It's been hours now and I'm still no closer to figuring out what this place is or why I'm here. I don't like it, I know that much. Even if I am just high on morphling and this is all in my head, I don't like it.
And not just because I'm walking barefoot down a vacant street in a hospital gown, dragging a fucking drip pole behind me.
Everything about this place is off. The fact that I can actually see the sky and breathe fresh air means it isn't District 13. And it's not home. Which means it's probably a Capitol trick. Not another Game though - that wouldn't make sense.
But they're definitely up to something.
I've already met a few people here, but I haven't seen anyone since I left the train station. I got some kind of packet on the platform, an envelope with my name on it containing a map, a phone, keys and a piece of paper with an address on it. I guess it's supposed to be my own house or something, but damned if I'm going there armed only with a metal pole and a bag of morphling.
The pole does do a good job of shattering glass, though, which comes in useful. The store is clearly closed, nothing but darkness inside despite it being early afternoon. I end up cutting the inside of my forearm as I fumble at the lock and tip-toeing through the shards of glass scattered at my feet is a serious pain in the ass, but it's worth it when I see the racks and racks of clothing sprawled before me. According to the sign hanging from the ceiling a few yards away, I should be able to find food, too.
For the first time since I got here, I actually smile.
And then I start hunting.
And not just because I'm walking barefoot down a vacant street in a hospital gown, dragging a fucking drip pole behind me.
Everything about this place is off. The fact that I can actually see the sky and breathe fresh air means it isn't District 13. And it's not home. Which means it's probably a Capitol trick. Not another Game though - that wouldn't make sense.
But they're definitely up to something.
I've already met a few people here, but I haven't seen anyone since I left the train station. I got some kind of packet on the platform, an envelope with my name on it containing a map, a phone, keys and a piece of paper with an address on it. I guess it's supposed to be my own house or something, but damned if I'm going there armed only with a metal pole and a bag of morphling.
The pole does do a good job of shattering glass, though, which comes in useful. The store is clearly closed, nothing but darkness inside despite it being early afternoon. I end up cutting the inside of my forearm as I fumble at the lock and tip-toeing through the shards of glass scattered at my feet is a serious pain in the ass, but it's worth it when I see the racks and racks of clothing sprawled before me. According to the sign hanging from the ceiling a few yards away, I should be able to find food, too.
For the first time since I got here, I actually smile.
And then I start hunting.
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