Reach Out and Touch Faith (D2 Train Thread)

My head, for whatever reason, thought that this day, in particular, should start with the worst hangover I have and most likely will ever experience. The one time it remembers that I have something important to do, it decides to make it unbearable. And, to make things worse, my hand's still messed up. Why? I wish I could remember. I could probably have made assumptions based on what was in front of me when I woke up this morning, but I would rather not.

Now I'm on a train with a brain trying to escape my cranium, eyes that can't process light to save themselves, and a hand wrapped in a rose-tinted cloth. My mom's going to kill me if she ever found out that I used one of her nice white napkins as a bandage. Though, that's assuming that I ever come back. The Capitol... shit. Would living there all by myself be a good idea? No
money, no friends, no home, a bunch of high-strung Capitolites who would love to see a victor like me... I mean that sounds better than dealing with my mom's reaction.

Without getting off the couch-for-one, I wave down an avox and ask them if they can find me some sunglasses before we head on out. Even if I wasn't in extreme I don't think I would have been able to get out of this venus fly trap of a chair. The cushioning sucks you in and refuses to let you go, and you don't realize it until it's too late. Though, for me, sitting down was 'too late' for me, regardless of which chair I chose. At least it's comfortable. Or I'm too tired to care.

I must have missed the sound of the door the first few times somehow, but this time the sound wanted to be heard. Oh ripred, I should have asked for some painkillers as well. These better be some goddamn good sunglasses. The Avox hands me a pair and I put them on. "Thank you" I mouth to them and put them on. To my surprise, the glasses did their job. Of blocking out some of the sun. Looking around still hurt, and sitting in a chair where the window gave a natural spotlight didn't help. Maybe I should move. No, no, you're fine. Don't be such a bitch. You can survive a little longer.

Glancing out the window, I catch a glimpse of the train starting to move forward. We're now just leaving? Fucking shit. Goddamnit. The deep urge to cry in frustration comes out of nowhere. Why did I do this? How am I supposed to help these little shits if I can't even help myself? "Fuck!" That word almost made me lose my breakfast. Or whatever my last 'meal' was. Shit, just take it easy. Don't be too harsh on yourself, or on them for that matter. They didn't get reaped. They didn't volunteer. Shut the fuck up! This is District 2. They're probably happy to be here. Yeah, but were you? Touche, brain. Touche.

My eyes close for a few seconds and for those few seconds, I get a moment of peace through the pain. It was all ruined by the sound of the door to the carriage opening followed by footsteps. I hope my breath didn't smell too bad, because my sigh could have had enough oxygen to fill an entire party's worth of balloons. The unknown entities don't get the pleasure of my glance before I ask, "What do you all want?"