My writing may not be the best this very sad chapter. I haven't done Annie's POV in quite some time, and it's hard to write this story as it is.

The Cellmate

(ANNIE)

A look of absolute horror washes over Broadsea's face. Immediately, his hands start shaking and his chest starts heaving. "Why is she here?"

He's bloody and bruised. He's wearing a pair of black shorts similar to mine and one of these metal collars.

Thaddeus releases me and I fall to the floor. There's a cold sort of feeling in my arm the blood rushes back into it. "Isn't it obvious, BR64?" he asks. "She's here to keep Finnick in line. And the warden thought she might loosen your tongue, too. I thought he was wrong. But then again . . ."

Just as I make it onto my knees, he smacks me back to the ground. Then kicks me in the ribs so hard I hear a crack.

I can't see anything through the tears pouring from my eyes. But I don't make a sound.

"Maybe I'm not getting my point across." He turns and addresses the others. "Boys. Collar-shock."

What's a collar-shock? Whatever it is, Broadsea doesn't seem to like the sound of it. He clenches his jaw so hard I think he's gonna shatter his teeth.

One of the other Peacekeepers taps a white cuff on his wrist. "Requesting collar-shock on AC70."

Broadsea doesn't say a thing. Instead, he glares at Thaddeus as though looks could kill.

The voice of that woman – the receptionist lady – comes out of nowhere. "Request granted."

There's a tiny ringing noise in my ear as the blinking red light on my collar changes. It stops blinking and stays steady. Then it turns blue.

Shortly afterwards, the pain comes.

Can't exactly say what it's like 'cause I've never felt it before. Rips the scream right out of my throat. Hurts. Burns, stings, itches, freezes, everything. All at once. Constricts my throat so I can't breathe. Or move. Or do anything but scream.

When it stops a few moments later, I stay on the ground. It's not worth it to move. Breathing sounds like nails scraping on a chalkboard.

"Are you sure you don't want to tell us anything?" Thaddeus asks Broadsea.

"Go to hell," Broadsea says calmly. He hasn't bothered to take his eyes off of Thaddeus this whole time.

"I think that's enough for today anyway." And with that, the Peacekeepers go.

The moment the door shuts Broadsea is by my side. He picks me up and carries me over to a tiny cot that I didn't notice was there. It's about as thin as a duvet, with only a threadbare sheet thrown over it. He sets me down in the middle of it and pulls the covers up to my shoulders.

"It's okay," he says; I still can't breathe right. "Stay still. You'll be able to speak again in a few minutes." And so I lie there obediently, marinating in the pain. Broadsea sits a few feet away, watching me all the while.

I manage to ask, "Where's Finnick?"

"District Thirteen," he says. "Where you should be."

And then he starts explaining our situation.

"The warden, Telemachus, is Belisarius's younger half-brother. Peeta Mellark is definitely here. Johanna Mason and Enobaria Borden might be, too. I'm not exactly sure what collar-shocks are, but they hurt like hell. When things started going wrong in the arena, me and a few other mentors created a diversion so Plutarch and Haymitch could escape and rescue the tributes." He pauses there as his eyes sort of glaze over.

I put my hand on his.

"They shot the mentors from Seven and Eight," he continues quietly. "Willow and Ulysses. The one from Three hanged himself before they got the chance to kill him." He sniffs and wipes his nose. "But they got me. They executed all the other mentors – even the ones that didn't know anything." He points at the wall across from us. "That turns into a television. They broadcast the executions to the whole country. Even in this cell."

I squeeze his hand.

"They'll probably do the same thing when they decide to kill me."

[LATER]

"Why are you fixing her up?" asks Broadsea.

Doctor Herr sighs. "Many prominent Capitol citizens believe that Miss Cresta should be treated humanely." He presses a white square of gauze to the spot where I was kicked. "As long as she's fixed up afterwards, the president can do what he wants without those citizens getting angry."

"That doesn't sound right," Broadsea says. "Why don't they just not-torture her?"

In reply, the doctor snorts.

"Can I have water?" I ask quietly. My throat has recovered enough for me to speak.

I've been locked up here for at least a day now. Every few hours, Thaddeus and a few others come in to interrogate Broadsea. And then there's that horrible screaming that comes from the other cells every now and then.

But Finnick is safe. That's all that matters.

"Certainly." Doctor Herr grabs a small canteen and gives it to me. I gulp down half and pass it to Broadsea, who drains it in seconds. The doctor points at the gauze square that's now sticking to my skin on its own. "That's synthetic human tissue. It will fall off when you've healed." He stands up and gathers his things.

I don't really know what Doctor Herr looks like 'cause he's wearing a surgical mask, cap, and scrubs. But he's got brown eyes. He doesn't seem alarmed by seeing all this violence. But at the same time, he doesn't strike me as a torturer.

"Thank you," I say to him.

"You're welcome," he says. He tosses another canteen. "That may be the only drink you get for quite some time, so I suggest you save it."

The door flies open. Telemachus, Thaddeus, and one massive gorilla of a man come in.

"Don't leave just get, doctor," Telemachus says. He's livid. "You services will be needed again in a few minutes.

"Don't you dare screw up my hard work," Herr snaps back.

I turn my head to watch as Thaddeus and Gorilla Man each grab one of Broadsea's arms and slam him against the wall. When I turn back to Telemachus, he punches me square in the face.

Herr makes an angry noise. "Telemachus, what the hell?"

"Her brother killed mine!" Telemachus screeches.

"I didn't know anything! I swear!" I say.

"Shut UP!" And he hits me again, this time in the gut.

"Stop! You'll re-brake her effing rib!" Herr says – but he does not say effing. "God damn it." He starts sorting through his medical items.

"Broadsea, help me!" I beg.

He's not fighting the Peacekeepers that hold him. He just looks indifferent.

"Please!"

Telemachus keeps hitting and hitting and cussing at me.

"If you kill her, Snow's going to make you eat your own entrails," Herr says, flicking a syringe. "You know that, right?"

Telemachus doesn't pay attention.

Instead, he hits me so hard in the head that I black out.