Burned
By Jello354
Chapter One
I had merely begun setting up the Banquet Hall for the party later that night when the first bomb was dropped on the Capitol. I knew because of the deep rumble that shook the earth… and because I saw fire.
Out of the glinting glass wall of the Hall, I watched, expressionless but secretly fascinated, as a cluster of skyscrapers at the other end of the city went up in flames. I looked away hastily as alarm bells began to sound. I knew without a doubt that President Snow would be the first to be taken to safety, to some sort of bunker far underground, followed by guests and prisoners intermingled with countless authorities. The Avoxes would need to make their ways down themselves.
I was a newbie; I didn't know the way. But the young redheaded Avox who had been working alongside me did, so when she left the room, I followed swiftly.
I hardly took any notice of the smooth, dark wooden floor I trod on or the vaulted red ceilings of the winding halls as we made our way to the bunker. Every time we passed an elevator, I glance away discreetly. Because most elevators led down to the Training Centre, where Hunger Games tributes prepared themselves every year. But the Hunger Games were part of my old life, which would never be relived. It was all over.
Still, as much as I tried to forget who I had been, I had breathtakingly vivid dreams every night of dresses engulfed in flames, of children preparing for a deadly battle, and of a poor girl from District Twelve that changed me. And changed herself… into the Mockingjay.
Chapter Two
Not too long ago, I'd waited on a Peacekeeper visiting from District Two. On the television in his chamber, an emergency news broadcast was airing, probably meant for the Peacekeeper's eyes only. I acted indifferently, but was listening intently. I heard that the remaining tributes in the 75th Hunger Games, the third-and most shocking- Quarter Quell, had been "abducted" by rebels from District Thirteen. At this point, the man shooed me out hastily.
This news brought me great joy. Though surprised that District Thirteen existed, I presumed Katniss was safe there with Peeta Mellark and her family. Though, knowing her, she was probably feeling as out of place there as I was here- in the bomb shelter with President Snow.
I constantly avoided him, though I was forced to abide to his every need, as an Avox. Toward him I felt the purest loathing, hatred so mind-bogglingly intense that I often experience interminable migraines and violent tremors that shook me to the core. He'd ruined me. I was no longer the man who'd helped incite the second Uprising of Panem. I was no longer the man who had partly shaped the Girl on Fire, the symbol of the rebellion. I was no longer Cinna.
I bit the inside of my cheek forcefully, furious at myself for thinking the unthinkable. I was trying to forget. Unnoticeably, I traced the burn scar on my palm with my index finger. It was a tight, crusty little patch of skin, matching the thousands that covered my body.
I suppressed a shudder, remembering the words the President had uttered once before he'd inflicted the burns: "You played with fire, MY fire, and I ensure you… you will be burned."
And burned I was.
Chapter 3
For a bomb shelter, the place was pretty snazzy. Five plush red leather couches were placed smartly around the hugely commodious white room, as well as an oriental neon rug and multiple vases of multi-colored bio-engineered flowers. A steel vent running along the perimeter of the ceiling emitted warm air, making the underground chamber quite comfortable.
Of course, I was required to stand in the corner with the three other Avoxes: the redhead, a buff male, and a wiry middle-aged man that, supposedly, had once been a Peacekeeper.
Other officials were continuously flowing into the subterranean bunker, descending toward it via the spiraling iron tunnel and entering through the red arch. President Snow rose from a sofa and led one man, who had just arrived, to a remote corner of the shelter where they spoke in hushed voices. I averted my gaze immediately, cursing at myself internally. If anyone saw me expressing any interest in anything, I would be killed. Avoxes were meant to be mindless servants. Most turned out that way after a decade or so of sleeping on the cold cement floor of the Avox Quarters and never speaking, ever. Because their tongues had been cut out. The emptiness in my mouth I had grown used to returned to my full awareness.
Shaking the gruesome (but painfully true) thought out of my head, I obtusely regarded the flow of people strolling calmly through the red archway into the bunker. I noticed a prisoner. A young woman with thick brown hair and muscular upper arms was being manhandled roughly through, iron manacles binding her wrists and ankles. She looked strikingly familiar, her furious eyes flashing. I was positive I'd seen her before… but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. After a minute or so, she was shoved against the wall near me. The woman slumped to the hardwood floor and attempted to rise right away, but the two guards pushed her back down to a seated position. She swore at them… and it hit me. Johanna Mason, District Seven Hunger Games victor from a few years back, forced to participate in the third Quarter Quell. I'd seen her in the ridiculous tree costume her stylist had made her for the Opening Ceremonies a month and a half ago. We locked eyes for a millisecond, enough for me to see the surprise jar her body. She lurched upwards unthinkingly, and a guard whipped a syringe out of his sleeve and stabbed it into her arm's main artery. Johanna keeled over, unconscious.
The guard did not even look at me, unaware that I had caused the girl to act up. She'd been surprised to see me here, in the drab grey uniform of an Avox, but it was highly likely she'd expected it after I had sacrificed myself by creating the Capitol-jeering, revolutionary mockingjay dress for Katniss Everdeen the night before the last Games.
Though I was lucky not to have been noticed by Johanna's guard, I was so overcome with confusion that I felt no relief whatsoever. What was Johanna doing here? Hadn't all of the remaining tributes been rescued by freedom fighters? Was there… anybody else who'd been captured by the Capitol?
With that last question lingering in my mind, my gaze shot toward the people entering the bunker. And what I saw made me want to die right then and there: a boy with a stocky build and blond hair that fell across his sparkling blue eyes.
Peeta Mellark.
Chapter Four
I was lucky to have suppressed my gasp when I laid eyes on the boy from District Twelve who'd stuck with Katniss throughout both of their Hunger Games and was very much in love with her. I averted my eyes quickly, knowing the officials would be keeping their eyes trained on Peeta and me. They might've been assuming we would try to communicate. But I could control myself, as I'm sure Peeta could- he hadn't spotted me yet, anyway.
Rage tensed my muscles and boiled my blood, dulled by a heavy wave of sorrow. Peeta, the boy who had completely outsmarted the Capitol and was the one who'd kept Katniss from cracking all those times, had been captured, not rescued. He was a prisoner of President Snow. I knew at that moment that I would get my life back, save Peeta, and make my way to District Thirteen. I would be part of the Uprising.