Mockingjay in Peeta's Point of View

Sorry it took a while guys! Been doing a lot of reading this week, rather than writing. Not to mention this is a pretty loaded chapter!

Chapter Ten

Morning seems to come by before I've had time to close my eyes properly, and at five in the morning we're all heading upstairs. After some leftover breakfast, Tigris is making us all up to fit in with the crowd outside. After the hour is over, we look exactly like the refugees that are filing to the centre of the Capitol.

"Never underestimate the power of a brilliant stylist," I say gently.

Cressida and Pollux disappear through the door first, and next will be Katniss and Gale. I glance up at her, just as Katniss is turning to me with my key, unlocking the cuffs around my wrists. I rub the numbness out of my wrists and flex them to taste the new freedom. My eyes stay on her face, wanting to drink in her features before I leave the shop, and face the possibility of not seeing her again.

"Listen. Don't do anything foolish." She tells me earnestly.

"No. It's last-resort stuff. Completely." I try to reassure her. I plan to move through the crowd quietly whilst keeping an eye on Katniss and Gale, only causing some kind of distraction should they fall into some trouble.

Katniss' arms are suddenly around my neck. I only hesitate briefly before my own find their way around her waist. I hold her close to me, savour her warmth that I somehow feel through all of our clothes. All too soon she is letting go of me, and we're stepping back from one another. My arms feel cold.

"It's time," Tigris says. Katniss kisses her cheek quickly, covers her face, and disappears into the crowd outside with Gale. The door closes again, cutting them away from me. Tigris and I wait in a tense silence, and then she's turning to me with a nod. It's my turn. "You gonna be okay?" She asks me, with concern in her strange face. I feel bad for my first impression upon seeing her. Tigris is not grotesque at all, she is a wonderful woman with a strong heart.

I smile and nod, squeezing her hand gently in thanks. I pull the scarf up to cover my nose and mouth, and step out into the biting cold. The crowd fall in around me, barely even noticing my presence. I scan those in front of me, looking for the figures of Gale and Katniss, but I don't see them anywhere. A bubble of panic. How am I supposed to know if they need a distraction if I cannot see them?

Calm down, just keep going. I urge myself silently. I might see them still, perhaps if I sped up...

The sound of gunfire is loud and explodes over the crowd. A few yards in front of me, there are people falling to the ground, pools of red spreading around their bodies. I duck into the doorway of nearby shop, looking around frantically and holding the scarf up over my face. Peacekeepers? No, it makes no sense for them to start firing upon the crowd. People are still falling up and down the street, the others are screaming and falling over one another in their scrabble to escape.

People are screaming, gunfire rings in my ears, and my hands tremble violently. I pull them into my chest, tightening my hands into fists and closing my eyes tightly. I have to fight it off, or maybe get back to Tigris' shop. The darkness fights to take over, forcing onto me images that I'm sure aren't true. Other memories comes to mind instead. Katniss. Her lips on mine. Her arms around my neck. Her warmth. The trembling in my nerves begins to calm down. I can almost drown out the screams around me.

I try to think clearly. The rebels were nearby this morning, only a few blocks away. The gunfire had been aimed at the crowd, where the Peacekeepers were mingling. The rebels must have closed in on us. The fight is nearly at the heart of the Capitol, and Katniss is right in the middle of it. This single thought is enough to push me to my feet, using the wall as a defence against the men and their guns. I fight my way forward, up through the crowd.

She won't stop, I know she won't. Katniss will do what she can in order to get to Snow. For some reason, having the rebels here makes me think that she's even less safe than before. I wonder if the old me would have been more trustworthy. Or perhaps this is part of the old me, not trusting anyone when it comes to Katniss' safety...

"Hey, aren't you..." Some boy is looking at me suspiciously. I have to push him aside so that he bowls into some other citizen, then hustling on through the crowd to put distance between us. I hold the scarf up over my face. It's even more dangerous to be me right now. People are panicked, and I would become someone to blame, a face to beat. The snow is helping, it's falling thicker and visibility is getting worse. This also means I don't know who is friend or foe until I come upon them.

There are more screams up ahead, people are crying and moaning around me, and the sound of gunfire is everywhere. Katniss' warms lips on mine, her arms around my neck. I have to close my eyes for a moment, concentrate hard on these memories to stop the trembling before it spreads. Constantly fighting the onslaught of dark memories that try to surface.

I will not let him take over me. This is my body, it is not a weapon. It becomes a mantra in my head. I will not let him take over me, I will not let him take over me...

In the next street, I come upon the bodies of people who look like they have been severely burned. Their skin is a terrible pink, and nobody is moving. Except the rebels. They seem to have poured in over the street, taking cover wherever there is any, shouting out about someone marching towards us. Peacekeepers, I think. I have to get out of here fast. If the Peacekeepers are coming to meet the rebels in this street, then nobody is safe. I scrabble to the other side of the street, keeping low and moving quick. There are still refugees wandering the street somewhat aimlessly, not knowing where to go. Occasionally, one will fall dead in the bursts of gunfire.

I make it through and round the corner, away from the rebels and their guns. There are more dead refugees littering the streets, but their deaths seem to have been more gruesome. There's blood, a lot of it. I glance down at a figure by my feet, and notice the blood streaks down his face, starting at his eyes and nose and mouth. He seem to have bled from every orifice upon his head. I move on quickly.

I'm about to move on to the next street, when the sound of boots stamping against the ground stops me in my tracks. I don't stop to think, I dive to the side and wedge myself between an overturned car and a shop door. Sitting in the dark corner, I make myself as small as I can and pull the scarves over my face so that only my eyes are exposed. They march past me, concentrating only on the street ahead of them. Nobody looks in the darkest corners for a trembling boy.

Somewhere up ahead, I'm aware of a large cracking sound, deep and loud. The ground beneath me shudders, and I dare not move until it is still again. The Peacekeepers have moved on and the ground is still again, so I stand and move forwards. Behind me, the sound of gunfire intensifies and the screams increase. It would seem the rebels and the Peacekeepers have met one another.

I almost fall beneath the ground, but manage to scrabble back and find flat ground again. I stare down the street ahead of me, where a deep hole has opened up in the centre of the street. This must have been the source of that cracking sound and the trembling. I wonder how many were swallowed up, if Katniss and Gale had made it this far … I swallow hard and try not to think about it.

Keeping close to the shops, I edge my way along the street, going slowly even though there are a few steps between the hole and I. Further on down the street, a car balances on the edge, swaying as it tries to find a balance. I could crawl beneath, but there's a chance the car would crush me and there isn't enough room to go around it. It doesn't take all of my strength to push on the vehicle before it slides over the edge, but I don't stop to watch it go.

I carry on moving, come up against no more trials on the last leg to the President's mansion. I glance around the trickle of refugees that are heading in the same direction, trying to pick out the red cloak that Katniss had put on. I fall in with a small band of refugees, keeping my gaze away from the Peacekeepers who run past us. We reach the next intersection, where the small group of refugees slow and come to a stop. I glance up, readying myself for whatever horrors the Capitol are unleashing now, but realise that I'm standing in the City Circle. Dead ahead is the President's mansion.

There's a lot of people in the centre, in various stages of shock. I have to make my way around a lot of crying and wailing people, avoid those who wander around with the shock in their eyes, and sometimes step over any who sit and ignore the snow that builds around them. I'm about halfway when I notice the barricade up ahead, and the people within. It takes me a moment to realise who these people are. Children. All of them. The shield that protects the President.

"The rebels! The rebels!" People are suddenly shouting, there's commotion somewhere off to the left and everyone slams into one another. I'm pushed back by somewhere, and trip up over a figure huddled on the ground behind me. I have to scramble to my feet before I'm crushed under the feet of the refugees.

A hovercraft appears above us with the Capitol seal emblazoned over the side. We all watch as it rains down silver parachutes on the children in the barricade. Their faces seem to light up, making the connection between these parachutes and food and gifts. The Hunger Games. The children pull at the strings, grabbing any parachute nearby, and the hovercraft is gone again. Nothing happens for a few seconds, and then some of the parachutes explode at the same time.

The snow is red, the crowd cries out for the dead and dying children. I elbow people out of my way, trying to move closer towards the barricade. The Peacekeepers are pulling at the barricades, making an open path, and people in white uniforms swarm to the aid of the children. The uniforms that they wear are not of Peacekeepers, but of the rebel medics from District Thirteen.

The crowd seems to roar in their grief, but somewhere in the bodies I hear a name. It comes from my right, and push my way in that direction.

"Prim! Prim!" I don't understand why she's calling for her sister, because surely the young girl cannot be here in this crowd? I push my way forward, and shout her name. But she either doesn't hear me, or is too distracted. I can't see her, I'm too tightly packed into the group of refugees, so I turn and push my way towards the barricade instead, where the crowd begins to thin.

Another explosion from the barricades. The rest of the parachutes. Fire engulfs the children and the medics, and shoots out towards the crowd. A burning figure catches my attention, and I stare in horror, my feet frozen in their spot. My father falls to his knees, the fire burning away at his torso, and slowly crawling up his face. The skin seems to melt away, his hair is singed away in a flash, and he's on the floor now, his lips forming my name.

I blink away the tears in my eyes, and the figure is gone. There's nothing there but snow and a bleeding woman. This all happens in the space of a second, and then the fire reaches me. The right side of my body seems to be aflame, and a scream erupts from my throat. There are more screams from the people around me, but none of them can help. The flames spread up my arm and I fall, trying to quench them with my hand, but it just burns some of the flesh on that hand too.

My neck burns and there is only agonising pain, my flesh burning away. The flames spread across my face and I can take it no longer. I succumb to the darkness, to anything that will rid me of this pain. There's a rage as fiery as the flames that threaten to engulf my face, but instead I fall into unconsciousness, where the pain tries to follow.

There's a lot of drifting in and out, of welcoming the darkness and writhing in the agony of consciousness. I don't know how long I am trapped by my own pain, unable to find my way back to reality, to open my eyes and move my limbs. Eventually, there's a new feeling. Morphling. It swims through my veins and relieves me of the agony, relieves me of everything that had troubled me. When the morphling takes over, it is just me and my own darkness, ignoring the sounds and smells that I slowly become aware of.

One day I wake and the room is so white, so intense and I can smell the medicine that lathers my skin, and beneath that, the smell of my own flesh singed away. The doctors are always there, talking about creating new skin, manipulating cells, and how lucky I am to be alive. Their hands are on my face, touching the stinging flesh and as soon as they see I am awake, a new rush of sedative flows through the tubes in my body. I cannot be awake they say, they need me to be still.

They patch up my skin and I am left to live in my own dream world, where my father sits by my side and his face is not burnt, but he smiles at me in his own kind way. My brothers come too, and Lukail brings his new bride. They tell me how the wedding was a happy affair, and they were so sad I could not join them. Even my mother comes, although she doesn't say much to me. She stands across the room whilst I talk with my father and brothers, only nodding at me occasionally.

One day I wake up and there are only Doctors around my bed. I glance around them groggily, feeling the full pain that throbs over most of the right side of my body, the stinging pain in my face. I lift a hand and gingerly press my fingertips against the bandages on my face. Up my cheek, and around my eyebrow.

"You were lucky, Peeta. The flames almost got your eye, and most of your face, but it would seem the snow quenched the fire before it spread further."

"I was on fire once before," I say with my raspy voice. "But that fire just tickled me." I add, thinking of Cinna and his pretend fire. The Doctors glance at one another, unsure what to say to this. "W-what happened? Who … won?" I ask them hesitantly. I'm here in the Capitol, in one of their medical rooms, but they've kept me alive.

"President Snow has been captured, he is awaiting trial." One doctor tells me. Awaiting death, more like.

"And Katniss? Is she alive?" I recall her voice in the crowd, screaming for her sister.

"Soldier Everdeen is alive, and recovering from her own burns." They say no more, don't give me all of the information that I want. I have to wait until the next day, when Haymitch appears in my room. He looks at with me a suspicious and sullen expression.

"How you feeling, boy?"

"Like I was on fire," I rasp, and try to crack a smile. Any movement in my face makes it feel as if I am tearing the new skin, but it stays in tact so I carry on talking. "How is Katniss? Really?" I ask him, expecting an honest answer.

"She's got a few bad burns, like you. She … hasn't talked since she woke up, though." I frown a little.

"She's an Avox?" Haymitch shakes his head, and takes a seat beside my bed.

"No, her vocals are just fine. Doctor thinks she's choosing not to talk, kind of. A mental Avox. We think she … her sister was one of the medics sent to the City Centre, she was caught in the explosion." Haymitch pulls a face of grief, and possibly anger. I understand his feelings. Prim was just a child, she shouldn't have been sent to the front lines as a medic.

"And they think Katniss saw it all," I whisper, horrified at the thought. Remembering my father. That had been in my head though, I hadn't really seen him burning alive. No matter how real it had seemed.

Dr Aurelius starts to show up daily, telling me that he plans to work with me very hard until I've worked my way past the episodes. Tells me we're going to spend a lot of time together, and I can't help but think of Doctor Tylion and how he had said the same thing. I suppress a shudder.

Time passes by in something of a blur. I spend a lot of days heavily sedated or drugged up on morphling, teetering on the edge of madness and the pain. It seems like weeks before they finally pull me out of it, tell me that I must be careful with my new skin, but it is healing well and I am almost at full health. They let me feed myself, and I can even wander around the hospital room. There are times when they have to come in and sedate me again because the rage will suddenly explode inside of me, and I try to smash anything in my room, upturn the bed, find my way out. Some days I lay in the bed, refusing to move and ignoring the nurses and their food. I stare up at the ceiling and allow the grief to wash over me. Almost everybody I loved is dead, I have no family left, my friends have suffered, and now some of my skin is not even my own.

I think of Finnick, of his screams in his last moments whilst the mutts tore him apart. He had saved my life in the Quarter Quell, brought me back to life. But I had been useless and entirely unable to return the favour. Always my thoughts return to Mitchell. The soldier who have tried to stop me from killing Katniss, the soldier who had died because I couldn't control myself. He seems to always be there in the fringes of my mind, waiting to overwhelm me with guilt and grief.

One day Dr Aurelius walks in on me weeping, and after some coaxing I finally tell him about Mitchell, about how I am racked with guilt over his death. After telling him that, everything else just seems to fall from my lips automatically. I tell Dr Aurelius about my nightmares, of Doctor Tylion wavering over me with his syringe and malice in his smile, about what I remember in my time in the Capitol's hands, about the confusion over my own memories, ones that I'm certain are fake, and others that I do not know. I tell him of my family, and how it had been a long time after their passing before I was finally able to comprehend and grieve for them, of seeing my father burning in the City Circle. He sits and doesn't interrupt me, waiting until I've finished and taken a breath before he speaks.

"I'm going to help you get through this, Peeta. We're going to help you to deal with your grief." I believe him.

On the day of Snow's execution, someone draws a hot bath for me and I sink down into the water up to my neck, disguising the hideous burns on my body. I've barely examined the skin since waking up, and have refused any mirrors. I've caught glimpses of the puckered pink skin that stands out against my old white flesh. The new skin is still tender, and I have to be very slow and careful when scrubbing soap over it. It is only then that I allow myself to look at the patchwork of flesh. Up my arm, and along my side and ribs. The tender skin on my neck, across my cheek and up above my eye. I touch it all tentatively, washing it carefully. This is me now. The boy with an unstable mind, a fake leg and a hideous patchwork of pink and white skin.

I spend a long time sitting in the water before three people enter the room, timidly tell me that they are here to help me get ready for the events of the day. I will be expected to be present at Snow's execution, as will the others, and Katniss will draw the killing shot. They are hesitant to touch any skin, even though I insist that it barely hurts any more.

It's obvious that they're not actual stylists, but they do their best to make me resemble some sort of normalcy. They try their best on my face, but I can see how frustrated they are getting. The pink skin still clashes against my white.

"Leave it," I finally say. "There's nothing you can do for it." The three nod and step back. All they've done really is arrange my hair and file my nails, and make me look cleaner. Someone walks in the door and I turn, surprised to see Effie Trinket looking back at me. She doesn't look any different than before, except for a somewhat vacant look in her eyes, like there's a part of her mind that is stuck somewhere else.

"Effie, you're alive." I say in surprise.

"I am," she nods her head. "Now come on. We've got a big, big, big day ahead. Right now, they're awaiting you for a meeting." I follow her through the corridors that I haven't walked through yet. She leaves me in a room with a large table, where Haymitch, Johanna, Beetee, Annie and Enobaria are sat. They all glance up at me, and I take on of the remaining seats.

"Just Katniss to wait for now." Someone says.