffle 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 inch-
es. 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 friend-
ship.
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 serv-
ing of applesauce, and a glass of water. this is it? i think grou-
chily. shouldn’t my homecoming dinner be a little more spec-
tacular? 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 chest-
nut, and i have to wonder how long i’ve been out because i
had no trouble eating a fairly sizable breakfast that last morn-
343
ing in the arena. there’s usually a lag of a few days between
the end of the competition and the presentation of the victor
so that they can put the starving, wounded, mess of a person
back together again. somewhere, cinna and portia will be
creating our wardrobes for the public appearances. haymitch
and effie will be arranging the banquet for our sponsors, re-
viewing the questions for our final interviews. back home,
district 12 is probably in chaos as they try and organize the
homecoming celebrations for peeta and me, given that the last
one was close to thirty years ago.
home!
本文链接:
http://m.picdg.com/33_33872/5086232.html