Голодные игры/The Hunger Games (Сюзанна Коллинз). Страница 50 из 236

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She

avoids

my

eyes

,

gives

a

small

nod

,

and

heads

out

the

door

.

I

'd

set

out

to

tell

her

I

was

sorry

about

dinner

.

But

I

know

that

my

apology

runs

much

deeper

.

That

I

'm

ashamed

I

never

tried

to

help

her

in

the

woods

.

That

I

let

the

Capitol

kill

the

boy

and

mutilate

her

without

lifting

a

finger

.

Just

like

I

was

watching

the

Games

.

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I

kick

off

my

shoes

and

climb

under

the

covers

in

my

clothes

.

The

shivering

has

n't

stopped

.

Perhaps

the

girl

does

n't

even

remember

me

.

But

I

know

she

does

.

You

do

n't

forget

the

face

of

the

person

who

was

your

last

hope

.

I

pull

the

covers

up

over

my

head

as

if

this

will

protect

me

from

the

redheaded

girl

who

ca

n't

speak

But

I

can

feel

her

eyes

staring

at

me

,

piercing

through

walls

and

doors

and

bedding

.

I

wonder

if

she

'll

enjoy

watching

me

die

.

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withdrawn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

.

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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

fancy

hair

and

clothes

,

no

flaming

capes

.

Just

me

.

Looking

like

I

could

be

headed

for

the

woods

.

It

calms

me

.

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