Hey,
Seemed like you guys liked the last chapter, so I threw out this one; it's not that long, like my usual ones on other stories. The next few I hope will be though. Enjoy and thanks for the reviews. –IrishGirl2me
Chapter 2: Love Follows Heartbreak, as Fire Hates Ice
With a pen in my hand, I am sitting in my room before breakfast. I wish to write a letter to Prim, but all that I can possibly get out is 'I love you, and I'll see you soon.' I scribble her name and our address on the envelope with a beautiful blue ribbon enclosed. Writing letters is difficult for me. Trying to get the words to flow with the work of a pen seems pointless to me; I would rather speak them aloud. Then, though, I can never get the words out. I know it's not enough but I'll see her soon. Someone knocks on the door loudly and I stiffen up straight.
I am not even looking in the direction of whoever is there. I can tell it's not Haymitch or Peeta, because they would have just come in without knocking. I keep my eyes locked onto my desk and fiddle with the pen in my fingers. When I expect to hear a speech about some sort of nonsense, I smell the aroma of blood and roses. President Snow.
My head turns immediately and he has a crooked smirk across his pale face. His stance is hunched over, and now seems to rely on a cane to walk around with.
"Glad I was able to catch your attention," he stares deep into my eyes trying to detect a weakness, but I stare back stronger. His tone is cold and bitter.
"Unfortunately, there has been an… accident. Usually thinks like this don't happen, unless they are provoked, so I expect this to be difficult for you. There was a large mine accident that engulfed the mines in flames. It continued to spread, and has destroyed and diminished almost every part of District 12."
"I have no reason to believe you." My eyes are locked on his. Now, I am the hunter again and he is the prey. I spare him some seconds to finish his story and plot out my plan.
"Seventy-five percent of District 12's population is dead. Counting fatalities were an easy job to do in the mines, as well, for there was no one to count. All of the workers were vaporized, as well as anyone near the entrances. The rest burned to bits. How some managed to survive, is a miracle, but I know that all wish they had died then, for they are dying now. The unusual fast process of cancer has several dropping like flies, and the rest are coughing themselves out with a black tar substance erupting from their lungs. Prim, your mother, and your cousin, Gale, are dead." His face still contains the awful smirk.
The words stung to me like needles on my tongue. No, he's lying. I leap and grab his neck, squeezing with all of my will; I hear his chocking and struggle to breathe. Men in black break down the door and throw me off of him. They kick and beat me until I am left in the corner of my room barely breathing. Broken ribs and bruises everywhere is what I am expecting. I take sparing breaths and clench my stomach. I have coughed up blood before, but not like this.
I hear screeching and loud bangs from the train. Heat radiates in the air and black smoke starts to fill the room. I see the flames, and I know that they are coming for me. Mirrors and pictures in the hallway I hear crash to the floor and crumble. Footsteps are scarce and heading towards my door.
"Katniss? Katniss! Where are you?" he yells out to me. Peeta searches the room and I try to yell out to him from the corner behind my bed. Not a sound comes out, but a squeak. He catches me in his sight and runs over, cradles me in his arms and dodges the scattered flames. No one is around; the place is marked with black burns. It doesn't look like a small fire started; more like a bomb was set off when President Snow left, purposely so we would get killed. I look into the open doors of the train's rooms, as he is running, and see a tevelvision left on. Only for a second can I catch the glimpse of "District 12 Left In Flames" and a reporter sitting on what seems to be rock in the middle of our town. I can't be sure thought.
My head is killing me, and Peeta is muttering something to me. I can't hear him, and I can't see anymore. "Things like this usually don't happen unless they are provoked," the words are spinning in my head. All I feel is the sharp coldness running up my spine, and I'm out.
