When I open my eyes, all I see is whiteness. I try turning my head to see where exactly I am but I find that I can't move my head; in fact, I can't move anything. I can feel the straps tying my wrists to the bed I'm lying on, the same goes for my ankles. I feel trapped. I am trapped. Where am I?

A voice, belonging to the man standing behind me, brings all my memories back in an instant. I'm happy I can't see him, his voice alone is good enough to make me shiver.

"Welcome back, miss Mason."

I swallow hard, which is surprisingly painful, to remove the anger and fear in my throat.

"How are we feeling today?" Snow asks me.

"Good," I answer. Even speaking hurts like hell. And for the record, I don't feel good, I feel awful.

"I hope so, miss Mason. I am not in the mood to play games today."

Says the man who enjoys watching his precious Hunger Games.

"No," I say, "You'd rather have others play them for you."

His face appears above mine so suddenly I gasp. A large, red line is going from his brow to his chin.

"I take it you don't remember giving me one of your souvenirs?" he says, pointing his finger at the wound.

I did that to his face? Wow, congratulations Johanna.

I'm still wondering where I am. How long have I been unconscious? Or doing things that I can't remember?

Snow continues speaking. "We had no idea the sedatives we gave you would have such an effect when combined with the tracker-jacker venom. It was…interesting. You almost resembled our dearest miss Cresta when she saw her district partner's head rolling over the floor all those years ago."

When hearing Annie's name, I get a bad feeling. Has the rebellion thought about her? They must've had a plan for her since Finnick is in it and she's, well, his girlfriend.

"You look like you have some questions. Fire away, miss Mason."

I stay silent. I'm scared out of my wits here but I won't give him everything he wants.

"Fine. I'll just answer your unspoken questions."

This is going to be bad, I know it.

"We know about the rebellion. We know who is in it. We have taken some important pieces of your little game into custody. You, miss Mason, are one of them."

"Who else?"

I wish my voice had sounded a lot fiercer.

Snow just smiles at me. It's a sickening smile which makes me want to put my mark on the other half of his face.

"Let's just say we have enough…leverage."

Oh god, they have Annie. I'm absolutely sure about this. Finnick is in 13, otherwise Snow would've tried something. They have Annie. Who else?

"Miss Mason, if you don't mind, we are going to ask you a few questions."

"I thought you already knew everything. Why am I still here? If you have it all figured out, then kill me or let me go."

Snow puts his finger on my lips to silence me. I fight the urge to bite it.

"Tut tut, Johanna. You are very important to me, you have always been."

I can't help myself: I snort.

"Well," Snow continues, "there are still a few holes in our theory. For example, there's the love that Katniss cherishes for our dearest Peeta Mellark. That's still an issue. Then, let's see, we have the matter of Finnick Odair. I've always known he wasn't the sweet little boy he pretended to be…"

My stomach turns at the words 'sweet little boy'. It makes Finnick sound stupid and ignorant. But it also proves my point about him being in 13.

"And escorts, prep-teams, stylists… What do they mean to you?"

Snow looks at me expectantly.

"That was a question?" I ask.

"Yes. Answer it. What do they mean to you Victors?"

I can't say they mean something to us. The Capitol will torture them for information on us, on the rebellion, if they think Victors are close them. Some of them are in the rebellion themselves. So whichever Victor they have captured alongside me, will be in danger for torture too. There's only one solution.

"The Capitol doesn't mean anything to us, nor do its citizens."

Snow smiles at me again. Everything about his smile screams danger!

"Well, in that case…"

He looks up and snaps his fingers at someone I can't see. My bed is moving until it's in a chair-like position. I can see where I am now but I have no clue. It looks like a hospital/basement/prison.

A peacekeeper enters my room, dragging along someone with a black hood over his head. I don't know who it is.

Snow snaps his fingers again. The peacekeeper pulls the hood off the man's head and shoots a hole in his forhead.

My scream stays silent. Shock is the only thing I feel right now.

I have Cinna's blood on my hands.

…

…

"Well, miss Mason, we'll leave you to it now. You can try to apologize to our dear Cinna but I doubt he'll listen."

Snow leaves my room and for the next nine hours, all I can do is look into Cinna's eyes, his dead eyes, and know that it's my fault they're not looking back into mine.

"Goodmorning Johanna, how was your night?"

Snow's voice booms through my cell and I close my eyes, hoping that when I open them, I'll be in District 7 or on the seventh or fourth floor at the training centre.

I didn't sleep last night, I just laid still on my poor excuse for a bed, looking at the humid walls.

I've been in here for two weeks now. At first, all I could feel was the pain and the cold.

Now, I only feel pain.

Snow's hand grips my arm and turns me around, making me fall off my bed.

"Stand up," he says impatiently.

I do as he says but once my face is on the same level as his, I spit in it.

He wipes my saliva calmly off his face. "Well, miss Mason, you just earned yourself an extra course of breakfast."

My eyes widen and I start trembling with fear.

Two peacekeepers enter my cell and drag me with them to the most dreaded room in all of Panem.

The door opens and reveals a basin with water and a lot of wires next to it. I start to scream.

Water. Cold. Pain. Shocks. Water. Another shock.

"So, Johanna. What are the rebellion's plans?" Snow asks once I've recovered a little bit from the latest shock.

"I don't know."

He sighs. "Give her another one."

Before I can protest or scream, I'm under water again.

I don't know how all of this works but it feels like I get shocked every second. I have the feeling my head is going to explode, that my limbs are going to fall off, that I'm about to die.

Oh yes please, let me die. That would be nice.

The screeching of metal doors opening makes me shiver involuntary.

It's been almost four weeks now. I think. I was gone for a few days so I don't know exactly how long I've been in here. It must be almost four weeks. Isn't it about time the rebels came for me?

I can hear him scream again. Loud. Too loud. My hands over my ears won't keep out the agonizing screams.

I've always known the Capitol was cruel. Avoxes, the Games, the so-called Peacekeepers… They're living proof of the Capitol's brutality. But this is something I've never seen before, never heard of before, never experienced before.

Physical torture is a bitch.

Mental torture is the worst bitch of all.

I wish I could die. But they won't let me. They bring me to the verge of death, ready to drop me into the deep luring ravine. But they always bring me back.

For what?

So I can hear Peeta scream his lungs out, calling Katniss' name? So I can see how Annie zones out every time they come near her? How I lose my mind when I hear footsteps in the hallway, ready to open my, Peeta's or Annie's cell door? So they can burn me with water and fire at the same time?

What is it that they want?

"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?" I suddenly yell out of nowhere, banging my fists against the concrete walls.

See? I'm not making this stuff up. I am losing my mind. I'm totally spinning out of control. I wish I could zone out like Annie.

For once in my life, I wish I wasn't me.

"We want answers, Johanna."

I turn around but I collapse in an instant. I'm way too weak to be punching anything, let alone a wall. I fall down every second I try something that involves more energy than sleeping. It's easier to just stay on the floor and not move.

"We want answers, Johanna," Snows says again. "But you won't give them. So we shock you. And we will keep shocking you until you give us some answers."

I'm still out of breath from the 'exercises' I just did. Still I manage to squeeze out the words that are more true than the Truth itself.

"I hate you."