I have to hang on.
The people in the masks have been trying to make me lose my grip. They've tried forms of physical torture that I never could have imagined. But I'll take the pain any day over the nightmares.
She's a mutt. She's evil. She will do whatever she can to kill you.
The nightmares all revolve around her. Katniss Everdeen. There are other things, too, but she's the center of it all. I live in a constant state of terror and all of my memories are foggy and layered with horror. I can't remember what's real. I can't remember.
I know that fighting just brings on more pain. I do what they tell me. The masked people do nothing but cause pain. Tonight I will call for a ceasefire again. They tell me I've done it before. I don't remember that.
Tonight... tonight they're bombing Thirteen. I heard them say so in hushed tones when I was almost unconscious. Thirteen is the enemy. But Katniss is there. She's not the enemy. Is she? No. She's not.
They are constantly telling me that Katniss Everdeen is evil, that she's a mutt, that she's my enemy. The only thing I have to hold on to—the anchor I cling to desperately to pull myself out of the nightmares—is the thought that's she's not. She's not. Not a mutt. Not evil. She's not.
They unlock my restraints, wash me off, and put me in a suit. I am led by one of the masked people and armed guards to the side of a small stage. I remember the stage. I think. They tell me what I need to talk about, how to read the prompter, how to behave myself. I have to call for a ceasefire now... to help myself... and to help her? That thought brings on the fog and I have to wrench myself away from it because I'm on.
Snow stands at a podium set up in front of me. More fog. She's not.
"You know what to say," he hisses at me. He's a snake. More snake than human. He's evil. I think. Hatred and fear rage up inside me, against what I'm not sure, and I start tapping my foot, the fake one.
How did I lose my leg? More fog.
The red light on the camera turns on, and the monitor flares to life. The people watching can't see me yet. I am sweating and my fake leg is shaking and I'm hanging on with everything I have.
They are bombing Thirteen.
Snow greets the nation and quickly directs them to me, and the map set up behind me. I can see that I am on the monitor now and the prompter starts scrolling.
The hatred and fear inside me are making me frustrated because I still don't know where they're directed. I begin to read and in my peripheral vision see the map light up behind me. The war is causing destruction in various districts. The rebels are causing destruction. Katniss is leading the rebels? The fog comes and I have to hold it off and keep reading. I'm still sweating.
Suddenly Katniss is on the monitor, standing in rubble. I feel my jaw drop. The place looks familiar. The bakery? The bakery has burned down. My district burned down. It was my fault. I think. Or her fault? The fog seeps into my consciousness and I start trembling a little, but then the monitor is showing me again and my fear motivates me to keep reading the prompter.
I'm not on the monitor for long.
Finnick appears on the screen. Finnick. I hate Finnick. Anger flares up inside me and I can barely hold myself in my seat. Finnick left me for dead. He's talking about... Rue. I remember Rue. I think. The fog threatens to knock me out, and everyone around me is in a panic. I can't make sense of any of it. I can't make sense of anything.
The stage, the set, is in chaos. I am watching as the Capitol fights the rebels for control. Shots of Finnick and Katniss and Gale switch back and forth with shots of me and Snow. I hate them. I hate them. Do I hate Katniss? I don't remember. I hate Finnick and Gale and Snow.
Why do I hate them?
Finally, the monitor shows the Capitol seal accompanied with a flat audio tone. Soon enough it cuts back to Snow and I. He starts talking about the rebels but I can't focus because I want to tell them they're going to bomb Thirteen. I know this and they don't. Do I want to tell them?
I can't think.
"So, Peeta, in light of tonight's demonstration, do you have any parting thoughts for Katniss Everdeen?"
Katniss Everdeen.
She's a mutt.
I see her with evil, venomous eyes as she attacks me with a knife...
She's not.
"Katniss," I start shakily. I have to call for the ceasefire to protect... her? But she'll be dead soon. "How do you think this will end? No one is safe." She's not safe. She's not evil. She's not my enemy. "Not in the Capitol. Not in the districts. And you..."
They're bombing Thirteen.
She's a mutt.
She's not.
"...in Thirteen..."
The fog is coming and I can't hold it off.
She's not.
She's not.
"... dead by morning!"
"End it!" Snow yells.
What did I just do? I try to say more, but the guards are back, knocking me out of the chair. A boot catches me in the face and I cry out in pain. Everything is terrifying. Katniss, the guards, Snow, everything is out to get me. I am gagged and my hands are tied and they carry me back to my cell. I am locked onto the table again.
The masked people are here.
They ignore my new wounds, unsurprisingly. A ghostly woman's voice asks, "What were you thinking of, Peeta?"
No.
They can't have it. They can't have my anchor. I focus on this and not the actual anchor. They will not distort my anchor like they have everything else.
I will not give them my anchor.
"When you warned Thirteen about the bombing, what were you thinking?" the female voice inquires again. They can't have my anchor.
"Were you trying to protect Katniss?"
Katniss.
Katniss. Mutt. Danger.
She's not!
"Now!"
A needle jabs in my arm.
And I can't hang on.