Phoebus's POV

Nobody woke up until we heard the bang.

"What the hell was that?" asks Ross, yawning.

"Dunno," says Brio. Ross reaches over to hit a light switch and the room is illuminated to see our roommate lying on the floor in a puddle of blood.

Ross jumps down from his bunk without using the ladder, "VIRIDIAN!"

I scramble out of bed to go to him, and when I look up, Brio is frozen in shock and horror. "VIRIDIAN NO!"

Lights turn on and people come running. Ross shakes him by the shoulders with a screaming sob. "PLEASE!"

My heart drops to my stomach. What do you even say in a time like this?

I climb quickly up the ladder to console Brio as the door bursts open and three men come in, guns ready to fire. Brio screams and I gently rub his back. He dives into my arms and buries his face in my shoulder, hiccupping with ugly sobs.

"Freeze!" shouts our Sargent, the other men with him taking aim at each of us.

"VIRIDIAN!" Ross shouts, his voice strained with tears.

"I SAID FREEZE!" he shouts, causing all of us to do as he says.

"You two, out of bed! Hands where we can see 'em." Brio looks at me, his wide eyes begging me to go down first, which I do, slowly and cautiously. It's not until I take a good look that I realize the magnitude of the situation. The whistle, the Mockingjay's whistle, the enemy's whistle, printed hurriedly up on the wall and him lying dead in front of it.

Ross's naturally brown eyes are wide and pooled with tears, but he puts his bloody hands up and doesn't move, me and Brio soon following.

"What happened here?" one of the men asks. "We'll know if you're lying."

We exchange a silent glance with our eyes. I don't want the other two to get hurt, so I speak. "We didn't know about any of this! We were just sleeping when it happened, all of us!"

Ross hangs his head, hiccupping with sobs, as we're stared down by the others.

"I wouldn't think so," says one of the men, observing the trail of paint on the floor. "The trail leads to this backpack. Whose is it?"

Both of us are about to say something but Brio steps up first. "Sir, it's mine."

Our Sargent goes over, grabbing Brio by his shirt. "You know what happens to traitors around here? This isn't a fucking game, Cadet!"

Brio lets out a sob as he pulls back a fist.

In the speed of light, before I can react, Ross snatches the gun out of Viridian's hand and loads it, pointing it at them. "Don't. Hurt. Him!" he shouts, through sobs and gritted teeth.

"It was me! I was his accomplice! I did this. Leave the others out of it. It was all my fault!" his grip on the gun shakes but his eyes are rock hard. One of the men shoots his gun, and with an ear-shattering boom the bullet lands in Ross's hand, causing him to drop the weapon. Before I can think to fight, they have him in handcuffs.

"Take 'em out of the room," he says. "We're gonna interrogate each and every one of these guys until we solve this story."

He turns to us. "Drop everything and leave it here. Now." We obey them slowly. "You're going to have a long time to assess your guilt." Once we've dropped it all, he turns to the others. "Take 'em." And just like that, we're escorted away.

The three of us sit in a cell while the other trainees get interrogated.

Brio sits in the corner of the dark room, swaying from side to side, singing something with a teary, wobbly voice. Ross stays curled up in a tight ball on the concrete bench, twisting the cuffs around his hands. I sit on the bench across from Ross's, twisting the stud in my cartilage nervously. We've all been traumatized tonight, and I have a feeling it's not going to be much better.

I've tried to snap Ross and Brio out of it, but that's not going to happen. Instead, I decide to talk and see if they'll respond.

"You shouldn't blame yourselves. Don't let them make you believe it's your fault. It's not. It's none of our faults."

"How were we so damn STUPID!?" Ross clenches his fists and his teeth again, hyperventilating.

"Calm down," Brio whimpers, "You're not helping."

"How the hell did we not know?! How the hell did we sleep through it!?"

"Ross," I try, but he cuts me off.

"We should've been better to him! I should've been better to him!" he struggles against the handcuffs.

"Stop it!"

"And you, Phoebus! You were so ready to sell him out!" he snaps. My heart freezes, caught in complete shock.

"Huh?"

"To those men. Oh yeah, it was all his fault! How the hell could you do that to him!?"

"I was being honest. Ross, calm down!"

"Honest?! It wasn't just his fault. People don't decide to die for no reason, Phoebus. Trust me, I know! He had a reason, and I bet we were a part of it. We weren't good enough friends to him, we weren't good enough at keeping his spirits up! We FAILED him! We're all goddamn failures! And we all deserve to die a bloodier death than he did!" He tugs at the handcuffs, eventually giving up and burying the heavy metal into his wrists.

"Ross, please!" says Brio, letting out a sob, "Please!"

"Think of what else you have to go home to, Ross. Your family, your friends!"

"I don't have any!" he shouts.

"Yes you do! Your father, your brother and sister, your best friend who would do anything for you, remember telling us about them?

He looks up at me, something in his eyes signaling the prospect of sanity. Tears stream down his cheeks, his arms shaking in the cuffs and his head hanging. He seems to have calmed down a bit. He speaks up in a barely audible voice.

"I lied, alright?"

Brio and I exchange a look. "Huh?"

"I lied!" he shouts, then he sighs, his voice quieting again. "I…I didn't want you guys to hate me because I don't have a mother and my Dad wants to disown me anyways. I didn't want you guys to know that everyone back where I'm from thinks I'm a dweeb and doesn't talk to me. I really wanted you guys to like me… But I'm not any kind of popular, happy, smiling, flirty guy. I'm just an unlovable slut that tried to kill himself when he was 16 and fat and alone."

My heart drops to my stomach. The only true friends I've ever found, and they're going to tear themselves apart… I wish I knew what to do for them.

"We like you anyways," Brio says quietly. "Promise."

Ross stares at the cuffs on his hands and stays silent. "Let them take me," he says, "If it gets down to it. They're not going to leave until they blame someone."

"Don't throw yourself into danger, though," Brio says. "If we can all get out of this, we all need to." Ross silently nods.

The man appears in the door and takes me for interrogation. I sit in a white room, biting my lip nervously.

"Is your name Phoebus Armstrong?"

"Yes."

"What is your age?"

"Twenty-five years old."

"What was your occupation before this?"

"I worked in a piercing shop."

"What is your relation to the subject at hand, Viridian Turner?"

"He was my roommate," I do everything I can to keep my voice steady. "We were close to friends, but he never talked much."

"What was his motive?" I think it was damn obvious what his motive was.

"I don't know. I was asleep until the gun fired." I want to break eye-contact, run away and actually cry for once, but I need to protect myself as much as I can. I owe it to the others.

"Were you?"

"Yes. I didn't know he was doing anything."

"Are you being honest?"

"I wouldn't dare lie."

"Willing to hold onto that story?

"It's the truth."

"Is it?" One of the men holds up a whip. Oh God… I had only ever seen this in the Districts…

"Kneel down and we'll see about your little story."

"It's the honest-to-God truth!" The interrogator holds up a gun. "Get on the floor." I do as he says.

"What was the motive for Viridian Turner's suicide!?"

"He felt unloved!" The whip hits my back hard and I cry out, the wind knocked out of me.

"WHAT WAS THE MOTIVE!?" I swallow hard. "He was a rebel."

"There's never just one rebel, cadet!" he shouts, and the whip cracks again. "Who are the others?!"

"There are no others!" I wheeze.

"WHO ARE THE OTHERS!?"

"Not me! The Capitol has given me so much!" I bite my lip as the whip hits me again.

"What was that?"

"I'm not a rebel!" I try not to get mad, knowing I will lose my head if I do.

"He was!" Crack! My voice gets weaker.

"I know he was! I'm not, though! I didn't know he was one until he died!"

"You can't just not know!" he says. Crack!

"I wouldn't rebel against a Capitol that loves me!" I say. Though I would against one that whips me, I think, but I hold my tongue. I have to stay strong.

"What was that?" Crack! I groan, feeling light-headed.

I raise my hoarse voice anyways, "I wouldn't rebel against the Capitol!"

"Damn right you wouldn't!" Crack! I cry out. After a pause, I'm pulled up. They look unsatisfied at not getting a confession, and I feel the blood run down my back to my pants."

"You are dismissed," he says, scowling. I'm escorted back to the cell, where we are supposedly supposed to be relocated to until we can get another room.

"Krone!" Brio practically shouts, running to hug me and stopping in his tracks. I put my hands on his shoulders. "Be strong," I tell him, "No matter what they do just tell the truth." He swallows hard and nods as he's whisked away to the interrogation room and I'm left with Ross.

Ross curls up again, rocking back and forth and tugging at the cuffs on his hands. I sit by him. "Ross?"

He doesn't respond. Eventually I stop trying and sit in silence. Blood runs down my back that makes me shudder, and I wonder what they're doing to Brio in there. My heart beats hard. After what feels like forever, he comes back, his shirt ripped and his back bloody, eyes teary, nose that looks broken, but very much alive. "They let me go," he says, sitting next to me. "Finally."

They grab Ross by the handcuffs and pull him into the room without a word.

We wait for him to come back. Wait and wait and wait some more. So long the blood dries on my back.

Some white-clad men take each of us to a new room and separates us.

I shower and wash my back, practically shouting from the pain. I get out, carefully dry off, and change into a T-shirt and flannel pants. Then I go out to look for any signs of Ross's return, Brio following.

We search and ask around, but nobody's seen him since last night.

I don't think Ross is coming back.

~.~.

Ross's POV

My heart races. My hands sweat. My eyes are locked on the knife in my hands.

I have the power now. The power to end it all right now.

I look at my fat arms and the rest of my fat body. My fat face, my fat, stubby legs, and my feet that look too tiny to hold up such heavy weight. I'm sick of being picked on for it. And now it ends. All of it.

The stars are bright and the moon is nothing but a thin crescent in the navy sky. I have things I love in this world, but not enough.

I'm about to do it when I hear a rustle in the nearby bushes and look up to see ice-blue eyes that almost glow in the dark. My heart jumps to my throat. He looks confused, but not quite angry.

"What are you doing here?" he has a thick accent that isn't typical to the Capitol, but it's interesting.

"What are you doing here!?" I retort.

"Asked you first."

"I asked you second!"

"I always come here. This is the first time I've seen you around."

"Yeah, well it's also going to be the last." A tear rolls down my (fat) cheek and I look down at the knife in my round hands.

"Don't think like that," he says, sitting beside me. "What's your name?"

"Ross."

"I'm Diesel. It's nice to meet you."

"No it's not."

"What's got you saying that?"

"You can see it. Everyone can see it. I'm such a dork and a loser and a fat, gross slob."

"No. You're not."

"Yeah I am."

"It's okay to be different, you know? That's what the Capitol is all about, after all."

"The Capitol is only about being the good type of different. I'm not."

"What's defined as the good type of different, then?"

I think. I don't have an answer for him.

"There is no good or bad to different." He thinks. "Here, consider this. People poked fun at me because I had a "funny voice," but now they all want to fuck me because of it. Times change."

"Yeah, but-"

"Is that any different? You're you, and that's what counts. You seem very bright. Be honest with me, Ross, are you bright?"

I bite my lip. "Yes."

"Then do you think those people will be poking fun at you when you're the President of Panem?"

"I could never be the President of Panem."

"If you die today then you're right, you never will be."

I look over. "That's pretty fucking clever."

"Hm?"

"Clever way of talking me out of it."

"I'll do whatever you need."

I blink. "Why? You just met me? And I'm not that attractive or anything."

He shrugs. "You are attractive. And you seem like a nice kiddo."

"I'm 16!"

He glances over. "Oh?" I nod.

"Sixteen is still too young. Go back home. Maybe we'll meet again someday and you can thank me." He laughs a little bit. I smile a tad and nod just a little bit before quickly walking home.

~.~.

I don't snap out of my trance until I'm pulled by the handcuffs to the interrogation room. I don't even get to say any kind of goodbye to my roommates, my only friends. I know I have to be strong for them.

The interrogator goes right to business.

"Is your name Ross McCafferty?"

"Yes," I croak out.

"What is your age?"

"Twenty-two years, five months, and twenty-six days old."

The two men with the interrogator scowl and cross their arms, shaking their heads.

"What did you do before coming here?"

I try my best to remain calm, taking shaky breaths. "I was just about to graduate college. I majored in Games and Victor History."

"What was your relation to Viridian Turner?" his voice has taken a cold edge.

"He was my roommate and my friend. I was flirting with him." Somebody makes a gag noise and whispers, "Too much information."

"What was his motive?"

"Rebellion. Couldn't you see the notes on the wall? I don't even know music and I knew what they were."

"And how would you know this?" he asks quickly.

"Because I have common sense?"

"What were you doing when the incident happened?"

My throat catches and I stare down at my hands, eyes tearing up. I just can't hold eye-contact while crying. "I was sleeping," I say quietly. "I was asleep and I didn't wake up until I heard the gun fire."

"When our investigators walked in, they reported that you were hunched over the body. Is this true?"

"Yes. He was my best friend, or one of them. I didn't want him to be dead." Tears roll down my cheeks and I try my best to stop them.

"They also reported you to take the blame for the situation. Claimed yourself to be an accomplice."

"I was trying to protect Brio. I'm innocent too."

"Were you? You were reported to take the weapon and turn it on them."

My stomach flips and my expression darkens.

"I'm not a rebel."

"Get on the floor."

"I'm not-"

"GET ON THE FLOOR!"

I slide off my seat obediently.

"Admit that you are a rebel, or else we will force you to."

"I would never rebel against my Capitol."

The whip cracks and more tears immediately pour out of my eyes.

"Were you an accomplice and fellow rebel to Viridian Turner!?"

"No!" the whip cracks again and I scream.

"We found something interesting in your room," the interrogator says, holding up a piece of paper in a plastic bag. "It is his suicide note that openly defies the Capitol and defines him a traitor."

My throat catches. "So?"

"It was in one of your notebooks. Obviously he wanted your eyes to see it and nobody else's." My heart shatters, and I'm not sure if it's because I've been backed into a corner or that I didn't get to read the note myself.

"I'm not a rebel," I say quietly, voice breaking. The whip hits me, again and again, speed increasing each time. My screams get louder and louder.

"You are a rebel!"

"I'm not a rebel!" The whip hits again and I can't control the screams and cries that tear out of my throat. "I'm not a rebel! I'm not a rebel!" It's all I can say now, it's all I can think. I'm not a rebel, I'm not a rebel.

"Confess!" The whip hits me again and again and I feel about ready to die or pass out, whichever comes first.

"I'm not a rebel…" I say quietly. I see stars with each crack I hear, my eyes squeezing shut.

"Confess!"

I feel a sudden desperate need to cling to my life, and finally I can't stand it any longer, I can't stand ignoring Viridian and making everything he worked for irrelevant, and I'm tired of lying to everyone and myself.

Tears roll down my cheeks.

"CONFESS!"

I scream and gasp for air desperately, shouting at the top of my lungs, "I AM A TRAITOR! I AM A TRAITOR! I AM A TRAITOR!" The whip cracks one more time and then the world becomes one giant blur. I'm yanked up, I hear something that sounds like laughter. I'm sorry Krone and Spot. I let you guys down.

"Put me to death," I say, though it comes out as weak mumbling.

"Your fate will be much worse," he assures me, the words echoing in my head. I close my eyes and am dragged along.

"Avox," I mumble quietly, the tears never ceasing to roll down my cheeks.

"Not exactly," says one of the guys. They open another door to an overwhelmingly bright and white room that makes my head hurt when I open my eyes.

"We got a confessor," he says, and the guys shove me forward into the room. I can feel at least twenty pairs of eyes on me and the room is silent until he speaks up again.

"Dr. Townsend, we found you your long-awaited Test Rat."