Author's Note: Preparing for NaNoWriMo, sorry for the lack of writing.( If you wanna be writing buddies, leave a message. ) Thanks for reading.
Nothing belongs to me.
Under her feet, a small cockroach crawls to a crack in the wall, slowly moving while she stares at it. She used to hate cockroaches. Their bodies made her anxious. Now she doesn't mind them. They are, after all, only trying to survive, like her.
She can hear Peeta sobbing in the next room, screaming as they do something terrible to him.
She's sure it's been going on for hours. She didn't mean to fall asleep, but she did, and his screams haunted her sleep.
In the corner of her eye, she can see her hair, long and dirty, hanging past her shoulders and over her breasts. They cut off that other girl's hair, or ripped it out, as a form of torture. Anyway, it's gone.
They leave her alone, and she doesn't know why. Sometimes the guard spits or slaps her in the face, but that is it, that is all they do to her. She wonders why. Actually, she knows why. Finnick told her.
She is the crazy girl. That is her protection. She is the crazy girl, who no one wants to touch and who couldn't possibly have any kind of important information. Who doesn't know anything, although she does.
Peeta's screaming is abruptly cut off, and she wishes she could tear her imagination from her head as it taunts her.
It's all she has in here. Her imagination, which makes the walls bleed and scream, which makes Peeta die, and Finnick, too.
Finnick. His screams echo in here, too, his desperate whimpers and wails as someone torments him. Sometimes he screams her name, too.
In the beginning, there was Peeta who helped her. Peeta who removed her hands from her ears and reminded her that is wasn't real, that they couldn't touch Finnick anymore, just like they can't touch Katniss. That they weren't the ones screaming, that someone had manipulated their voices, just like in the Games.
But Peeta is wrong. They can touch Katniss, as long as they have him.
She stares at the lumpy shirt that is barely covering anything, that leaves her cold for Finnick's arms, and wishes she was at home.
Home. Wherever Finnick is, is home.