The horrors of the next few days are the worst I've ever endured in the Cage. Portia and Effie, the rebellion and the ashes of my home are a candle flicker in the darkness of my reality. With every venom induced coma, I wake from the nightmares in a cold sweat, kicking and screaming, trembling and bleeding.
Annie struggles desperately to comfort me. But my memories are blurred, infused with puddles of frightening color, the smell of burning flesh and creatures that ferment in the recesses of my tortured mind. How many times must I watch my family die, swallowed in the flames of the bombing? Relive my father's last words? Feel my own body ripped apart? Soon, even Annie loses hope of ever again seeing the boy with the bread.
Johanna doesn't dare look at what I've become, as if in a fit of rage she might kill me herself. Night after night, I lie awake dying to drift off long enough for her to smother me in my sleep. Especially when I ascend into the Cage muttering treacherous things as the nightmares rage on.
Strapped to the metal chair, the familiar sting unleashes a burning, like my skin is on fire as the venom courses through my veins. In a shiny haze, the Chamber begins to morph. Thick green grass and insects sprout through cracks of the blood stained tiles. From the dirt, twisted and tangled roots grow rapidly into towering trees. Foliage blooms from every crevice, beautifully frightening in a glossy glaze, swallowing all traces of white. And once again, I'm in the jungle.
The sun is bright and hot, beating down on my bare skin. The air warm and heavy with moister. The thin white cotton clings to me with sweat and I suddenly realize the spiked chains have too morphed and thick green vines now entwine around myself out of the chair, the thorns bite my fingers, drawing droplets of blood. Finally free, I dash behind a tree and listen. There's only the sound of birds and the sway of the trees through the breeze.
Sighing, I wipe my sweaty forehead and bloody fingers with a patch of moss. Then I pain-stakingly remove the stingers and a foul-smelling green liquid oozes a thought dawns on me. I'm in the middle of the jungle with no weapons. Gritting my teeth, Haymitch's voice whispers Stay Alive. Rolling my eyes, I scan the jungle for any signs of life. There's no dirt trail or footprints so it's safe to assume I'm alone. For now. My eyes dart frantically as I cut through the dense moss-coated vegetation. Trudging deeper and deeper, I search for something, anything I can fashion into a spear.
Suddenly I hear a sharp zap. I freeze, my foot hovering over a patch of dazzling pink flowers. Gazing into the distance, I spot a butterfly on the ground, its orange wings sizzling. Grabbing a branch of hard nuts hanging like grapes, I chuck them. And one by one, they pop against the force field. I'm hallucinating, if my heart stops beating, what are the odds I'll awake in the Cage? It'll be quick, I won't even feel it. Shaking my head, I force the thought from my mind. Because despite imminent death lurking around every tree, I cherish a slither of hope that I'll hold Katniss in my arms again.
Weary of the tangled roots, I toss the nuts as I go. And every so often, when a nut hits the force field there's a puff of smoke and the nut lands blackened with a cracked shell. Pangs of hunger rumble in my stomach as I peel off the shells of a few cracked nuts and pop them into my mouth. My tongue recoils at the mildly sweet taste, like hazelnuts. Katniss' cry shocks me and I flinch, mid-swallow. "Mags! Spit that out. It could be poisonous." And Finnick's heart-warming laugh, "I guess we'll find out."
A pang of sorrow hits me square in the chest as I recall the memory. I was lingering so closely to death during the Quell yet somehow my brain traps this moment of pure uncorrupted tranquility and let it emerge in my hallucination to taunt me now. And my eyes water knowing sweet little Mags sacrificed herself so Finnick could save me. Only for Snow to hijack me into a monster. A strange anger arouses inside me, how easy it would be for Katniss and the rebellion if I was dead.
Sighing, I lean against a tree, feeling the heat draw the moister from my body like a sponge. Already swallowing is difficult and fatigue is creeping up on me. Dizzy, I sink to the ground and try to picture the arena and its clever clock design. A perfect circle with the Cornucopia in the center, surrounded by salt water. Where everything hour beacons a new horror, a new Gamemaker weapon. The only source of food was oysters Finnick fished on the beach, Mags' mystery nuts and a strange possum-like rat.
In my stillness, animals creep from their hiding places, impressively camouflaged into the lush green plant life: exotic birds with sharp beaks, dangerous talons and colorful feathers, little red lizards with flickering blue tongues and finally. Lingering slowly from branch to branch is the rat possum: no bigger than a cat, covered in grey fuzz with two gnawing fangs. I can't kill it without a weapon or skin it with my bare hands. If I can snare it, I can roast it with the force field. But I can't be wandering through this god-forsaken jungle defenseless.
I find a thin tree, no older than a sapling which sways in the humid breeze. This is a bad idea. A boyish voice in my head whispers as a smile creeps on my face. Taking a deep breath, I break into a sprint and jump. When my hands curve around a low hanging branch, I heave myself up and climb a few feet, my body pressed to the trunk. A long thin branch catches my eye. I kick the branch hard. The entire tree shakes and within minutes the branch is severed, dangling in mid-air. I'm reaching out to catch it when suddenly the branch snaps and plummets to the earth, slashing a gash across my hand.
Cursing under my breath, I clench my fist and jump. Landing on my feet, I slowly open my palm. With hours of spikes digging into me in the Chamber, the bloody gash is numb and painless. Ripping my shirt, I tear a strip, revealing the belt of scars across my stomach and bandage my wound. Snatching up the branch, I find a shaded spot and dig through the dirt, searching for a sharp rock. Within minutes my hands are grimy, but at least I can forge a weapon.
As time dwindles by, the sun lingers in the evening sky and I'm basked in the warm glow of an orange sunset. I sit a few feet from the force field, staring straight ahead. The long branch is now several pieces. One, two and three are strapped to the belt across my chest, woven from blades of long grass and four is skewered through the tree rat. With the fifth and a hollow stick, I'd managed to drill a hole in a tree where a slow stream now seeps out and fills into a plaited grass bowl.
After my dinner of roasted rat, tree milk and nuts, I relax gazing at the starry sky and expecting canons to boom any moment. Moonlight shines through the dense canopy, illuminating patches of earth. A shiver runs down my spine as I recall our first night in the jungle, ghostly pale and green in the moonlight.
Without warning, a boom startles me. Jumping to my feet, I snatch the wooden stake from my belt and glance around. The ticking of insects ceases as if the jungle itself is anxious. Then I see it. In the distance a dazzling bolt of electricity strikes a towering tree and a lightning storm begins. I hear the pitter-patter of rain on petals. The moment after it stops, fog hovers over the earth.
Something's wrong with this fog, it's not natural. A sickeningly sweet odor invades my nostrils, but before I can move tiny searing stabs of mist scorch my skin. I break into a run as droplets spring free of the body of vapor. They burn, as the chemicals burrow deep into my flesh. I need to climb.
Suddenly, I spot a large boulder, leap and kick off, hurtling into the air. I grab hold of a branch and heave myself up. My leg begins to twitch as I climb higher and higher, desperate to escape the fog. Catching my breath, I lean my head against the trunk cushioned with moss. Now I can see the claws of fog, its curly fingers slithering through the pass and the fog thrives in eerie shadows.
My pulse is still racing when I strangely find myself yawning. As I drift off, I try to imagine a world far off in the future with no Hunger Games and no Capitol. A place like the meadow in the song Katniss sang to Rue as she died. A place where children can be safe and the people of Panem can live in peace. I wake with a delicious feeling of happiness lingering on my lips.
But that's when I see her, strolling through the jungle of dead plants the fog sucked dry of life. Her jumpsuit is ripped, slashed across her torso and speckled with holes. She's quiet, stealthy, with her bow poised at her hip. The moonlight basks her in a pearly glow, illuminating her face. I see a flicker of red. Maybe it's my eyes playing tricks on me but as I squint, there's no denying her eyes are blood red and glowing. As I watch her, a strange fascination washes over me. Like watching a predator in their natural habitat hunting its prey. She creeps out of eyesight and for a moment I'm frozen. The soft humming of insects calms my nerves and I sigh. Clutching my stakes, I scamper down the tree and hit the ground in a sprint.
In the short time, it takes to cross the jungle, I become aware of a change. Like in temperature, a shiver runs down my spine. Blame it on a wavering sense of impending doom or killer instinct. But the mass of warm bodies poised above me and the swarm of breathing ignites a surge of adrenaline to my heart. I don't dare glance up, fearing these monkeys sense aggression. Tip-toeing around the tangles of roots, I realize now that quiet is not my strong suit. Quivering, I unhook a stake from my chest.
A branch snaps under my foot but it's as if I've triggered a bomb. The monkeys explode into a shrieking mass of orange fur. I've never seen a mutt move so fast, sliding down vines, leaping unbelievably from tree to tree. Fangs bared, hackles raised, claws shooting out like switchblades. Leaves smack me in the face, cutting me as I crash through the jungle. Without a knife or arrows, I'm defenseless against those vicious claws and teeth. They chase after me, howling unbearable shrieks. A monkey lunges from a tree at me and I thrust the stake into its heart, splattering myself with blood. They leap to attack and I have a second to react, throwing the stakes like daggers and snatching them from the carcasses. The air is grows heavy with the stench of trampled plants, blood and the musty stink of monkeys.
One jumps on me, its claws pricking my skin. But before I can react, razor sharp teeth sink into my shoulder. I yelp out in pain, blood spewing from the bite. I'm dizzy, stumbling through the jungle when one latches onto my thigh, claws tearing my shirt.
Plunging the stake into its head, the monkey howls, sinking its claws dirt turn to sand beneath my feet and the smell of salt overpowers the reek of blood.
I shiver runs down my spine as I gaze at Katniss. Arrows shoot from her bow, targeting eyes, throats and hearts. Screeching pierces my ears and suddenly the monkeys latched onto me fall to the sand, arrows plunged into their heads. She throws me a knife and I hack away. Monkey after monkey meets the blade. Suddenly, Katniss' scream pierces my ears. Peering over my shoulder, a monkey lunges for her. I throw my knife at the mutt, but the creature somersaults, escaping the blade. It knocks her to the ground, the bow sprawling out of her grasp. She's screaming, her hands thrust before her face as its claws lock onto her. Katniss has but seconds to live, so I do the only thing I can think of.
Falling to my knees, I plunge my last wooden stake through its back.
The screeches cease as the monkeys retreat into the jungle. Katniss inhales a sharp breath, shuddering beneath the stake. The monkey's grasp weakens and blood pools on her neck. She sighs, a sly smile creeping on her face. The beach is serene with only the bubble of waves meeting the sand. Despite the dead monkey latched to her chest, I can feel Katniss' heartbeat.
A sensation stirs inside me, growing warmer and spreading through my body, out along my arms and legs, to the very tips of my being. As the moments pass, her silver Seam eyes never divert from mine and I know she feels it too. Tossing the monkey into the sand, I climb on top of her. She cranes her neck, her nose brushing mine and I trace my tongue along her lips. I'm so painstakingly close when a flicker of red flashes in her eyes and my hands lock around her throat.
"Peeta," Katniss flashes that seductive smile, batting her eyelashes. Just the sound of her voice twists my stomach onto a knot of unpleasant emotions like guilt, sadness, fear and lust. A smirk curls my lips as I squeeze. "Peeta," Katniss pants, her voice hollow as my thumbs press down hard on her windpipe. "You're choking me." Her hands fumble, tremble as she clutches me, desperate for air.
"Give me a reason not to." I seethe, my voice a low growl through gritted teeth.
Her eyes grow wide, "The monkeys..." She croaks, taunting me.
"Are dead Katniss," I smirk, glancing around the beach of furry orange carcasses. Then I notice her bow. "But you'd love to drive an arrow through my heart." I whisper, bowing my neck to kiss her forehead and inhale the scent of her hair. She shudders beneath me, vibrating my lips.
"Peeta, I love you." Katniss whispers, my eyes lock on hers as tears run down her cheeks.
"Oh Katniss," I chuckle, shaking my head. I've killed a muttation of the girl I once loved a dozen times. A knife, arrows and even poisoned her with those precious blue berries. Every time I kill her a piece of me dies, but that doesn't extinguish the sadistically sweet joy I feel in knowing my name is her dying breath. "You were always such a terrible liar..." I whisper, "And a filthy mutt!"
As my grip tightens, my knuckles pale white and Katniss chokes on air, thrashing out beneath me. Her neck grows a shade of deep red and I can feel her ever-fainting pulse. When Katniss grabs a handful of sand, I have a second to disarm her. Gritting my teeth, I pin her arm down with one hand around her neck when suddenly she jerks up and head butts me. A shot of pain surges to my brain and I hear a tiny crack. Knocked off balance, I stumble backwards onto my knees and wipe the blood gushing from my broken nose. My head is spinning as black dots spark out. Rubbing my eyes, I blink and suddenly I'm gazing at the arrow soaring from her bow.
I bolt upright in the Cage, my hand jerking up to the arrow that seconds ago targeted my shoulder. Breathing heavy, I tremble, adrenaline pulsing through me. After a few moments, my body ceases to shake in fear but my heart still beats rapidly beneath my chest. I breathe deeply, filling my lungs, no longer inhaling the scent of blood nor the sound of Katniss' screams.
Annie stirs in her sleep, wrapped in the fleece blanket. The rise and fall of her chest is calming to my frenzied tremors. I sigh, wiping the cold sweat from my forehead and freeze, feeling prying eyes. Peering over, Johanna is sitting stone still with a look of fear and loathing on her tear-glazed face. She's pale, her eyes bloodshot as if she hasn't slept in weeks and her hair is messy and matted to her forehead with sweat. In this moment we both know I'm losing my mind.
The camouflaged door opens in the white wall and two guards storm into the Cage. Tossing the blanket off, I pull on my shoes and lace up the strings, I'm getting to my feet when Johanna lunges for my hand and I'm suddenly locked into her fragile embrace. She's shivering, her breath hot on my neck.
"You have to let me go Johanna," I whisper, brushing her hair. The warmth that radiates through her and into me is both calming and ignites an ache no amount of praying can vanquish.
"Peeta I can't lose you both." She sobs, her tears soaking my shoulder. Despite the tormenting nightmares and my struggle every day to fight them; without me, Johanna is alone with Annie, an emotionless soul who'd succumbed to the fear of her imminent death.
As the Cage rotates ever so slowly, Johanna whimpers shuddering in my embrace and Annie rustles in her sleep. My cage opens and the guards haul me to my feet with Johanna's hands still locked on my shirt. A shrill sound echoes off the white walls as my shirt tears, revealing my scars. Annie sits up groggily, rubbing her eyes, her tangled ginger curls framing her rosy heart-shaped face. My name is just forming on her lips when the door closes shut and I'm submerged into darkness.
I'm dragged into the shadowy corridor once more. My eyes adjusting to the dim light only to be flashed with the harsh spotlight, as I'm grounded before the elevator. There's an echo in my ears, a numbing sensation as I prepare to die and the feel of fingernails digging deep in my collarbone and loaded guns pinned to my sides. Like clock-work, the elevator beeps, the doors swoosh open and I'm faced with Frankie and Bennie. When the guards release their grip, I stroll into the elevator and place my hands before me as the doors close. Somehow a pair of handcuffs have slipped someone's mind.
Once again I'm confronted with the reflection of my sickly, deteriorating body. Except my white uniform is stained with dry blood and ripped. In the mirror, I can see Frank's roaming eyes. Trust me, it's not all mine, I think to myself. My gaze locks on Frank's gun and I strangely recall our first encounter. The odds aren't in your favor, he'd said. What would it take for a bullet to be in my favor? I think, knowing there are few solutions left and if I'm going to die I'd rather die the boy with the bread than a piece in Snow's game.
With the jerk of my hand, I grab the gun holstered to Frank's hip and shove the barrel under my chin. Frank lunges, throwing his arms around me. But my finger is on the trigger. There's a moment of pure silence as they both inhale a sharp breath, fearing that the next few seconds will be my last.
"Do it..." A voice taunts in a low growl. It's both familiar yet not entirely mine. He's Snow's monster, battling me for control. "It'll be an act of mercy."
"Listen to me," Frank demands, his arms locked around me. He's seen the effects of the Chamber, the frailty of my deteriorating body is the tip of the iceberg. But two voices speaking in my head, Frank nor Bennie are oblivious to such damage.
Portia's voice whispers in my mind Be yourself Peeta. A pang of sorrow rips me open, remembering their smiles struggled through tears. Be myself, I whisper. My name is Peeta Mellark. I am seventeen years old. I am a Victor in the 75th Hunger Games and survivor of the 25th Quarter Quell. District Twelve is my home. There is no District Twelve. Katniss Everdeen is the Mockingjay and the love of my life. The rebels hide in District Thirteen. Johanna Mason, Annie Cresta and I are prisoners of the Capitol. Snow killed Darius the Avox with his bare hands. I am not a mutt. I am the boy with the bread. I am going to kill Snow.
Tears prick my eyes as I replay the words over and over in my head. Breathing deeply, I concentrate all my energy on the feel of Frank's heartbeat, desperate to hold onto this moment.
"Frank." His brother warns, placing a stern hand on his shoulder. There's a tension in the elevator that's as thick as the fog in the jungle. It weighs heavily in the six by six foot space and poisons the air we breath.
"He deserves to know!" Frank hisses, peering over. Their heated stare lasts a long moment, flickers of shame and guilt shine in Frank's eyes then slowly Bennie retracts his hand.
Frank sighs and lowers his lips to my ear. "They've found the Mockingjay." A shiver runs down my spine and I'm paralyzed with an immense stomach-lurching fear that shakes the gun under my chin. My body breaks out in a sweat imagining the bombing of twelve and the screams of my family as they're swallowed up in the raging flames. They're lying, he whispers, implanting doubt in my mind. My eyes narrow as I gaze at Frank who so desperately wishes to pry the gun from my grasp.
"You work for Snow, I don't believe a word you say." For all I know, Snow could have easily planted this information in the hopes that in a moment of weakness, I may divulge rebel secrets.
Every nerve in my body tells me to run and hide but there's a gnawing in the back of my mind that tells me otherwise. As much as it could be a trick, Frank could be genuine. Suddenly something astonishing happens. I uncurl my hand from around the gun and I turn around to face them. Frank pulls down the collar of his uniform and right there seared into his skin is the mockingjay. He fights for the rebellion, allied with Portia and Effie, Darius and Lavinia in this treacherous fight against Snow. Pursing my lips, I nod, casting my gaze down and Frank readjusts his collar.
"You need to warn her," Frank says gravely. There's an urgency in his voice that alerts a sense of impending doom, "You're the only one she'll trust." Despite the shift in alliances on camera. Katniss knows I fight alongside the rebellion and calling the ceasefire was a matter of life or death. It's the rebels who will call me a liar and a traitor.
"And if I can't?" I ask.
"Then they'll be dead by morning." Bennie says simply and no amount of bracing myself can numb the heart ache. Thirteen will be a heap of ash and rubble scattered with burnt bodies like twelve. I have no choice, I have to warn her yet in doing so I'm endangering Lavinia's life. But if Katniss dies as does the rebellion and Snow will win.
When the elevator door opens, a foul smell invades my nose. And suddenly I'm running with my hand over my mouth. I fall to my knees and hurl into the toilet. A strange concoction of bread, nuts and fruit makes me gag. I'm trembling and sweaty when a second wave erupts. Black spots pop in the corner of my eyes as I flush the toilet. I lean against the tub and notice for the first time the disheveled state of the bathroom. Glass is smashed, the mirror is cracked and towels litter the floor. A memory flashes in my mind and I remember my violent outburst following news of twelve's bombing and the death of my family.
I turn on the shower and stand under the hot water for a full minute before I realize I'm wearing wet ripped clothes. I toss them into the sink and lather myself in foam. Silently, I scrub myself from head to toe. Only stopping to vomit again right in the shower. It's merely bile and goes down the drain with the sweet-smelling bubbles, sweat and Darius' blood from underneath my fingernails.
I haven't cried. I'm numb. But the numbness can't dull the pain in my throat, the emptiness in my stomach, or the bitter taste in my mouth and it certainly couldn't take away that one sentence that's still echoing in my mind that changed everything.
Switching off the shower, I tiptoe around the floor of broken glass and wrap a towel around my waist. Emerging from the steam, the smell of blood and roses overpowers the smell of shampoo. And I suddenly notice the crisp cream suit and gold tie laid out on the bed. A single red rose is tucked into the breast pocket. It's both a gift and a warning from Snow.
When I emerge from the bedroom, I brace myself for the foul smell wafting through the penthouse. Holding my nose, I walk into the living room and suddenly am queasy. The long mahogany table that was once piled high with mouthwatering delicacies is now teeming with slimy white maggots. Every dish is infested: maggots swimming in the green pea soup and crawling in the rice. The chicken is bare to bone and the bread appears to be breathing. I peer over and I realize its a breeding zone. Vomit rises in my throat with every breath inhale. So I grab a bottle of wine and the script.
I escape on the roof where Katniss and I picnicked on our last day of freedom. I'm surprised to see our hide away is untouched so I sit within the bundle of blankets in the garden of flowers and take swigs from the bottle . The fresh air, the warmth, the wind, the immense beauty of the spectacular pink, yellow and orange blaze of sunset arouse a bittersweet ache in me. As the sun descends below the horizon, I remember the girl with the grey Seam eyes and the voice so pure the birds stop to listen; the girl with the braids and red plaid dress twirling a dandelion around her finger. Blame the wine or the flux of memories, but a strange delirium washes over me, a foolish happiness in realizing I'm going to die and the sunset is the last beautiful thing I'll see on this earth.