( Spoiler Alert)This is the collection of events that Peeta went through when captured by the Capitol. It also reveals how he became hijacked. It also fills in the gaps of what we dont know ( like how Peeta was rescued by Gale and the rest of the rebels) and what sort of things go on in his mind and the people surrounding him. None of this belongs to me. All this belongs to Suzanne Collins, the genius behind the world of Katniss Everdeen.
Chapter 1.
( Lavinia's point of view)
I am watching the Quell on my tiny, static filled television. If I am caught, I will be punished. I sit on my rusty springed bed, the volume on the T.V. up as loud as I dare turn it. My fingers are crossed and my eyes are glued to the screen. 'You can survive , Katniss.' I think.
The Quell started yesterday, and I've seen as much as I could without getting caught. Nobody needs to be waited on once the games start to develop, they're too caught up in the action to realize they need anything else from the help.
The capitol officials are for once happy with what they have, at least for a little while. So whenever it's aired publicly, I tiptoe in and observe. I can't watch during my working hours. In fact, I'm not even aloud in my own room during the day time. I get five hours a night in my own space, that's it. Then, before dawn, I rise and tend to guests. Every day. No exceptions.
Year's ago, I would be disgusted with myself for watching the games just because I wanted to on my free time. But there are things I just need to know. I need to know how Katniss's terrible situation works out.
I can't explain why, I just feel a need to watch over her. Make sure she has the best future she can obtain. And I do everything in my power to do what I can to help. Even just the little things, like tucking her in at night.
In the 74th games, I understood that Katniss was pretending to be in love with the boy so both could return home. But the more I watch now, the more I doubt her negligence toward his love. I am almost positive she's falling for him right here in the Quell. How else would you explain the way she cried when he was electricuted?
But I think she first starts to realize it when he gives her a pearl. I feel a pang in my chest as I watch them. This new development of her feelings, it would only encourage her to save his life. And I think Peeta knows it too. I think he can tell by the way she had looked at him afterwards. I can. I feel sad for him, for Peeta, I mean. I know Katniss will succeed, she's so strong. I would not be surprised if Peeta won. But he'll be lost forever if he's by himself.
So when the fireworks come, I know what happened. I'm not an idiot. She blew the arena up, creating the perfect time for the Rebels to make a pickup. Peeta was not rescued by the same claw as Katniss.
As it happens on screen, I know Peeta is falling into the hands of the President. I don't know the rebel's plan, and I doubt Katniss or Peeta know anything. Peeta will be tortured, that I am sure. I become a little numb as the fact seeps into me. And he doesn't know a thing.
I can hear commotion in the halls in the President's mansion where Darius and I are currently working. The T.V. screen goes blank and I rush out of the door and sprint to the main kitchens. I start to help Edna, my roommate, bang pots and pans around and act like I have been here the whole time.
Edna signs that Darius was called to the airlift some time ago. Her hands flash again.'Probably making the final sweep.' The final sweep? Oh, she means they've finished the Hunger Games. Snow probably told the public Peeta won. But Edna and I know better. Now all three remaining tributes will be captured.
'I don't know what they need him for, but I'm glad, because when he comes back he will write down every single word that was spoken.' Edna signs again, a smug look on her face. This is true, his words will be passed around us Avox's like wildfire.
That's what happens when you lose your voice. Your ears become talented and you pick up every bit of information that travels through the air. If we could speak, oh, the gossip you would hear.
Instead, we share large bits of information on the slips of paper that we all keep in our uniform breast pockets. It's hard to describe too many things with sign language, it takes too long and gets complicated. We usually pass the slips around when we're nearby fireplaces. This way, we can easily burn the messages that are top secret. You never just throw them away. That's practically Avox taboo.
It's a terribly long wait for any news about the tributes, so I scrub stainless steel and sweep tiled floors to pass time away. Edna starts to hum, and this calms me down somewhat. But my imagination runs over the worst possible scenarios that those kids could endure.
So finally, much later in the evening , Darius enters the kitchens. His eyes wide, his fingers twitching over the secrets in his hand. Like usual, he walks directly over to me.
My teeth are practically chattering with nervousness as I edge over to the closest oven. I roll open the slip, and duck my head as I read his small, block like writing.
Peeta, Enobaria, and Johanna are picked up by hovercraft claw.
One cell on craft . Guards with machine guns leading them to cell.
I'm to serve President and party while they talk over next moves.
Gamemakers look furious, Snow cold and passive.
Notice Plutarch Heavensbee is missing, mentors have been arrested. No one has seen Haymitch Abernathy.
When president asks me to leave conference room, I sneak to prison ward.
All three tributes are being pushed around in single cell. Johanna is spitting insults at the guards.
Enobaria bares her teeth, she is practically growling. Peeta is silent and pale. Tears present in his eyes.
Johanna screams and continues to spit at the guards. No one is questioning them about the explosion, just leaving
them there to worry for the time being.
Until hovercraft stops, district four, Annie Cresta is led into cell, something is wrong with her.
Guards leave all four in cell, Peeta begins to talk to Annie,trying to comfort. She is in hysterics. Other's are picked up,
I do not know who they are.
I am called to serve drinks to guards, I wash and reload their guns for them.
Snow has come to decision, but does not enter cell.
We land in capitol, all four are led to mansion basement, people are waiting for them.
As entering air hangar, bombers are leaving , I can guess where to.
District 12. They're bombing it. I keep my eyes on Darius while the slip is passed around the kitchens, he looks shaken, but he's keeping himself together. All Avox's learn to never lose control, a nervous or annoying Avox can get you whipped.
No matter how much a message might affect an Avox, we take it quietly and passively. You wouldn't even notice such a message was being passed along given how diligently we work and read.
When it has traveled a full loop around the kitchens, Darius crumples it up and throws it into a brick oven. We both watch it light and sizzle, until it's only a pile of ash.
We make a quiet oath to ourselves. For Katniss Everdeen, we will watch over Peeta Mellark, and help him behind the scenes. After all, watching over those kids are the only thing we, on our own accord, can choose to do.
They come in the middle of the night. I am stuck in twilight, drifting between consciousness and dreams, when my door bang's open. My roommate, Edna, whose hair has turned white with skaky age, wakes with a guttural shriek. When she catches sight of the guards with machine guns, she collapses back onto her bed as they snatch me out of bed and drag me away.
I can't help but wonder if she has died from fright, but then as Avox, maybe playing dead was her only form of defense. And it all happens because Darius and I served Katniss and Peeta on their way to the Games.
The unfairness of it all hits me. Unspeakable anger boils my blood as they roughly shove me down hallways until we see another group of guards in front of Darius's dorm. We just stare at each other, Darius and I. Tears in both of our eyes as they slap on our handcuffs and walk us to the basement.
What will they do to us? We'll be whipped, certainly. Taught a lesson or two. But they won't kill us, will they? Grief is what hit's me then. And pain. I find that I don't want to die. Which is surprising, given my hellish circumstances. No, what I want is to protect the Mellark boy. But then, what could I do, really? Sneak him extra meals during the night? I suppose I could have dispensed pain killer's with his food after a particularly gruesome torture session. Given he gets any meals. Or breaks from torture.
I was certain I could have helped him. Hopelessness covers me as I realize I cannot help him if I am a prisoner myself. Why didn't I see this coming? It was my last wish, to help the boy. The last choice of my life. The last possible action that was completely mine. My last chance to help Katniss Everdeen.
We're led down a winding staircase, since Avox's cannot use elevators even under captivity. Our escorts have their guns jabbed into our backs. We're barefoot, both Darius and I. And the metal staircase freezes my toes. The lower we go, the colder it gets. I can see my breath in the air. Darius has it worse. He has only worn shorts to bed, while i'm dressed in full pajama pants and shirt.
When I hear a blood curdeling scream down below us, I go into some sort of daze. My senses become sharpened but clouded at the same time. I find I can only concentrate on certain things.
Like how cold and tight the handcuffs are around my wrists. How my legs are tired from walking down so many steps. The round tip of a machine gun that leaves imprints on my skin directly between my shoulder blades. Darius's teeth chattering. Bluish lights flickering on and off. And screams, so many screams.
My blood feels frozen, like a robot being pushed and shoved down a mountain. Like all my joints are stiff and old.
'This is fear.' I think. Pure, excruiciating, paralyzing fear. I've only experienced fear like this once before. But visions of green forests, Capitol hovercrafts and spears only make matters worse.
A small, hurting noise escapes me. And then I am angry with myself. I want to be brave, I want to show how the Capitol can't break me. Like Katniss.
Like how she looked bored as they led her to her first Games. I want to be strong like Katniss Everdeen.
But fear can be so painful. Like fire has somehow been embodied and slipped into your veins. A burning riptide cascading over your limbs.
Finally, we've reached the bedrock of Snow's mansion. Instead of steel, my feet graze slippery cement. There is a long hallway, it's dark, save for the lights on the machine guns the guards carry. But at the end of the hallway, there's a door with a glow seeping through its cracks.
One guard opens it, and inside the lights are so intensely bright I feel the urge to squeeze them shut. Instead, I force my eyes wide open as we enter and pass a magnitude of cell blocks. One holds Johanna, she is the one screaming, the second holds a person who is on their knees, their hands cradling their head. Enclosed in the third one is Peeta Mellark.
He is not screaming, he is not holding his head, and he isn't altogether crying . He stands, his body pressed up against the bars of his cell, fingers gripping them tightly. He is peering out, though his eyes are dilated wide with fear. In a panicky way, they swivel back and forth.
As we pass him, the guards seem to make sure he sees Darius and I. As Peeta's eyes land on me, they squint and then widen again in anger and sadness. He swallows, and then looks behind us. When I turn to follow his gaze, I just catch a glimpse of more captives before a guard with exceptionally large hands grips the top of my head and yanks it forward. They are dressed in extravagant sleep clothing with tattoos and lovely hair styles. They are surely from the Capitol, and they're openly wailing. I quickly place them as the tribute prep team.
'They're taking us all." I think to myself. And suddenly I feel so heartsick I look out the corner of my eye to find Darius for some sort of comfort. He is pale, and his shoulders have slumped forward in defeat. He looks at Peeta, his eyebrows knit together with frustration and anger.
I get one last glance at Peeta before we pass him. I see his eyes, remarkably blue in this glowing light. They are full of sorrow. But the look I give him is not angry like Darius's. Mine is kind and loving. Even one that says, 'It'll be alright.' Even though we both know it won't. And as we're being bulldozed into another room, I make another promise to myself. Peeta Mellark, despite our predicaments, I will help you.
