As we walk we keep our eyes open for any cameras that may be lining the ceiling or walls of the corridor. Surprisingly, there aren't any visible ones from the looks of it. But if I know anything at all about the Capitol's technology, they are capable of anything. The cameras are most likely hidden beneath the surface of the concrete somehow.
"We'd have a better chance just taking the time we have and go hide somewhere else," I remark. There's no use waiting for the other guards to catch up with us.
Finnick doesn't answer me right away, so I pause my steps to look back at him. He's slowed down a lot and I've just now noticed the blood trailing from his nose. He must have been punched during our break-out.
"I don't think it'd help us," Finnick says. "They've already been called, so I'd say we're screwed either way. Maybe we can figure out where the others are, if they are here."
"They are," I blurt. "Or, at least some of them..."
Finnick narrows his eyes at me. "What exactly do you know that you aren't telling me?"
I swallow. I would have told him as soon as we'd woken up, but I can't bring myself to say it out loud. I can't bring myself to admit that it's true, that this could actually be happening to us, to Peeta.
"Well?" he asks.
I run my fingers along the side of the wall and begin taking more steps forward. The corridor ahead seems frightening and endless. "When I was waking up, before they brought me to your room, I heard some of them talking. They said something about... about Peeta. At least, I assume it was him they were talking about. They said that the physical pain I was enduring was nothing compared to the emotional pain I would feel watching 'him' be tortured senseless."
Finnick freezes beside me, his expression calculating. "Maybe they meant me. I mean, I know we aren't the closest, but we're on the same side here. That could be why they brought you to watch my session."
If only. "I don't know, Finnick. It really seemed like they meant him. We have to try to find him, just in case."
"We could get caught again! Do you really want to risk something like that, when we have no idea where he could be? We don't even know where we are!" he exclaims. His voice echoes loudly down the corridor and we both lower our voices.
"He could be with Annie, Finnick. They could have taken her while we were gone, so that they'd have you at a weak point," I tell him. I can't believe he'd even suggested leaving without the others, but he'll understand once I've sunk to his level.
Sure enough, his eyes widen with the realisation that I could be right. Annie could just as well be in danger as well. I can see the struggle going on in his head. This is a fight or flight situation, and wasting any more time here could be what kills us. But we both know that we can't leave the others to die. Their lives are just as important as our own. Peeta's life is more important than my own.
Finnick licks his lips nervously and nods. "Where do we start?" he whispers.
Tightening my hold on the gun, I point it towards the place we first came from, back down the corridor where our cells were. Finnick and I's weren't too far apart, so the others must be close-by. He agrees.
We half walk, half jog back towards our starting point, trying to be as silent as possible in our bare feet. My gown blows behind me as we move and I wonder briefly where they've put my arena clothes. I long for the stench and filfth of them, for the tight material on my limbs. I feel like I can scarcely move in something as flimsy as this. Finnick must feel the same way because in no time he's ripping the side off his gown, leaving him running in practically nothing but underwear. I do the same.
When we reach our cells, the guards are still lying there unconscious or dead, with small pools of blood around their wounds. Nothing else appears to have changed.
"Where are their back-up?" Finnick mumbles rhetorically. I wonder the same thing.
But it appears he'd spoken too soon, because a moment later I can hear voices and loud boots plumetting through the corridor we'd just come from.
"Shit," I gasp. Finnick wastes no time. He grabs my hand and we're running again through the darkness. It appears to be getting more and more narrow and cold as we move, and no other doors are lining the walls.
"This way!" a voice yells, his words bouncing off the walls. "I can hear them!"
My heart begins a frantic beating in my chest, like a bird caught under my skin. My breath hitches and I feel suddenly as if I am in the arena, running from Careers. Except this time I have no trees to climb and no bushes to hide in. Just the endless blackness of the corridor infront of me, without any escape whatsoever.
In this time I run faster than I've ever ran in my entire life. My legs seem to be carrying me through the hall, making it so that I don't even have to think to go as fast as a blur.
"Turn here," Finnick gasps, and ducks suddenly into a hole I hadn't even seen in the wall. How he had, I have no idea.
I launch myself after him and find that it isn't only a hidding place, but an entirely new corridor. This maze has just become even more complicated than it'd seemed.
"How'd you see that?" I pant, amazed but grateful. I can hear the men contemplating which way to turn, and splitting up. This is good; less work for us.
"I don't know," he answers. But there's something in his voice that for some reason makes me not believe him.
We sprint and turn down different corridors, changing direction until we're certain we've lost all of the guards on our backs. Their voices and feet have long since faded. They've turned the wrong way somewhere.
Exhausted, I slide down the side of the wall and try to calm my loud breathing. "Looks like we lost them," I say to Finnick, smiling slightly in relief.
He turns towards me and says wickedly, "Have we?" It's then I notice the glow in his eyes. The unnatural, crazed glow.
I move away from him, into a crouched position. "Finnick..."
And he pounces at me.
A fist connects with my jaw and I cry out, instinctively lashing out at the heavy weight on top of me. I hear my gun skid along the floor away from me in the back of my head, and I begin to really panic. Being in a fight is one thing, but being in a fight without any weapons is another problem entirely. Finnick growls as I manage to somehow kick him in the stomach, but throws his full body weight onto me once again.
I remember thinking before my Games that hand-on-hand combat would always be the hardest for me, based on my small size. And up until now it hadn't actually been an issue; I'd always somehow managed to escape my way into distanced fighting, with my bow and arrows. I've never felt more weak and empty-handed than I do right now. I long for Gale's protection, or Peeta's strength.
Predictably, in a matter of seconds I'm pressed up against Finnick's back, his strong arms locked under my throat. I squirm futilely, hitting his arms with my hands. I can feel blood dripping down my face, and the foul, metallic taste soon fills my mouth. I spit it onto the floor.
"Traitor," I gasp. My chest aches with a painful feeling of betrayal and hurt.
Finnick laughs and another voice joins his own. "Before you begin your wailing and cursing, my dear, please be rest assured that he has not yet betrayed you. I've simply taken over his mind for the time being."
President Snow makes his way over to where we stand, two Peacekeepers in tow. I gather up some more blood from my mouth and spit it at him (a last resort I've come to like in these past few years). It lands on his suit and slides down the shiny material like a snake.
"Lovely," he says, wiping it off with his finger and spreading it down my cheek like paint. Snow looks me up and down and I squirm under his gaze, feeling as if I am completely naked standing infront of him.
"Go to hell," I growl.
"Why would I go to a place that does not exist?" he asks me, "Hell is just an imaginary place for imaginative people. I, on the other hand, would much rather take you somewhere special, where we can really get to know eachother better."
Somehow, his idea of 'somewhere special' doesn't seem so special to me. I swallow hard and wish more than ever that I wasn't so alone in this nightmare.
As we make our way towards whatever Snow has planned for me, I wonder where everyone else is, what they're doing. Not just the ones who are caught, but the ones who managed to escape. I wonder if my family is safe, if they were somehow saved in the chaos of the arena exploding. I pray that they are, because surely if they were just sitting at home in the Victor's Village, they would have long ago been taken in by Snow's men. That's the last thing I want.
I wonder, too, about Haymitch. By the sounds of it, there is a full blown war raging outside these tunnels. There must have been much more going on with the mentors than I'd originally thought for there to suddenly be an army of rebels going up against the Capitol. Surely Gale is a part of it too. And surely they are planning some crazy rescue mission at this very moment. The desperate part of me hopes they are. Anything to get Peeta out safely, no matter what the cost.
Eventually I am blindfolded (although I see no reason why it is necessary; I'm going to die anyway) and Zombie Finnick needs to steer me through the hall to follow wherever Snow is headed. The air temperature rises so I know that we're back to the cells again.
"Watch your step," someone tells me venomously. I trip into the room they've brought me to and am almost immediately strapped to a chair that feels like stone. Lovely.
I decide to provoke them a little. By this point I don't care what they do to me; I'm going down fighting no matter what kind of pain they put me through. "Do what you want to me, Snow," I put as much fake casualty into my voice as I can muster. "You'll never win this. You'll never get the satisfaction of hearing me defeated."
"You may think so now, Katniss, but we're only just getting started. Don't be so sure of yourself."
"Torturing me doesn't make you stronger," I say.
Snow snickers. "Is this your poor attempt at talking me out of it?"
"Is this your poor attempt at keeping me under your slimy fingers? The rebels will have me out of here in no time." I try to sound as confident as I can, although I know absolutely nothing about what the rebels have planned.
Suddenly I feel hot breath on my face. "What did you just say?" he snarls.
I am genuinely stunned for a moment. "Wh-"
"What did you just say?" President Snow is legitimately yelling now, right in my face. "What do you know about the rebels? What do they have planned?"
"I-I don't know," I stammer. My head is spinning. "I don't know anything about the rebels."
"Don't lie to me!" he shouts angrily, all of his self-control blown out the window.
I hear a sudden beep and my body errupts into waves of unimaginable, indescribable agony. My veins are lit on fire, my bones are being crushed, my brain is exploding out of my skull. My chest heaves and I let loose the loudest screams I've ever made. This pain is like nothing I could have imagined, worse than what he did to me before, by a million.
...And suddenly, it stops, and I'm back in the chair with beads of sweat rolling down my face and gasping, choking sounds coming from my throat.
"Now, tell me again what they are going to do," demands Snow. And just as quickly as it had come, all of my courage leaves me and I begin to shake, because never have I ever truly not known what to do.
"I swear," I tell him. "I don't know anything."
"I really thought we wouldn't have to do this, Katniss."
The beep sounds again and I find myself drowning, for the second time, in the worst pain imaginable.
"You can do it, Kit-Kat. I know you can," my father tells me, guiding my fingers back onto the bow. His hands are warm and his encouragements make me all the more frustrated.
"No I can't," I grumble angrily. "I'll never be able to do it like you can!"
My father sits me down on a big rock we found together and looks me straight in the eye. "Katniss, I have the most confidence in you than I've ever had in anything. You may think you can't now, but in no time you'll be shooting better than anyone, myself included. You'll be unstoppable." He wipes away a few frustrated tears that have fallen from my eyes.
I sniffle and look up at the waves of greying black hair in his eyes, at the lines on his face that make him my father - the person I trust more than anyone else in this world. "How do you know?" I ask softly.
"Because the first time I saw you shoot, you got the most dedicated look in your eyes. And right then, I knew that you'd be the most talented huntress out there. Even now, I still know it. It just takes time," he tells me.
So I stood up with a revived confidence, took my aim, and hit the very center of the bull's eye.
My father smiles. "That's my girl."
It's crazy how much time can slow down when you're stuck somewhere for so long, your mind completely gone. I was tortured for days on end, until the point where I was certain my heart had stopped beating altogether. But somehow, it hadn't. It keeps beating, no matter how faint the sound is in my ears.
In the few hours between sessions, when I lie on the floor of my cell staring at one spot in the room, my mind wanders to other things, the main destination being Peeta. I haven't been brought to him yet, like they'd said I would at first, so I have a small, rising hope in my heart that he miraculously is safe, that what Finnick had suggested was true and they hadn't meant him after all.
Sometimes I picture him sitting somewhere safe with the rest of the rebels, planning the rescue that I am beginning to lose hope in now. I picture hiim frantically telling Haymitch or whoever else that something needs to be done, that we can't just be left here to suffer. And I see him crying for me, missing me as much as I miss him, and my heart aches even more.
And as much as I hate myself to think it, I wish in these small moments that he were here with me, to hold me when I cry and to stop my body from shaking. I wish that he were here to tell me that everything would be okay, even when we both knew it wouldn't be. I miss the haven of his arms, the curve of his lips, and the blueness of his eyes.
I miss him so much it hurts.
One day is different from the rest. I wake up as I normally do on the cold, tiled floor to find myself face-to-face with an ugly man whose eyes are much too small for his face. He smacks me across the face to wake me up and shoves me back against the wall, just as he always does. I don't fight him; I don't do much of anything. I've come to prefer staying silent rather than raging them on even more. They don't get any information from me either way.
"We have a surprise for you today," the man tells me. I stare unblinkingly at him, but he says nothing else.
I'm put in handcuffs that burn my wrists when turned on, and we begin our usual walk down the darkened corridor. Ever since Zombie Finnick and I's escape from the cell, there have been Peacekeepers lined up along the wall every two meters or so, just in case I ever plan something. Not that I would, with their guns pointed at my skull like that, but it's a precaution they feel is necessary.
When we get to the door of my torture cell, I automatically turn my body to go into it, to get this hell over with for the next while. But to my surprise, I'm led to the next cell.
My senses are now on high alert. I've never been in this room before. My mind spins and names flash through my head as I try to decipher who might be waiting for me in here, apart from the usual guards and Snow. Have they brought me to stay with another prisoner?
At first when I step in, I don't realise what is infront of me. I can see the back of Snow's head, based on the splotchy grey hair and dark suit. And I can see manacles going from the two top corners of the room and the two bottom corners of the room towards something in the middle, something standing directly infront of the president.
And then I hear his screams, and I see a flash of blonde hair, and I know.
Everything I'd wake up screaming from, everything I'd prayed not to happen, is now right infront of my eyes. He was never safe. He was always here, suffering along with me.
"NO!" I cry. I can feel my heart breaking into a million pieces with every agonized scream that bites the air.
Snow turns around to look at me and smiles maliciously. "Ah, Katniss," he says. His finger pauses on the botton controlling the manacles and Peeta falls to a heap, his body shaking with tremors. I can't see his face. "So nice of you to join us."
With an animal-like scream, I throw myself towards Snow, wanting to beat that grin right off his face. I have never wanted to kill him more than I do right now. I have never hated anything more than I do right now. This feeling, this burning inside of me, is all of the flames I've held in as the Girl On Fire, coming back in this one moment. I want to stand infront of President Snow and watch him suffer the way we've been suffering, and I want to kill him with my own bare hands.
His guards take me down before I can move more than a meter towards him, but Snow calmly insists that once he is back in the protection of his bodyguards they can remove my cuffs and let me see Peeta.
"Are you sure, boss?" one asks incredulously. I am just as stunned but ask no questions. Peeta is merely a few meters away. I have to see him, hold him, touch him, if one more time.
"Yes, we might as well let them say goodbye before we continue with their torture. The girl is next. He gets to watch." Snow grins happily and goes to stand behind some of his guards.
I'm removed from my cuffs and immediately rush towards Peeta, crying my eyes out.
"Peeta," I sob. "Peeta, look at me. It's me. It's Katniss."
I take his face in my hands and lift it to look at me. His eyes are fluttering, his skin bruised to the point of blackness in some places. But he's beautiful to me. Beautiful and still alive.
"Mmm," he moans.
"Open your eyes," I say desperately. My voice has dropped to a broken whisper. "Please open your eyes for me, Peeta."
His breath suddenly hitches and his eyes open fully. His skin may be cut and bruised and bloodied, but his eyes will always be the same breathtaking blue. His smile will always be radiant. "Katniss," he breathes, as if he can't believe I am here. I can hardly believe it myself.
I clutch his gown to my face and breath in the smell of him. Neither of us have bathed in who knows how long, but I can't seem to care. I caress his cheeks with my fingers and kiss him as softly as I can. His lips are scorching on mine, but it feels so good to be close to him like this again that I hardly notice it at all.
Just as quickly as we'd been reunited, one of Snow's guards lifts me off my feet and moves me away from him. "Let me go!" I scream, speaking my first words to them in weeks.
"Unfortunately for you, that's all the time you get. Hope you made good use of it," Snow smiles at me. Some kind of film plays out in my head involving me blasting him to bits. My usual daydreams.
I'm hooked up to manacles on the other side of the room - across from Peeta - and Snow walks over to stand infront of me, making sure not to block Peeta's view of the scene about to unfold. The remote is passed from the guards to Snow's hands, and just as his finger comes down on the botton, just as Peeta cries out in anger and the first waves of pain hit me, a white flash of light hits the room and everyone apart from Peeta and I are thrown to the floor.
Looks like the rebels have finally decided to take action.
It's almost hard to believe that this story was originally just going to be a one-shot. I'm so glad I was convinced (by my amazing reviewers, of course) to continue it!
Review, please (: