Everything went by in a blur. One moment you and Coriolanus were speaking with your tributes about the arena, the next you were on the floor, crushed under the weight of a massive brick, a pipe jammed through your left leg.

Now you were in the best hospital in the Capitol, Coriolanus ever-present by your side, his hand in your own as he fights the urge to drift to sleep.

“If you can hear me, I… I’m so sorry.”

He whispers.