Logan felt himself being lifted up, and placed in a stretcher. Bright lights flooded Logan's vision, and he briefly saw men and woman in scrubs and gloves. His consciousness blinked in and out. Suddenly, it felt like his insides were on fire, as electricity arced through his body. A regular interval between each shock was being taken, but it was no use.

"He won't make it!" a garbled voice said.

He tried to lean toward the person, but he was quickly restrained. His ribs were burning, and his cuts started to sting as they cleaned them.

"Give him the prototype." an authoritative, yet easygoing voice ordered.

"Are you sure? It's our only vial!" the first voice protested.

Logan slipped out of consciousness again, and Athena bit back a string of choice words. Wynter was going to kill her if she let a tribute die prematurely, but that was their only batch. They wouldn't have the materials to make more.

"If you give that to him, we won't be able to let him out of the arena. He'll be too valuable." the nurse tried to reason.

Athena stared at the boy. Was he really worth it? Suddenly, a vision of the last person to defy Wynter came to her mind. It turned her stomach, and she decided her answer.

"Give him the super serum."

...

Logan woke up, and rubbed his eyes. He let out a yawn, and looked at the familiar setting of his room. The action posters, and the lamp on his nightstand were all so familiar, yet foreign to him at the same time. His room hadn't been like this for a long time.

A delicious aroma wafted upstairs, and made his mouth water. He felt energized from a nice bit of sleep. He tossed the blanket off of his body, and started to walk out of bed. A slight warning flew through his mind, but the tranquility of the place replaced it.

"Logan, honey, come downstairs!" a voice interrupted his thoughts.

No. He knew that voice. It could not be that voice. He practically flew down the stairs, and tears started to well up in his eyes. Everything around him started to fade into the background, the sense of peace gone.

"Mom." he said, staring at the woman, choking up.

She busily put on some gloves and took a tray out of the oven, like nothing was wrong. Like she wasn't supposed to be dead.

"Help me finish this batch of chocolate chip cookies before dad comes home. I know we're supposed to be dieting, but I had the biggest sugar craving." she joked, plucking a cookie off the tray.

Logan looked around at the house. This had to be some sort of trap, some sort of Capitol game. He looked around, family pictures hanging around. He took one in his hands, and stared at the picture. The people in it seemed to be almost unreal. He was in the picture, along with his mom and dad, and a small little girl.

"Mom, who's this?" he said, pointing to the small girl.

A look of confusion was evident on her face.

"That's Jenny, your little sister. Are you feeling alright?" she asked, putting her hand on his forehead.

He wilted away from her touch, and clutched his head. What was happening? He slapped on his coat, and started to run. He bumped into people in the busy sidewalks, and then ran into the street. A car zoomed straight at him, showing no sign of slowing down. Just as it was about to hit him, he woke up.

He was sweating profusely, and breathing heavily. Something was different. His wheelchair wasn't there, and this room was dark and damp. He tried to inch out of the bed, using his arm to push himself, until he felt an unfamiliar sensation.

He could feel his legs.

He sprung up, and instantly started to shout. He twisted the doorknob, and it automatically came off. He smashed into the door, breaking it. He started to run at full speed, faster than he could before.

He bumped into a nurse, who looked surprised to see him. The nurse automatically unclipped the walkie on his belt, and started to yell into it.

"He's escaping!"

He rounded the corner, and saw a group of doctors and nurses. He skidded to a stop, as they all stared at him. One pulled out a tranq gun, and aimed it at him. Logan rounded the corridor, the maze confusing him more and more. He hit a dead end, and turned around. A small dart pierced his bicep, and he pulled it out.

Immediately, he started to feel sluggish, his thoughts slow.

"That's right. Fall asleep, little boy. You'll need it for the games." the nurse's voice soothed him.

...

Anyway, thanks to all of my loyal readers for being along with this journey! I've been on a long break, but your constant support has really helped. 

Publishing First Day of the Games soon!