I wake up feeling awful. The experience I'd had last night was still bothering me. I had barely slept. every time my eyes closed, they were rigorously pried open by panic. He reduced me to a sobbing mess with a single movement. I'm upset, ashamed, worried. He made breaking me down look so simple. How would I survive the arena again if the capitol was able to produce weapons as effective as him? I shudder just thinking about it.
Haymitch told me to go see him again, specifically to "find some more human" in him. I tried my hardest to explain to him what had transpired last visit, but he didn't seem to grasp the full extent of it. Even when I told him about his attacking me, he insisted it was under control.
"Had you been in any real danger" he said lazily "we would have intervened". I walk down the hallway in a shaky trance, pondering how he will act in my presence this time. I begin wonder more about his background as my feet carry me toward the elevator. stopping at the doorway, I show the guard my identification. He glances at it briefly and nods. He reaches over to his side pocket and pulls out a small keypad, typing in a code hurriedly. He hands me a plastic card so I can access the elevator when I leave. As he puts the object back into his pocket, I notice how weak the man looks. He couldn't be more than 25, but he has a thousand mile stare and bags below his eyes like nothing I've ever seen. He gulps as the elevator behind the door begins to ascend from below us with a hum. I break the silence.
"Why is his chamber so low?" I ask. I know why, but the man seems to be in desperate need of normal human interaction.
"To keep out the noise." the guard says shakily.
The drums.
The elevator doors open after about several seconds of trying to avoid the guards' desperate stare. I step in and breathe deeply. There's a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach. The doors close, and the elevator drops into the earth. I count the seconds. 3...5...8...12...14. the contraption stops and the doors open with a sleek shik. His room is at the end of the brightly lit metallic hallway.
I despise the hallway.
every step gives you another opportunity to think about turning back; each click of your heels on the concrete makes you remember what he can do to you; and when you finally reach the door, you're so afraid of what's behind it, you're driven mad. I begin the perilous walk toward his closed door, my tense steps echoing through the hall. I stop as I hear the elevator close behind me and begin to ascend. I suppose it leaves automatically to ensure he doesn't escape. I'm trapped. I proceed to walk forward, inching closer to his room.
I reach the end of the hallway and put my hands on his door. I pause, and rest my head on the cold steel barrier that separates us. What occurred the first time I met him comes rushing back to me. I twitch. I stand defenseless. I take three deep breaths, and turn the doorknob. This time, he's sitting cross-legged on the floor. He's looking down at his fingers. He flexes them in different patterns, intertwining the digits with each other to form odd signs with his hands, all the while whispering an almost soothing chant to himself. If I didn't know better, I'd assume he was a monk of some sort performing a ritual. I open my mouth. No. Perhaps I shouldn't speak yet. I stand behind him, breathing through my nose with my hands behind my back.
... lakka ku, uryú soko kay, yah, mai, izy lu lee, kyo, bakana ho, lokurachi ne, hachi me, dachi que, lo, soko suki dam, swam aru ne, sa.
He finishes. The chant was oddly beautiful. My fear is forgotten. He looks up, and I dare to gaze at his eyes again. They glow hazel now; nothing irregular. But there's something behind them that awakens an animalistic instinct deep inside me. it screams at me to run.
"You are here again." He says as if I wouldn't be aware of this without him telling me.
"You're correct." I say, spreading my hands. "Here I am."
"Katniss." He says, looking at the floor. "Did the chant sooth you?" I answer sincerely.
"Yes. It was very beautiful." He stands up without reacting to my reply, and walks to his bed. It's a pathetic metal cot with nothing but a thin mattress and a comforter, and I feel a mild twinge of sympathy for him. I survey his room and realize that the colorless blanket lying on his bed may be the only possession he has in the world. He stares at the wall.
"You seem to have no desire to be inside this room with me." He says coldly.
"Like last time, the thought at the forefront of your mind is to leave... Yet unlike last time, you are not very tense. You aren't shivering as much. there is no sweat on your brow. and your skin is not flushed. but you are acting a bit unnatural..." His observations chills me to the bone. He can read me with disturbing accuracy. He turns around and stares at me blankly.
"What are your motives?" He asks me, his sharp eyes boring into my soul. I feel a bead of sweat trickle down my forehead. I'm freezing up.
"What are your motives?" He asks again. Find some more human in him. Haymitch said.
Before he can ask another time, I answer.
"I want to know your name." I say. He twitches, and blinks once. I take note of this reaction.
"My name." He stares past me and looks downward. He crosses his hands behind his back and shivers. With his raspy tones, he whispers my own.
"Katnisss." The word comes out of his mouth like there are nails scraping against his teeth. I think I liked it better when he called me "Kat".
"My name..." he furrows his brow and rubs his right temple.
"I haven't decided yet." He says with finality. I'm a bit taken aback by his answer. He hasn't decided yet? what does that mean? I rephrase my question.
"Well, what do people call you?" He sits on his bed for a moment, thinking. I'm actually a bit intrigued now that I asked the question. He stands up, making me twitch nervously.
"I was initially called number four-sixteen." I was half expecting an answer like that. He's just a tool the capitol exercises its sick and twisted research upon.
"Is that a proper name, Katniss?" He asks bluntly. I think carefully. He doesn't seem to be interested in snapping me in two like last time, so I choose to answer honestly.
"I don't really think so..." I say slowly. He nods, staring past me. There is a placid, natural silence.
"Your stance is weak." He says suddenly.
"I could puncture your femoral artery and break your leg with two movements. You would bleed to death in minutes."
I don't respond to him. This meeting had just taken a very dark turn. I feel my palms begin to sweat. he opens his mouth again, and says in formal tones,
"If you leave yourself open like that inside the arena, I will kill you." I nod, turn, and leave. That was enough human-searching for one day.
Hey people. I hope I can continue this story at a faster pace soon... I've been editing this story constantly.
R&R, and thanks for reading!