Disclaimer: If I owned the Hunger Games, I would have spent more time on the backstories of our favorite D3 victors :)

A/N: If anyone has heard of Sensory Processing Disorder (Sensory Integration Dysfunction), this could really happen to Wiress if she sustained a brain injury during her Games. Just a little occupational therapy / rehabilitation medicine factoid for you all :)


Chapter 1: Chaotic Consciousness

I woke up to a bright light - searing light that seemed to fry my optic nerves, the heat traveling to the center of my brain. My head pounded and I shut my eyes again groaning. I felt a gentle cloth wipe my eyes. At the same time, I felt a large rough hand squeeze mine. I opened my eyes just a crack. "Wiress? It's me, can you hear me?" I relaxed a little at hearing that calm gentle voice. I blinked and looked around the room. It was still lit by that harsh fluorescent light that reflected off the metal on the IV pole next to my bed and the lenses of my mentor's glasses. "Wiress?" The gentle voice cut through the pain of all the light hitting my brain all at once.

"Beetee." I said quietly before fatigue from trying to make sense out of this little room overtook me again. The only coherent thing my brain knows are memories. I dream about the factories in District 3. I dream about hugging my grandmother goodbye in the Justice Building. Mostly I dream about the Games. Of running and hiding. Of making traps and then hiding so I don't see who their victims are. I am up in the tree connecting wires that run through my final trap. The three trapped Careers are screaming in terror. Their screams scare me too, but I am wrapping a wire around the anode of the battery pack when I see a blinding flash of light and the world goes black.

I wake up with my left leg trapped. My hands go down to feel for bark or rope, but it's fabric. Fabric? I pull on it, and my leg flops around. I know I want to get untangled, but I can't. I jump at a sudden loud slamming noise. My heart is racing, and I can't figure out where I am. The lights are too bright, and the sheets being thrown about on the bed are shifting the lights and shadows constantly. I'm aware of someone crying.

"It's ok, shhh, Wiress, it's ok." I hear the soothing voice of my mentor. Hands hold me down, but I see the sheets moving still. Everything is still moving too fast for me to make sense of it all. My leg is freed. I am being held in strong arms as two people move around my bed. They remove the sheets to reveal a nondescript plastic mattress. The light is reflecting off it in odd places, and I stare at the lights. I jump at another loud sound. The door is now closed. My heart-rate is slowing.

When will the harshness of the lights go away? When will I be able to control my body again? When will I be able to hear normally again? My mentor is saying something, but in the chaos of my brain, his voice is cutting in and out like a bad radio signal. The only sense that doesn't overwhelm me and send me into a panic are his arms around me and his hands wrapping around mine.