~ 3.17 ~

                                    

                                          

                            

                                
                            
                              
                                  
                              
                              
                                
                                  
                                  
                                
                              
                             
                            
                            
                          
                          
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'My friends forgive me.
That I live and you are gone. 
There's a grief that can't be spoken, 
And there's a pain goes on and on.'
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Gazing at the comatose figure covered in pristine white sheets, he reached out with a scarred hand and brushed away a strand of fair hair, tucking it securely behind her ear. Colour had returned to her face, along with fat so her cheekbones were no longer hollowed out and her skin no longer translucent. Once again, her lips were soft and pink, instead of chapped and cracked. Tubes were attached to various places of her body and whilst horrifying to look at, Cato knew that the fluids within those tubes were doing their best to provide the unconscious girl with the vitamins and medicine she needed for her to be healthy once more. 
Bulky plaster adorned both her arms and had been placed carefully by her sides. Medics had informed the blonde brute that they were to prevent Indiana from ripping the stitches from her flesh again. After hearing the pain Indiana had inflicted upon herself, Cato had been sick to his stomach, unable to do little more than grimace. One medic admitted that she had thrown up after seeing the damage for the first time and discovering that Indiana had caused that with nothing but her hands. 
Alongside the news of physical harm, the blond man had been informed that a mental illness was highly likely after the torture she had suffered. Reassuring him that her mind hadn't been altered in the same manner as Peeta's, the medics had discussed that whilst her memories hadn't been warped, it was highly likely she had forgotten some. As if hearing that Indiana may have no recollection of her romance with him wasn't heartbreaking enough, the final blow was when the word insanity had been mentioned. 
Psychiatric therapy would have to be put in place in the unfortunate event that that had occurred and Indiana would have to be isolated from the other members of District Thirteen. In fact, it was highly likely that she had even conjured up the images of the deceased to comfort her through the difficult times. In an event to detach herself from the hell she had been forced through, Indiana might've gotten herself stuck between the land of the living and the land of the dead. 
Rescuing her hadn't been the quick fix to the ailment of her mind that Cato had dreamed it would be. 
Pressing a kiss to the pale hand he held, Cato begged his fiancée to open her eyes. 
"You're safe now, Sweetheart. You can open your eyes. Indiana, you're safe. I promise I'll keep you safe this time. Just come back to me." 
A tear rolled down his cheek, splashing on the blinding white tile of the sterilised room. 
"I know I failed you before but that will never happen again. I'm not letting you out of my sight this time. I need you to wake up now." 
Despite knowing the probability of her waking soon was slim – her condition had only become stable six hours ago – Cato continued to beg, praying she could hear him.