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The weather hasn't really grown any warmer, but Prim can't stand the idea of staying cooped up any longer. She's still supposed to be resting; for as many strange things that happen in Darrow, they don't have a bead on faces disappearing. Prim figures that she'll be fine. After all, she survived dying.

It wasn't anything like dying, anyway.

When she'd died, there had been flight and peace. When her face had been stolen, there had been darkness and silence.

She's so glad to be awake again.

Sitting on the fence at the edge of the land on which their house sits, Prim watches a rabbit seek out a bit of bare earth where the snow has melted away. The wind is changing; she thinks it might rain or snow. At the sound of footsteps behind her, Prim turns, a greeting on her lips.

Prim stands outside the door to Hanna's apartment, smoothing out her skirt. While she knows that Hanna would never turn her away, Prim has a hard time shaking the shyness of her childhood. As usual, she takes a deep breath and knocks. Some of the butterflies in her stomach, she knows, are just a side-effect of seeing her friend-- a happy kind of nervous, really.

There's a small, carefully wrapped box in her messenger bag that she hasn't given to Hanna yet. It had taken her a while to find exactly what she wanted to give Hanna, and then a little longer to have it put on a proper chain.

Shifting the bag on her shoulder, she waits for the door to open.

She wakes up in the dark, her whole body on fire, her throat clogged up with smoke and ash.

It's a struggle to breathe, even after she remembers that there's no smoke, that she's not burning. She takes several minutes to even her breathing out, and several more to fall back asleep.

The rest of the night, she dreams about a white and black bird that crows over and over, dead girl, dead girl!

Prim goes out to the fields that morning, meaning to do something, some work, but she finds herself on top of a gentle slope, hugging her knees as she watches the sea of grass. The dream won't shake from her mind, not even with Brier gently butting his head against her arm.

How much longer can she keep this secret? Katniss should never have to know.

No one ever has to know.

She rests her chin on her knees.

Prim is behind some kind of glass wall right now, and she hasn't changed out of her dress like the doctors want. Instead, she's using the phone to call Katniss. Her hands are shaking, and not just because she's alone in the big white room right now.

At any other time, she would have called Katniss right away. She would have shouted for her to join them on their way, or she would have sprinted up to the house first. Maybe it's what she should have done anyway.

The way Prim sees it, though, Russell wouldn't have trusted her enough to come in if she spoke to Katniss first. He might have hurt them both. He might have tired, only to have Katniss kill him. Prim's pretty sure that people who kill other people go to jail here.

She won't let that happen to Katniss.

The voicemail picks up, and Prim is eternally grateful.

"Katniss? It's me. I'm at the hospital. I'm okay. I'm not hurt. But I brought Russell down here, he's the policeman, remember him? I brought him down here because he's really sick. The doctors want me to stay for a while so they can make sure I'm okay to leave."

Her breath quavers a little.

"Please come down here when you get this message. Don't bring your bow, okay? I'm okay. I'm going to be okay."

Prim wraps the cord around her fingers.

"I love you, Katniss. Get here soon."

Truthfully, Prim is still a little frightened of the hospital. A pink line on her left arm serves as a reminder of her close call with the terrible nurses. She hasn't told anyone she's going here by herself today, not directly.

She knows she needs to do it herself. Katniss can't walk with her everywhere, and besides, the possible bow and arrow threats aren't going to get Prim what she wants here.

"Hi," she says, stopping at the very first front desk. There's a nice woman working there with dark hair and a round face. Prim tells the woman who she's here to see, and it's easy, from there, to follow the signs and maps until she's in the right place.

Prim takes a deep breath. She's taken pains with her appearance today. Her hair is braided and wound around her head, and she's wearing a white sundress and blue jacket. She dabs a tiny bit of stolen lip gloss on her mouth, and knocks on the closed door as it stands in front of her.

"Hello?" she calls. "Doctor McCoy?"

Her heart pounds in her ribcage.

[inbox for prim@dmail.com]

"Hello, this is Primrose Everdeen. You can leave me a message at the beep!"

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Primrose Everdeen

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[Hanna]

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was that the wrong pill to take?

{a visit to the hospital} McCoy

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February 2014

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