I still have no clue what to show for my private training session, but yesterday, Rue told me to show my healing skills after I healed a man in a simulation.

"But a simulation is so different than the actual thing!" I complained, watching the ever so satisfying roll of her eyes.

"Just do it, Prim. I believe in you."

Somehow, her words made me feel more confident, but they've worn off now, especially after Rue goes into the room, door clanging ominously after her. Peeta tries sending me what appears to be an encouraging look before his name gets called, and then it's only me. I feel like we've established an automatic and implied truce, not an alliance, as I'm already allied with Rue and I don't think I should ally with someone else. I do like Peeta, but with three people...More people to protect, to let down, to eventually betray. I don't want that.

But surprisingly, it only takes what feels like ten minutes (everyone else took around 20 minutes or longer) until my name gets called on the crackly loudspeaker. Dutifully, I enter and curtsy as a courtesy, not taking my eyes off of those large, scary weapons. One of the knives even has blood on it!

"You may begin."

Where did that voice come from? I turn back and see the long table, filled with food, drinks, and other treats. Maybe a speaker system?

I curtseyed the wrong way... Blushing with embarrassment, I scan the table in search of the Gamemakers who are supposed to be judging me, but there's only one, drunk in a chair, passed out. The others appear to be clustered in the corner nearest to the medical station, which I had planned to work with, and I head there in confusion, and although part of my mind is going, Turn back, Prim, I know I have nothing to turn back to - better to gather the attention of these Gamemakers.

Oh my gosh. I stifle a scream, but still jump in shock as I take in this sight. A Gamemaker is lying on the floor bleeding from a... knife slice? A knife slice on his leg. To be honest, as I take it in, it's not as bad as it looks, it only appears to have broken skin, and probably only half a centimeter or two down. They're all muttering about lockdowns and stupid tributes and trying to call an Avox in.

I wonder if this is why Peeta finished so quickly, he just turned tail and left, maybe? But then why was I called in, is it because it's embedded in the system, or was it an accident? I don't know, but I'll do my best to get a good score, for sponsors, so I can return back to Katniss, Mother, Lady, and Buttercup.

I don't think any of the Gamemakers know anything about healing, and they're probably idiots, to not keep some strong Capitol medicine in here, just in case. Why aren't they using their communication devices? And why can't they just take him to a hospital or something? I've heard that in the Capitol, they have hospitals, places where people who are injured can be healed. So I suppose that we can call our house a hospital, right?

Wiping all my thoughts away, I bump past the Gamemakers, and, ignoring their baffled looks, begin to use some plants to lessen the "pain" that the man is complaining about, doesn't even look like more than a scratch. Back in Twelve, there were children who had lost limbs coming to us, who didn't shed a tear. I guess it's different in the Capitol, then. And the other Gamemakers must be stupid; there are loads of very, very useful healing supplies here - bandages, pain relievers, antiseptic, way better than the homemade salves we use at home.

I feel like he's overreacting. Mother and I have seen much worse patients who haven't even reacted, faces blank and impassive. Yet, it's only a mere scrape at best, and this Gamemaker is sobbing and crying. How lazy must life in the Capitol be; I'd like to see them try and live in District Twelve.

A quick pain reliever salve with some leaves, some weird clear liquid to clean the wound, some quick salve, and a bandage, that's all it takes. Maybe the other Gamemakers were too drunk to do anything except laugh and gather near the injured one, but the problem was fixed, thank goodness. But how did he get injured? Maybe he scraped his leg on the table's leg, that's probably it, I think.

The Gamemaker whose leg I just bandaged and took care of doesn't even acknowledge me, and I figure they're all just too drunk to care.

So I leave, anxiety trickling down my back, gaining and gaining as I walk farther away. There is nothing left to do, I don't know what's left to do. Leaving was a bad idea, but it was the only one I had, and it isn't doing any favors for the waterfall of anxiety washing over me.

What a fail. I'll probably get a three if I'm lucky. Katniss would have gotten a seven, at least, and way more sponsors than I would have. I wonder how Peeta coped...

That thought sends a jolt through me as I look around the district suite. And I'm snapped out of my daydreaming as I realize that there are no one except the Avoxes on this floor. I have no idea what happened, but I'm sure this isn't right, and the eerie quiet is getting to me. It's so silent, it's creepy. I'm not used to this, there's always Effie's high pitched voice in the background with that hideous Capitol accent, sounds of Haymitch retching in the sleek bathroom audible most of the time, sounds of Cinna and Portia conversing quietly. But I hear nothing. Sprinting out the door and racing to the elevator, I hit the rooftop button, not wanting to be involved in whatever's happening, but wanting to take a breath of fresh air.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I feel like it must be a test, must be an extension of the "training session" with the Gamemakers, but when I reach the rooftop, feeling the cool breeze blow across my sweaty, damp skin, it's just as empty, lonely, silent, as the District 12 floor. Think, Primrose, think. What the heck happened, and what is going on?

I peer over the bar, probably to stop tributes from falling, and look down. The Capitol is so bright, lights flashing everywhere, and I think I see District 12, if I look far enough, but that's mere hallucination. I'm so caught up in my wonder that I fail to notice the ding of the elevator, the footsteps, and eventually, the gun against my back.

"Don't move," a gruff voice tells me, from behind. There's a pressure against my back, and I still, both out of fear and out of shock.

Maybe I can fall over, there seems to be water down there, it'll probably cushion my fall, I suppose. I won't die for sure like I will if this gun goes off, though.

"Now, Primrose Everdeen, what do you have to say about Peeta?"

I flinch. They're asking me about Peeta? I answer it, afraid for my own life, cowering under both fear, and slight exaggeration, playing my cute and innocent 12-year-old side. If there's anything that will get me out of here alive, it's that... possibly.

"Yes? He's my district partner and friend," I reply, shivering a little.

Their breath puffs out irritably on my neck. "We are aware," they say, voice cutting. "But tell us...more."

What do they want me to say? All I want is to go back home, is that too much to ask? But of course, I know it is, at least in the messed up world of Panem that we're living in right now. Someday, maybe someone will rebel against the Capitol, but that day will likely never come.

They must have noticed that wistfulness in my eyes to go back to an imperfectly perfect home with perfectly imperfect people, and rebellion and hatred for the "perfectly" flawed nation, as the barrel digs even deeper and harder against my back.

"This is your last chance, or else you'll be thrown over the side to make it looked like you committed suicide. Perfectly good reason to, as well."

"B-But... the Capitol needs me for their games!" I shout in indignation. They can't possibly retract a tribute from the Hunger Games, right? There would have to be too much cover-up. "And Peeta and my sister were close - that's all, I swear!"

"On your life?" the same gruff voice replies, with daggered amusement. After my failure to respond, she amends, "She's innocent, she knows nothing about Peeta's death."

I don't even register that they killed Peeta, until she said so, and even now, I'm still too terrified for myself to think for him. For a second, one pleasuring second, I think they're going to let me go. But then comes a second voice, a female one bristling with cold annoyance. "You mean she was, before you just revealed classification level 10 secrets. Now we have to get rid of her."

I try to play dumb. "What just happened?"

"Ain't gonna work on me, kiddo. You're 'only' twelve, but I was already up and targeting people for the Capitol at that age."

They heave me over the bar and throw me over it. For a second, I'm free falling, death so close, eyes closed, bracing for the impact. Instead, I'm shocked, figuratively, and literally. My body feels completely electrocuted, and I think I actually was. I'm thrown back up into the air, back onto the roof, where the unsuspecting kidnappers have their backs turned.

I basically splatter onto the deck, frozen with fear and shock.

"Did you hear that?"

My blood freezes cold as they turn around, back at me, and I finally get a look at their faces.

Of course, I practically expected them to look like this - Two big and bulky, a man and a woman, clearly not hired for their brain. They converse for seconds before reaching to a decision, and I now note that there are actually three of them, one I missed earlier, tiny figure standing in the shadows of the larger... goons, let's say. She walks up, hands whirling with motion. She must be an Avox, I realize, but why are they listening to her? Well, not listening, but paying attention to the strange hand signals she uses.

She approaches me, much to the chagrin of the others, as they grumble and scratch their hands. The woman who spoke with cold annoyance earlier gently hands her a notepad. The Avox woman takes it, dark fingers handling it, before scratching something down. She kneels in front of me, holding up the paper so I can see it.

It's written in curvy script, and I realize it's in a different tongue. Grasping my confusion, she smiles quietly before scratching something again, this time in English.

It read "Ana," on it, most likely her name. "We apologize for the rough manner in which you were handled, we were merely following the orders we had been given. These buffoons," at this part, she turned to glare affectionately at the two behind her, who muttered something sheepishly, "had forgotten about the force field, and had just thrown you off the building quite roughly. We apologize, but we still have to carry out our orders. However, we can promise you a painless death."

Ana reaches into her bag, pulling out a syringe. She says something in her hand motions, but my tired and bruised mind does not realize what's about to happen in time.

I struggle to recall what she said, brain working on overtime, knowing that some part must have been important.

Painless, that's what she said. But what else, afterwards?

I know this is important, this could do with death and not even having a chance of returning home. Katniss must have known.

And at my call, imaginary Katniss appears. "They want to kill you, Prim."

I know she's a figment of my own imagination, but I can't help but let a smile of relief touch my face, and I know what I must do.

Escape.

And so that's how I find myself on the floor for what seems like the thousandth time today, slipping out from underneath her arm only to trip on her foot. Why must I be so clumsy sometimes?

The woman stops with the large needle, and the three converse. I hear "change of tactics" and "manipulation," but my slow mind doesn't process them at all and Katniss doesn't appear again. Finally, they stop talking, their murmurs fading away, and surround me again.

"It's all right, Primrose, you can go back to your suite," the originally harsh female says with a surprising gentleness. I'm surprised she's this nice - she definitely wasn't earlier, and I would think she's faking if not for my irrational thinking as of now.

"Will Haymitch, Effie, and Peeta be there as well?"

She hesitates, for a second, but regains her composure. "Yes. Yes, they will."

I know she's lying for sure. Moments ago, they said that they killed Peeta. But I have nowhere else to go if I don't go with them, if I don't trust them. So I follow.

A/N: Heyy everyone, Tigress (and panda-nati) here. Surprise, surprise, we've written a longer chapter this time! It's 2258 words, not including the author's note, so hehe. We hope you enjoy reading, and watch out for the mild cliffhanger ;P But next chapter will be amazing and we might need trigger warnings for violence so you'll see ;) Have a nice day!