"My mother and younger brother. My girl. They were all dead two weeks after I was crowned victor. Because of the stunt I pulled with the force field, Snow had no one to use against me." – Haymitch, Mockingjay
The cells in the Capitol have always had the same smell. A damp smell mixed with the scent of strong antiseptic, and the lingering chemical smells that remain after the Capitols inventive forms of torture.
These are the smells that I've come to tolerate in the last twenty-five years, and I would give anything to replace them. Sometimes, I lay in my cell and imagine the smells of childhood. The smell of suit and grease in the hob. Or dust in the streets. Even the smells of herbs and medicinal plants in my mothers shop. I'd give anything to go back.
Recently, things have gotten worse. Now, I share a cell with a young girl named Johanna. At first, she had a fiery spirit and fought their torture with everything they could. But soon she was worn down. I still hear the screams of a boy, the gargle of an Avox and the muffled cries of Johanna constantly, mixed with the erratic screams and calls of the crazy girl next door, who I have been told is called Annie.
Although the scene is dreadful, and I know it's cruel to be glad they're here. But these people are the first link to him I've had in over two decades. I miss him, and I know it's wrong to still think about him, because I'm sure we're different people now. But how I wish I could go back to that day.