A/N And so, this two-shot comes to an end. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Thoughts are mine, everything else is Suzanne Collins'.
I wake to find the avox at my side. I stare at him wordlessly. He lays out some clothes on the bed and leaves. I look down and realize that I'm dressed in a simple shirt and trousers. I can tell that I'm meant to change, but I stay still in bed, unwilling to get up. The sleeping syrup makes my brain slow and sluggish. I moan softly, hanging my head. The feeling of failure swoops down upon me, making me feel as insignificant as a small flower trying to poke its head from the frozen ground in the woods of District 12. A katniss.
Her name hits me with a pang, catching me unexpectedly. I can't do this. I realize now that if they decide to torture me physically… They have ways; they have things I could never imagine, things that could kill me in a second. I can't do this! And, though I don't want to admit it, I know I'm frightened. Be strong. Be strong for her, a small but firm voice says in my head.
"Katniss," I whisper. If only she were here, if only I knew where she was. "I love you."
"How touching," a voice sneers. I jerk my head up to see a woman at the doorway, leering at me. "Get dressed," she snaps. She leaves. I can't imagine why she was here… Was there a point to that? Perhaps to scare me? I can't fathom…
I close my eyes and get myself up and out of the bed. I undress quickly and dress in the clothing provided for me. A simple shirt and trousers, like what I slept in, but, for some reason, they've also provided me a leather jerkin. Afterwards, I sit in bed, not sure what to do. Shall I wait for someone to come fetch me? Should I see if the door's unlocked? But before I have time to do anything, the woman comes back. She grunts something under her breath and then enters the room and grabs my arm firmly. She leads me out of the room and I realize I'm in a prison.
The corridor is white and pristine with doors lining it on either side. I try to just look straight in front of me, but I can't help it; I look around the corridors, wondering who lies behind the doors. I find that I truly don't want to know. I can't imagine what they've done to Johanna; she's far more forceful than me, they've probably already tried something vile on her.
Finally, after many twists and turns, we reach what I assume is the torture chamber. There are chains in the corner, along with what I assume are more modern methods of torture. Needles line a wall in different sizes and lengths. I must look strong; I can't let them think me weak. So I stare straight ahead and keep my face devoid of any emotion.
I can tell that the woman is leading me to the chains. I resist the urge to scream in terror, and let her clamp irons around my wrists, upper arms, lower legs, and ankles. She clamps the last iron around my throat. I almost lose it right there; they're not going to try and torture me, they're simply going to have me hanged in chains. But I make myself think about other things. I let my mind take me far away from this hell-hole, though it proves to be difficult. I keep coming back, keep realizing where I am.
Finally, the woman finishes. She crosses the room in three long strides and I can see that she's at the wall of needles. I can't imagine what they're planning to do to me… But then I see it. There're holes in each of the irons circling either my arms or legs. No, surely not… But I don't have the capability to stop thinking; they're going to skewer me to get answers. I can't help the look of sheer terror that appears on my face.
But I force myself to think logically; how big can the needles possibly be? They can't hurt that much; after all, this is only the first day.
The woman comes back quickly. She smiles at me, though it looks more like a snarl than a smile.
"I'm going to ask you some questions," she says. "If you answer them correctly, no one gets hurt, understand?" she asks. The opportunity is so perfect; I can't help myself.
"Well, excluding Katniss and all the other people you've been killing off to stop the revolt, right?" I ask. I regret it immediately afterwards. She punches me in the stomach and I can hear the chains rattling as all the air goes out of me. It hurts so much that I miss her next words. Then she speaks again.
"Did you know of the plot to break you and Katniss out of the games?" she asks, squinting at me.
"No," I respond. What plot? But then… A plot would explain everything; why Finnick revived me, why Mags ran into the poisonous fog… Then there was a plot! But I can't acknowledge it in fear of getting Johanna in trouble.
"I'm going to try again," she says, clearly getting impatient, "did you know of the plot to free you and Katniss from the games?"
"No," I repeat. A grin appears on her face. She looks feral, almost insane. She picks up one of the needles; no, it's a dart. I know what she's going to do a split second before she does. I try to lift my hands to ward off the needle, but the chains restrict my movement. Then she strikes, throwing the dart towards my wrist, making her target. I can't restrain the scream of anguish that escapes my lips. The woman smiles cruelly. There are no words for this. That dart was coated in poison, I'm sure of it. It must have been; what else would account for the burning sensation creeping up my arm? In addition to this, I can't move my arm, for if I do, a searing pain travels throughout my body, almost making me convulse. My head droops and my eyes squeeze shut. I can't let them get to me; I must take my mind away, take it somewhere else. Somewhere with Katniss.
I remember kissing her on the beach in the games, and for some reason, I knew that she loved me. If only for that moment, she loved me. I am so concentrated in my thoughts that I don't hear what the woman says next. But I must keep this up; if I don't, I don't know how long I can keep my tongue to myself.
I remember that kiss, I remember everything about it, right up to how it tasted. It tasted salty, like the sea, but at the same time it also tasted sweet. It was something I had wanted so dearly, wanted so much. Something that made me feel like I was in a dream because it was so wonderful. I had wanted that kiss to last forever, but the lightning had stopped it.
But on second thought, that doesn't matter; I had known that Katniss had loved me, if only for that moment, and it was enough.
Suddenly I'm jerked away from my thoughts when another dart punctures my skin. This one's in the inside of my arm, but this time, I manage to hold back the scream, emitting only a small whimper. She must not get to me; I must hold her off.
Katniss, Katniss… Where are you? What are they doing to you? If this is what they're doing to me, I can't imagine what she's going through. Suddenly, I conjure up an image that shocks me, that makes me want to scream with more pain than being skewered by the poisoned darts. Katniss. Being tortured. I manage to hold back the scream, but the thoughts stay like an unwelcome visitor. Her body writhing in pain, her back arching, NO! I can't, I can't think that. I have no proof; after all, if she had been captured, wouldn't they have tried to put us in the same room to see if we would spill our secrets without even realizing it? I can't give up hope now. Not now. But perhaps— A horrible cry is wrenched from my lips, cutting off all thought, as my torturer slowly slides the dart through the hole in my other wrist. This is agony, the needle seems to take an eternity, and when at last she finishes ripping my skin, the needles sticking out of me burn. They make me feel as if I'm on fire; I can't help it, I moan loudly, piteously. The woman just smiles cruelly. I close my eyes in shame; there are only four more holes left. I just need to hold out for a bit longer. I grit my teeth and try to control my breathing.
Katniss is the only thing that will keep me sane; I can't forget her now. I conjure up an image that is possibly one of the worst. My proposal to her. Proposals are meant to be real and from the heart, and mine was. But equally so are the responses meant to be. I remember her face, her eyes feigning disbelief and her lips turned down slightly. She seemed so sad to be there, as if she wanted to be anywhere else but at my side. I remember the pain I felt then; there I was, spilling my heart out to her, and she didn't even seem to care. I knew it wasn't that she didn't care, rather that she didn't really want to be where she was at the time. She would much rather be standing next to Gale.
For the last time, I am torn away from my thoughts as the last needle gets pushed through the last hole. It is agony all over again, but I am comforted with the thought that after this last bout of pain, it's over. Or at least, it's over for today. But then, while I feel surreal with pain, the woman takes off the shackles. Blood bursts from them, coating the floor. And then everything turns black.
A/N Enjoyable? Leave a review! Bisous ~ the shattered star