The room in the medical center was very... white. It was thankfully easy on my head, with no patterns or bright colors or anything to strain my eyes. Very crisp. Very clean. Very un-personal. Very District 5.
I sighed, rubbing at my head, which still throbbed. I couldn't remember anything after Phil had left, past being jammed with needles and then put under, where I had a long sleep filled with flames and images of previous Games, and the faces of previous District 5 tributes, and bits and pieces of the explosion at the plant. I swallowed hard and did a mental scan of my body. My head still throbbed, but the rest of me was exhausted and numb. Whatever meds they had given me must've kicked in and done their job. I pushed back the covers, looking down my bare arms. Most of the white dust from the debris had been cleaned off, but it was obvious I was still in need of a shower. My skin looked raw and dry, peeling around my fingers and palms and elbows. I decided I didn't want to look at the rest of me, and was thankful for the drugs keeping me from feeling whatever injuries I had.
After a moment, making sure I wasn't too light headed, I sat up, groping for the cup of some liquid at the table beside me. I pushed the button near by, signaling to the nurses or whoever monitored these things that I was awake, before sipping down the tasteless liquid.
I stared at the blank wall, as there were no windows in the room, and tried not to think of where my father was (or wasn't) and the Reapings. I didn't know what time it was, but I knew I had to be up and out of here soon, else Peacekeepers would drag me out. Had I not been of eligible age, they'd probably just let me watch it in the meeting hall of the Medical Center with the other patients too sick to move, but I had to be in the town square in case my name was called.
I grabbed for the bowl on the table and leaned over it, heaving up only liquid. My stomach churned and growled at the same time, and I groaned. I took a shaky breath, head thudding and eyes burning as held back tears started.
The door opened and I quickly swallowed back my sobs and took control of my emotions as a woman in medical uniform came it, not bothering to look at me as she replaced the bowl and cup, filled the latter with a darker liquid, and set down a smaller cup of what smelled like mouth wash on the table.
"The Reapings will begin soon," She said without emotion, looking at me for the first time. She glanced down at a clip board in her arms, "You are to attend in the square with the other eligibles." She put down a small bag at the foot of my bed. "Your condition is stable enough that you may continue healing at home," In other words you don't want me to waste space, I thought bitterly. "Everything the Medical Center deems necessary is in the bag, instructions included." I nodded automatically and she moved to leave.
"Wait, was a Lewis Radialle checked in?" I croaked, my throat still a bit sore. The medic glanced down at her clip board, then back up to me.
"I do not know, but I am not in charge of the list of patients."
"Well can you find out?" I growled, trying to keep my anger and worry in check.
She simply stared at me, an expression I couldn't read coating her face: completely professional. "You should get ready for the Reapings." With that, she was gone.
