The thump of a guard from the next room over. The steady drip of a leaky pipe above my head. The constant humming of the air conditioner, fueling temperature change to the entire facility. The occasional shriek or whine from the next cell over. All sounds I have become too familiar with over the past few weeks.
While there is little to do in the damp cage that is my cell, I am hardly able to sleep. The nightmares and memories that clog my slumber are far worse than my conscious state. It is the unknown that plagues my mind, the constant questions. Why if my tracker was taken out did I still get caught? Where is Peeta? Is he in twelve with my family? Do they miss me? Will I ever see any of them again in my lifetime?
In the amount of time I have been locked down here, I have seen very few things. The bars of the cell as well as the cement pavement that surrounds me. This has been accompanied with the frightened face of Johanna and the whitewashed peacekeepers who occasionally bring us only the necessary amount of food to survive. Often I am brought out of my cell to sit in a padded room across from an intense looking man who asks me questions about the rebel cause and my involvement in what occurred in the arena. I answer the same questions each time, yet they still continue to question my loyalty. I suppose they think that the woman who began this all has to be involved in it's continuance. It is because of this reason that it is not surprising to be led, with bound hands, out of another padded room with a table.
I step into the room and instantly notice the pungent and almost stale smell of the room, as if it has been sealed off from the world for a long time. The guard lightly shoves me into the room and shuts the door behind me. I walk to the table and take a seat, noticing the other seat across the table as well as on on the end of the table, totaling to three chairs. I find this odd but do not think much of it as I settle my boney hips into the chair and prepare myself to deal with the same interrogator and answer the same questions again.
Nothing could prepare me for who enters the door.
I hear the door creak open and do not bother to meet the eyes of my opponent. It is not until I hear the door shut followed by my name being gasped that I glance up. My steeling and tired eyes are met with an electric blue that I know all too well. Startled I snap my eyes shut, determined that I must be dreaming. Peeta can't be here, Haymitch got him out first. He went along with my plan and Peeta is safely back home in twelve baking to his heart's content.
A noise that sounds almost like a cry escapes my lips, as I reopen my eyes and find the blonde haired boy to remain across from me. He is much thinner and has deep circles under his eyes from the lack of sleep. Does he suffer similar nightmares?
In that moment, I want nothing more than to stand and embrace him and my body, having a mind of it's own while dealing with Peeta, jolts from the cool metal of the chair and races over to him. In an instant I feel a weight fall off my shoulders as his arms engulf me.
Peeta is alive.
The minute the thought enters my brain, I am bombarded by all of the grief that Peeta is here at the capitol with me, also facing potential torture and death. I shove the thought from my brain and choke out a single sentence, muffled through his worn shirt.
"H-how are you here?" I ask, pulling away slightly to look him in the eyes.
"When the force field blew up around the arena, they pulled me out and brought me here. For the past while, I have been in a cell with Finnick being questioned. I thought you were dead. I thought snow killed you for what you did. I thought.."
The creak of the metal door opening behind us stops him mid-sentence as we scatter to the back of the room, still clutching the other tight. Behind the heavy metal door, a white figure emerges in a well tailored suit. President Snow himself walks in, smiling that coy and haunting grin. Out of fear, I press tighter into Peeta, smelling the experience he has been through radiating off his poor body.
"Well I see the two of you have become acquainted. Even time apart cannot quell the connection of two lovers" he remarks snidely, motioning for the two seats. Neither Peeta nor myself more, we simply watch as Snow walks toward us.
"Fine, if the two of you are not going to pleasant, I'll make this blunt. I am giving you two options on how to proceed further in this situation. One is much more pleasant than the other, those both require some, baggage, you could say."
I choose to look at Peeta who glances at me, mirroring the look of disdain mixed with question I am feeling. What deals is Snow trying to make this time?
"What do you want us to do?" I ask, trying to steady the nervous quiver in my throat. The observant man smiles, feeling a sort of accomplishment over my fear. I hate that I have grown to be this weak in my minimal time down here.
"Well, as I am sure you have noticed, you have recently been questioned regarding the involvement in the rebel forces. As we have successfully managed to stomp out any thoughts of war, it is unnecessary to pursue this from you. Due to this, I am willing to give you two options for freedom." Snow pauses, taking out a small hankerchief and slowly wiping it across his lips. He examines it intently and then repockets it before continuing on.
"As you know I am a fair man. I take care of those who do well in their roles to please me and my people. It is because of this that I offer you this suggestion. The capitol and it's people are on edge at the moment, speak of a war brought unrest to the society. In order to distract from these negative ideas, I need to create a distraction. What better way to keep people preoccupied than to focus on the star-crossed lovers relationship."
"You want us to go back to pretending to be engaged then? Try and fool everyone into thinking that we've reclaimed our love that was strained through the games?" Peeta says in disbelief. He moves slightly forward so that he stands almost directly across from Snow. From where I stand, I can see the challenge between the two men, both taunting the other to make a move.
"What I am suggesting goes a bit beyond that, I am proposing the idea of being sold. You two are young and very beautiful. The people of the capitol have not seen this in many a years. If you agree to this, you will remain here as guests. I will treat you well and your families will never be harmed. However, if you do not, the other will be tortured."
"You think you can blackmail us into being your sex slaves?" I shriek. The thought of strangers hand on my body makes my skin crawl. What is this sick idea?
"If you think of it that way, it is already to late to make the deal. However, I am sure that your families in district twelve would like to stay in their homes. It would sure be a shame for them to find bombs falling from the sky all because of your selfish actions."
"This is unbelievable. We're not property!" Peeta gasps. I move closer to him, gripping his pant leg to keep him from exploding. The anger is mixed with fear and concern. We both know that the other will do whatever it takes to protect our families from harm.
"Actually you are. Ever since your names were drawn from that glass bowl you have been mine. From every declaration of love to arrows fired, I owned them. If you would like to save each other and your loved ones, I recommend you take the deal."
"I-how…" Peeta starts, but I cut him off.
"Let us go together." I mumble out.
"What!" Peeta gasps in shock and terror.
"If you really want to sell the idea of our love, sell us, not one. We can be a package deal and get you twice the amount of money. If you agree to this, I promise you I will remain loyal. I won't try to run, I'll do as you say. You just must keep up your end of the bargain as well." I plead to Snow.
I see the twinkle in his eye as the idea runs through his mind. He runs a hand through his slicked back white hair and purses his lips in thought.
A single beat pass he and walks from the room. I look at Peeta startled and feel a wave of fear wash over me. I've done it, I said the wrong thing and now he is planning how best to kill me, or worse, Peeta. My breath hitches and I reach for Peeta.
"Peeta, I-I'm sorry. I tried my best-" I start. As I reach toward him, more guards burst into the room. I scream and I am grabbed by the arm and torn away. We walk down the hall again and I am thrown into my cell once more.
This time, it is my cries that fill the room.