The pain is getting really terrible now. Ever since my torturers showed me that video this morning, of Katniss as the Mockingjay, their attacks have been getting more and more savage.

I'm not sure what the difference is. Maybe it's just that they're so very angry. All I know is that it hurts a lot, and it's getting very, very hard for me to hold on.

Hours later, my torturers unlock me long enough to turn me facedown.

All at once, my back isn't pinned against this hard table anymore. The sudden, physical relief is almost painfully intense. But it's quickly overwhelmed by confusion.

What are they doing? Have they decided to set me free?

Then, as they fasten my wrists and ankles back into the cuffs, as they tighten the hard plastic strap across my upper back behind my shoulders, I realize what's going on. They aren't letting me go. They've just found a new way to hurt me. Now I'm lying with the front of my body pressed against the table, my face turned to the side. Somehow, I'm feeling even more defenseless this way. And after a moment, I realize why.

Now I don't have the choice to watch whatever they're going to do to me.

And now, the skin and muscles of my back are tightening with fear. Because of course, that's where they're going to hurt me next. And I don't have any idea what they're going to do.

Actually, I have all kinds of ideas. And that wild speculation is only making it worse. But there's no way I can stop my mind from guessing what's about to happen. I'm just too scared. There's no way I can still my thoughts, and they're starting to go all over the place.

What are they going to do? Are they going to cut me? Are they going to use... I don't know what to call most of the weapons they've been attacking me with. All my mind can do is to call up images of the different wounds they've inflicted on me. Images of the devices they used to cause them. Vivid memories of the pain each of those wounds involved...

Or will they try something new?

Will I be whipped, the way Gale was? Probably not. It's too dangerous. I could bleed to death, and they don't want that. They want me alive so I can break.

They haven't started to hurt me yet. I think they must know how afraid I am. They're using that fear to make this worse for me. They're using this delay to make me so frightened I can hardly think straight...

And suddenly I realize they're using it for something else, too.

They're using it to get their weapon ready.

I can hear them working in the back corner of the room. They're doing something different. These are sounds I haven't heard before. They aren't just getting weapons out of their tool cabinet. This is something completely new.

And with a sudden, terrible feeling of realization, I find myself noticing another sensation. Not with my ears, or my eyes, or my body... but with my nose. With my sense of smell.

My whole body goes still and quiet with fear. Because this smell is something I recognize.

It isn't something I work with very often. But there's no mistaking the subtle scent that fills the room. It's the sharp, tangy smell of greatly heated metal.

I'm not going to be whipped. I'm going to be burned.

Now I'm even more scared because I don't really know exactly how much this is going to hurt. I've been burned before, of course. Everyone has, in the little accidents of everyday life. But it's always been small and insignificant, nothing like this deliberate attack is going to be.

And I've always been able to pull away a fraction of a second after I first felt the heat.

This time I won't be able to. And it's almost impossible to keep my breathing steady when my heart is pounding so hard now that it feels like it might slam its way out of my chest.

Too soon, much before I could have had any chance to prepare myself or try to calm myself down, I hear my torturers walking toward me. I'm fighting not to completely panic now.

They're going to burn me and I won't be able to stop them -

I had no idea that thought was going to be so frightening. But then, I had no idea this was even going to happen until about thirty seconds ago.

The men are coming into view now. The Peacekeeper is walking ahead of his assistants, carrying a long, iron rod that ends in a flat, dimly glowing oval. There's just the faintest red tinge behind the blackness of the metal. As he brings it closer, I can see that the air around that glowing metal is shimmering faintly with heat...

And he's about to actually touch me with that!

I don't think I've ever felt this frantic in my life. I can barely even keep from screaming now. Even though he hasn't actually caused me any pain yet with this awful weapon, it's just so terrifying...!

And if they break me -

I can't let that happen! No matter how much this hurts!

But I'm just so scared!

Desperately, I close my eyes. It's the only way I can protect myself, or even pretend to. I don't want to see the Peacekeeper walking toward me. I don't want to see the hard, utterly merciless expression he's wearing on his face. I don't want to see him carrying that horrible weapon -

But he's carrying it right toward me, whether I watch him or not. And I know that in another moment, no matter what I do, he's going to attack me with it.

I feel so utterly helpless.

The Peacekeeper stops behind me, so that even if I opened my eyes, I wouldn't be able to see him unless I turned my head. And even then, I still really couldn't see what he's going to do to me. Not when I'm lying facedown like this.

I'm definitely going to be able to feel it, though. And right now, I can feel my whole body trembling with these deep waves of terrified shaking. Which I'm sure he must be able to see almost as clearly as I can feel it. And I'm sure he absolutely loves that sight, and the knowledge that I'm this terrified.

But there's nothing I can do about that.

My torturers pull aside the thin fabric of my hospital gown, letting the cool air of the room wash across my suddenly unprotected back. Even that soft, whispering touch feels almost painful when I'm so terribly afraid. I fight hard and just manage to keep from gasping aloud at the shock and fear of that sensation, but I can't keep my whole body from flinching in terror.

Then I almost cry out, barely strangling off a choked scream deep in my throat, as the Peacekeeper presses the iron against my back without any further warning. There's just this unbelievable spot of searing, burning agony, just above the right side of my waist.

Someone help me!

That's my first panicked thought, as soon as I feel the agony blazing against my skin. But of course, there's no one who's going to help me. There's no one who can. No one except for these men, and they certainly don't want to.

If they did, I think frantically, they wouldn't be torturing me! They wouldn't be burning me like this!

I'm so terrified! I can't believe this is happening! How could anyone do this to me? To anyone?

Help me! Why can't someone help me?

It hurts so much more than I imagined it could! How is this possible?

How could anything hurt like this?!

I'm utterly frantic with fear.

And it's not just the pain itself that's terrifying me. There's just something so horribly wrong about the sensation of this searing metal actually touching my body. I don't even want to think about the damage it's doing me, but I can't stop picturing this awful burn I'm going to have now. From glowing metal, touching my skin! It's not something that should ever happen to anyone -

But it's happening to me right now. And I don't know if I can keep from screaming for another instant.

It just hurts so much!

This is the closest I've come to crying out.

In all the time I've been here, this single burn is the most terrible fight I've ever had to face.

I need this to stop!

But it isn't stopping. And I know I can't let myself scream. I can't let myself be broken by this! I can't let -

Katniss!

I can't let them show Katniss - me breaking - she'd be heartbroken!

And the jabberjays...

Wait a minute, there are no more jabberjays... right?

I can't think! I just need this to end!

It's only a few seconds before the Peacekeeper finally stops burning me. I know it can't have been any longer than that, even though it felt so very much longer. That's just what time has always been doing to me here.

I collapse forward onto the table. Or however much I can collapse when I'm barely able to move at all in the first place. My head falls down, the left side of my face landing against the hard table. My body goes limp. Trembling. I'm shaken and exhausted from those brief seconds of awful agony.

And that burn is still hurting. It's hurting terribly, even now that the iron is gone.

I expect the pain to fade, and for a few seconds it does. Then there's a gradual, slow feeling of warmth spreading from the burn. It's almost soothing for another couple of seconds, then it quickly builds into a fiery agony. Something about this new, glowing pain is even worse than when he burned me in the first place. It just doesn't go away, and it keeps getting stronger.

I feel an overwhelming need for cool water, or ice, to soothe the pain of the burn. What I feel instead is another searing patch of anguish as the Peacekeeper burns me again in another spot on my back.

My body arches, as much as it can in the rigid cuffs that restrain me. It's fighting this pain on reflex, and there's nothing I can do about it any more than I can about the cuffs themselves.

Finally, after ages that must last all of several seconds, he takes the burning weapon away. Again I feel the few seconds of relief, then the soft tickling warmth that grows too quickly into awful fire.

I'm gasping with the pain, fighting to keep my agony silent. My breath wrenches in and out of my lungs. Every second is a desperate effort not to scream.

The side of my face is pressed hard into the unyielding surface of the table. My eyes are still closed. There's no point in looking when I wouldn't see anything but the table, the wall and the floor, anyway.

"How very interesting," the Peacekeeper says slowly, walking around to stand in front of my face.

I can hear his heavy footsteps, then silence as he stops again. I want to open my eyes and look at him, but the tiny bit of concentration that would take might leave me without quite enough focus to keep from screaming.

After a thoughtful pause, he speaks again. "This is finally getting to you, I think, Cinna."

The pain is so intense I can't even imagine living through it for another second. I can't breathe without almost crying out. I'm completely pushed to the edge. It's unbelievable that anything could hurt this much.

Getting to me is the understatement of all time.

Without warning, he switches his approach. His voice goes soft again.

"Talk to me, Cinna," he says. Maybe it shouldn't, but it catches me off guard. I haven't heard this for hours. They haven't asked me any questions for some time. They've just tortured me.

I shiver inside in spite of my burns. I had forgotten that I have a choice. This was the most awful possible time to remind me.

I have a choice.

I could stop this, all of this, right now by telling him everything he wants to know. Everything about the rebellion. Everything about my friends, so he could hurt them the way he's hurting me...

There is no way I will do that. I am in so much pain that I don't feel like I can possibly stand it any longer, but I'm looking inside myself and I'm still finding strength.

I can still do this. It's incredibly hard, but I can still keep going. I still have the ability to resist.

I will not let him hurt my friends.

But it's suddenly a lot harder than it was before, because now instead of just hanging on, at every second I'm having to keep on deliberately making that choice.

I shudder violently, wanting to sob with frustration and pain. I'm worn past exhaustion by the awful effort of fighting all of this for so long. I focus on forcing myself to breathe in and out, in and out, as evenly as I can. My thoughts slow down, keeping time with the rhythm of my breathing.

I will not...

...let him hurt...

...my friends.

It would be a good place to stop, to rest, to be left alone for the night of what has already been an interminable day. But my torturer is not going to allow that. He speaks again, and his voice is cold with disapproval.

"Still nothing?" he asks.

Something very cold washes over me. I find the strength to open my eyes.

My torturer is staring down at me with icy, angry eyes of his own. He looks almost bored, and it's more horrible than any other expression he could wear.

"Cinna, you are really starting to frustrate me. It's so hard to get anything out of you. Even now, you're still not telling me anything." He sighs and shakes his head. It's the gesture of a person thwarted in his jaded search for entertainment.

"At first it was a challenge I was looking forward to," he goes on. "But it's not fun anymore. I'm starting to think you were right. There may not be anything else you're going to tell us. Or at least not soon enough for the knowledge to be of any use. All your information is already weeks out of date, after all."

"I don't have any information," I say, totally exhausted. "I've told you and told you and told you. I don't know anything. I don't know any other rebels. I hope there are a lot of them. Even more than we saw in the video! I hope the whole country is rising up against you right now. If they are, if my Mockingjay dress had anything to do with it, then it's worth me being here. But I can't tell you anything about it because I don't know."

My torturer is slowly shaking his head.

"It doesn't even matter, Cinna," he tells me. "I'm tired of playing this game. So I'll tell you what we might decide to do. I'll have to run this past President Snow, of course. But I'm starting to think you'd make a very good Avox."

My heart closes in on itself as I hear this threat. That fear has always been hiding somewhere in the back of my mind, all through everything else. It's impossible not to think about that now and then, when it's such a ready answer to any sort of crime or rebellion here in Panem.

But the Peacekeeper isn't done yet. "And..." he adds in a terrible, considering voice, pausing horribly...

"I don't think you'll need your fingers."