Faux & Glamour {awake and alive}

Light as a feather his body floats through the sky without a care in the world until someone turns out the lights. Faux heard stories that death was simply falling asleep forever, but is that truly the case? The poor souls of Eleven never face a peaceful death. It's always starvation or dehydration or some other sickness that sweeps through the houses wiping people out completely.

Nobody can answer the question since only the deceased know.

Don't go towards the light.

He's heard so many times before, but the light is bright, and it's calling for him. Birds greet him with songs of joy. Squirrels of various sizes run up to meet him, and for once Faux finds the happiness he deserves despite leaving his family. It's such a wonderful place. Every door has a place to stay open without worry of a robber bursting in.

Freedom. It's the only word possible to describe it. No more pain. No more sorrow. No more anything. All his needs are met, and soon he'll rejoin with his brothers. Just some careful searching around and he'll find them. It's his goal, and since death knows no time, Faux has all the time in the world. He gained his wings today, and he's ready to have this joy forever.

A genuine smile spreads across his face as the birds draw closer and closer until they're standing right up on him with angry faces and their beaks open wide. What's going on? He wants to ask, but the words catch in the back of his throat.

Hushed whispers echo through his ears mixing with a soft beeping of a machine.

Heavy eyes flicker open for just a moment before closing again.

The whispers grow louder with each passing second, and the beeping becomes more annoying.

What happened to the birds and squirrels? What happened to the freedom Faux reached for? His mind buzzes with questions. He's heavy like a ton of bricks.

Every hair stands on end, his heart races, pounding against his chest wall begging for an escape. His lungs scream for a breath of fresh air.

Within seconds, the squirrels are standing by again.

None of this makes sense. It's like he's living in a nightmare and not being able to wake up from it.

But the world quickly changes as his eyes flicker open once more. Hushed whispers float through his mind as the beeping grows louder and louder. Wires lead from every direction, yet his arm doesn't move. Faux turns, eyes locked on the IV. Fluids run through it, yet he doesn't understand why.

He doesn't need fluids since he's dead.

"Can you hear me?"

For a moment he doesn't move, but he simply nods his head for a second too long forcing his eyes closed again. It's almost like someone is standing inside his skull pounding against the bones with a giant sledgehammer. The bright lights burn his eyes, and yet he's still wondering what's going on.

"Very good. You’ve been unconscious since you fell in the arena. I’m the surgeon who has been overseeing your recovery. You still have a long ways to go. Do you understand? You’re in the Capitol now, and your job is to rest. If you do not cooperate, we will administer more morphling. Nurse?"

What?

I'm...I'm alive?

How can that be? Faux's certain his life ended. The tether holding him to the earth shattered in the blink of an eye. His cannon sound, not that he could hear it anyway.

What's going on?

His throat is dry, and he wants a drink of water. Something to quench the thirst. Something to take it away before it destroys him completely.

The beeping doesn't stop.

A headache doesn't even begin to describe the pain he feels. It's crushing, skull splitting. What's the purpose of keeping him alive? Why not let him have the freedom he desires?

Does Harbinger know?

Can he see this?

Where am I?

Resting sounds good especially after what all he just went through.

It's beyond him how much time has gone by since the doctor gave him the news, but the beeping has finally stopped for now. And he can move his arm freely. This is nothing more than a sick joke, yet it still doesn't make sense. Nothing does anymore. He's living a nightmare, a dream, something. Perhaps he'll wake up back home in his bed.

Or maybe I was in some sort of accident?

But it's something else that catches his attention the moment he rolls over.

A muffled scream slips past his lips - "That...thing..." It's almost like Harbinger climbed in bed with him while he was sleeping. Just like when they were younger. Nightmares tormented Faux, and even now he's living one.

That's not Harbinger.

It can't be.

What is this?

Doesn't matter.

He takes a breath allowing the air to fill his lungs before hoisting himself up on the side of the bed. An empty stomach churns as the walls dance around him. Fingers connect with the side of his head trying to give him the chance to focus. To rewrite the world around him, but the pain is too much. Bare feet touch the ground sending chills up his spine, and he nearly falls to the floor.

Outstretched arms reach for the railing barely snagging himself just in time, yet the throbbing headache becomes worse with every move he makes.

A heavy sigh leaves his chest as he forces himself into a standing position. Heavy legs weigh him down as he tries moving from one side of the room to the other. The bed become a prop allowing him to hold himself up. It's hard to breathe, but he keeps going. One step after another.

He's going to escape. To find a way out. To wake up from the nightmare.

His hopes are crushed as the door turns into another room. Only this time it's bigger and brighter. The only problem lingering ahead is the furniture being so far from the door.

Each breath catches behind the lump forming in his throat as his heart races away.

The floor greets him with a heavy thud. Pain ricochets through his entire body bouncing from one bone to the other. Every beat of his heart echoes through his skull. It's hard to even see. The world is changing. Spots dance before his eyes.

Faux leans against the wall with his eyes closed trying to take it all in.

Because it's not the beginning of the end.

It's just the beginning.