Author's note: This second chapter is a bit different than what the previous author wrote in her version of this story. I would like everyone to know that the next few chapters will my new editions, allowing me to elaborate what happened to Katniss and what her experience is during her highjacking, and I will get into who else is there with her during the process instead of fast-forwarding to the two months Mockingjay takes place in.
Also, I will be naming the chapters 'Katniss' or 'Peeta' because right now the two characters are in different places, and I would like to touch on Peeta while Katniss is away. When/If Katniss is in District 13, then the chapters will have a different title. I've been writing stories in first person (and am about to start a new one), so I'd like to back away from that while still staying in the character's pov's. I hope this doesn't confuse any of you. If it does, please say so. I'll change it, if necessary.
She doesn't know how long she slept. Her joints still feel stiff, and when she turns her head to the right, there's a painful crook in her neck. Despite however much sleep she got, she still doesn't feel rested, and her body is on high alert, feeling as if something terrible is about to happen.
Trying to push the thought out of her head, she sits up and feels the soft cushion of the mattress sink underneath her hand. As she looks around the room, she sees a lamp resting on top of a small drawer, giving off a bright yellow glow. The walls around her are still the same shade of pure white, making her wonder if this is the same room she was in before but furnished. Looking down at her feet, she sees her ankles are no longer shackled, though there are light purple circles on her skin. She catches sight of a small silver-framed mirror hanging on the wall across from her. Her bare feet touch the cool marbled floor, causing her body to shiver, then she slips on the pair of flats next to the bed.
Katniss keeps her focus on the mirror as she walks closer to it, her reflection becoming clearer with each step. When she stops in front of it, she instantly sees the dark circles surrounding her eyes. There's a large green-purple bruise on her temple, and her lips are still chapped and cracked from her dehydration in the arena.
The light blue dress I'm wearing makes my skin look darker, she thinks as and continues to observe herself. Awful. Her black hair is down and looking natural. To make me look pretty. The thought isn't pleasing. She decides to braid her hair, needing something more familiar, but when the braid is finished, there's no hair tie to be found. This is starting to look more like a prison cell by the minute, she frowns. She undos her braid and combs her fingers through her hair.
As she turns away from the mirror, there's a knock on the door. Two male guards enter the room. Both of their faces are calm but unreadable. "Miss Everdeen, would you come with us? The president would like a word with you."
She watches them cautiously. Their gaze isn't challenging or deadly. Maybe there's a way out of this after all. "Fine," she says, and they approach her, taking her by the arms, and lead her out of her quarters.
They walk down a long, dark lit corridor, passing doors with numbers marked on them where other prisoners are likely being held. Guards run by them, and on one of their radios, Katniss can hear a female screaming while a guard yells for reinforcements. She looks over her shoulder, biting back a grunt, and watches the running guards. It causes her to shutter.
"Straight ahead, Miss Everdeen," one of the guards tells her, jerking her right arm violently.
She shifts her arm, as if to relieve the pain, but the guard keeps his forceful grip, hurting her more. They come to a sudden stop, then the door slides open.
"Right in there," the shorter guard says as both guards release her.
Gray eyes scan the room, seeing more white walls and empty room. Then, she smells it. The familiar stench of President Snow fills the room.
"Come in, Miss Everdeen," the president says. "I don't like to be kept waiting."
She enters the room and passes the small corner, seeing President Snow sitting at a dark wooden table. "President Snow," Katniss greets, keeping her voice cool. She sits in the empty chair across from him, and the overpowering smell of blood causes her nose to crinkle.
"Well, I must say it is a pleasure to see you again."
"Where's Peeta? The others," she asks with no hesitation.
"Why don't you tell me."
"I don't know."
"Don't lie." President Snow nearly snaps, and the atmosphere suddenly feels too familiar, like the way it did the day of the Victory Tour.
"It's not a lie."
"We'll see about that."
"Where is he?"
"Well, I can assure you he's not here."
Now look who's lying. Or is he? She frowns. "The arena is a blur to me. I don't remember-"
"Your useless facade can only last so long, Miss Everdeen. Soon enough you will tell me. Better it be sooner than later. The consequences will be highly severe."
"What is it you want with me?" she demands, her fists clenching in anger underneath the table.
He smiles and shakes his head. "You have become part of a cause that is far greater than yourself." President Snow leans closer to her, his eyes sharp and serious. "You are the face of the rebellion. Whether you admit to that or not, it is no longer my concern."
"But-"
"Even if what you say is true that you have no knowledge of this rebellion, the fact remains that you have the power to sway the entire nation of Panem."
"What do you need me to do?" she asks, though she's always failed.
"I want you to send a message to the rebels."
Rebels. There's that word again. "What kind of message?" she asks, unsure of what he means.
"A message that shows the Mockingjay is no more. She no longer represents a symbol of hope but of despair instead."
"Then why don't you just kill me?" It's not the first time she's asked, and it won't be the last.
"I don't want to kill you. I've told you so before. No." He smiles like a serpent. "What I'm going to do will be far better-far worse-than that."
Katniss swallows hard, trying to maintain her composure, but her panic has won over. "What do you mean?" She catches his fingers making a small gesture on the center of the table, then she hears the door open and footsteps heading her way.
A different guard, carrying a silver tray, approaches the table.
"Tell me, Miss Everdeen," President Snow pauses briefly, acknowledging the guard, then he turns his gaze back on Katniss. "How do you keep a fire from spreading?"
"I-" Her gray eyes catch sight of a long, thin needle with amber liquid in the syringe. "I don't know."
"With more fire," the president nearly sneers as a guard takes hold of Katniss' arms, forcing her up out of her chair.
"Let me go!" Katniss yells, but they don't stop. Tears sting her eyes as the rumors start to flood her head with what happens to Victors who rebel. A burning sensation runs through her veins. The amber liquid suddenly makes her feel cagey, making her want to crawl out of her own skin. Anger and irritation override her system, and the last thing she hears is an all too familiar laugh, sounding a lot like a boy she used to know.
