CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
FOXFACE
I wake up slowly, my eyelids heavy and breathing suppressed.
I'm somewhere grey. Very grey. The lights are bright but shadowy and the blankets are coarse and rough against my skin. A hospital of some sort, but encased in metal like a coffin.
"W… where?" I don't manage to finish a complete sentence, speaking to the darkness above me.
"District Thirteen," says Enobaria's disembodied voice.
"Rubble?" I blink a few times and see her. She hovers above me, sitting at the edge of the cot I lie in. I scratch at the IV in my arm as I wait for her to answer my question.
"Apparently not. They've been thriving underground this entire time, getting ready to overthrow the Capitol." Pause. "Are you brain damaged? More brain damaged than usual, I mean."
I slowly sit up as my eyes begin to adjust. "No."
"Good." Enobaria looks even more stony and cold than usual.
"What happened? What happened to the Arena?"
"Cordelia Shepherd had a plan." Her expression sours as if she disagrees with it. "She made it with some other victors. They convinced District Five to blow the dam and shut off the power keeping us in the Arena. Thirteen came to the rescue and got most of us out."
They succeeded. They succeeded at what my mother tried and was executed for. Cordelia… Cordelia resolved her deepest regret. Cordelia!
"What happened to Cordelia?" I breathlessly ask, tearing at the blankets. Enobaria casually shoves me back down.
"I don't know," she admits, shrugging one shoulder.
Panic strikes my heart. "Clove!"
"She was taken…" Enobaria averts her gaze, now seeming truly pained. I cannot blame her.
"Prim? Haymitch? Beetee?"
"They got tiny Twelve out but they're still treating her wounds. Haymitch is in detox. Beetee is around here somewhere. Johanna didn't make it out, but Cashmere did. She's here locked up so she doesn't do anything crazy. Finnick is sobbing over his little girlfriend. The Capitol got to her before Thirteen could; they broke their promise to him and he'll be as pissed as us about our girl. They have Twelve's mom, Haymitch's girlfriend and Wiress for Beetee."
"But not Clove, because fuck us right!" Tears threaten to spill from my eyes. But not tears of fear or sadness. Tears of rage.
Enobaria laughs mirthlessly. "I didn't know you were capable of such language, Foxy."
"They got Cashmere and a fucking girlfriend of a drunk but they left Clove behind?"
"Cashmere is a prisoner. A bargaining chip if we need her. I personally think if I could be convinced to fight in this war, Cashmere could be, but they don't listen to people from Two around here. You're their Flower Girl. They'll do what you want, trust me."
"Nobody ever does what I want. I want to be home, with my brother and Cordelia. I want to be stealing from the market and watching my brother smile when I bring him home the candy I got for him. I want to be normal. I don't want to be the traumatized, screwed up, broken Flower Girl everyone wants to lead a rebellion. They've got the wrong girl! Don't you understand? They've got the wrong girl! It should've been Katniss or Rue. One of them. They could have been the Flower Girl. They were stronger than me, more likeable. I was a mistake."
"Clearly, you are. But we have to work with that mistake, now don't we?"
I feel oddly pleased that Enobaria mouthed off to me about being a mistake. My feelings are validated by her bitchiness, and she understands the truth of my words, when everyone else tries to soften it, to give me platitudes that lost all meaning fairly early in my life. Dishonest people like me struggle to believe that honest people exist. But Enobaria may be one behind the fangs and cold façade.
More honest than many I've met of late, at least.
"I'll do my best," I whisper.
"I'm not keeping my hopes up. And not just for you. For this entire rebellion." Enobaria snorts in distaste.
I passionately insist, "Please, have hope. We need hope if we're going to win."
Enobaria says, "Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have." She turns away. "Or a woman like you."
I cast my gaze away from her, ashamed.
"But we need something. We need to see the good somehow, don't we?"
"When teaching us about the importance of peacekeepers, back in Two, they always said the world is a good place, and worth fighting for. I agree with the second part."
"That's something, at least."
"Coin wants to see you," says Enobaria, straightening up stiffly. "We'll be escorted to her offices any minute now."
"Coin?" I squint.
"President Alma Coin. She's apparently in charge around here. We ought to obey her at least for the time being."
"Okay."
As if I would ever be brave enough to disagree.
[X]
A short dark walk and lengthy elevator ride later, Enobaria and I stand before Alma Coin and her advisors in a grey, grim room adorned with nothing but a blinking, flashing map of Panem.
"Solanine, it's good to see you. You must be confused, and you must be scared. I understand that," says Alma Coin, a woman I immediately distrust. But I know I must conceal that and so I do.
"My name is Foxy," I whisper.
She smiles, looking quite a bit like a shark. "Foxy, then. Well, Foxy, welcome. You will be well cared for here, and you need not worry."
"Why didn't you save Clove?" I demand, raising my voice slightly.
"Unfortunately, the Capitol reached her first. We will make our best effort to care for her and rescue her. But first I must speak to your companion. Enobaria Whitethorn, I understand you volunteered to help the rebellion with Cordelia Shepherd and Beetee Latier requested. But before we proceed, I must ask, why would a victor like you want to help us?"
"Because of my inherent altruism," snarks Enobaria. I laugh. No one else in the room does. She clears her throat and explains with a true expression of earnest, "Because my plan aligns with yours and therefore I support you for now."
Alma Coin drums her fingers on the table. "And what's that plan?"
"I'm going to do what I've always done. I'm going to fight the enemy until I can't, and I'm going to train this awkward little runt to do the same thing. And then I'm going to burn Snow's kingdom down."
"I see. Foxy, do you agree with your companion?"
"I don't trust Enobaria. But I don't trust you either. I want nothing to do with this. I want to leave. Please let me just go and deal with this myself." I fight back tears as Enobaria glares at my weakness. I whisper weakly, barely able to voice a dissenting opinion against all of the fear in my heart, "Please, I don't want to be in your rebellion. I don't belong there. I don't want to help. I want to be free. I'm tired of being someone's icon, playing someone's game, following someone else's rules. Let me go."
Pitiful, pathetic, frightened tears drip from my eyes against my will, but I see no sympathy in the room, not that I necessarily want it.
Alma Coin's stoic expression sours. "I think you should remember that the only reason you are alive is because of me and my district."
I take two steps forward and vehemently snap, "Am I supposed to be grateful to have survived? To have survived everything I went through?" I clench my fists and Alma Coin cocks her head to the side with a gleam of curiosity in her cold eyes. "I'm getting Clove back. After that, I'm ending this war by killing President Snow. Then I want to disappear and live the quiet life I deserve. I want to go home, but I want to go home with Clove, and with Snow's head on a platter. That's my plan." I point at her and bare my teeth in an echo of Enobaria I cannot resist. "You can fight by my side or get crushed under my heel but I won't let you stand in my way, whether you saved my life or not. I will only join your rebellion if you follow my rules."
I expect to be snapped in handcuffs, knocked out, even shot. But Alma Coin grins, to my shock. "That is the Soldier of Light. That is our Flower Girl. I thought for a moment we lost you."
"The Soldier of Light?" I have heard that title before, but never said that way.
"Your new title. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? Flower Girl is too tame for a rebellion. The Soldier of Light defines you far better in my opinion."
I doubt that, but I am too intimidated to disagree.
"And the… the Soldier of Light will have her deman… demands met?" I hold back an uncomfortable cough.
"You have my word that we will not make you do anything that violates your plan."
I look around the room and truly realize for the first time that there is no turning back, and hasn't been since the nightlock stunt.
All I can do is hope the word of Alma Coin is a word worth having.
[X]
After the meeting, an hour before District 13 curfew, I stare at my reflection in the mirror, alone in a communal bathroom now reserved for the rescued tributes and victors. I feel disgust, not because of my looks, but because of the person
I know who lives behind my sapphire eyes.
Soldier of Light?
They cannot possibly believe I would ever be strong enough to live up to that.
I stare at my hand, then at the thick, metal hairbrush I hold.
The decision is beyond impulsive.
I smash the hairbrush down. Hard.
Crack. Pain. Broken knuckle.
I yelp loudly at the agonizing break against my will. I wish I could have suppressed it because Finnick Odair rushes in to my rescue.
"What happened? Are you okay?"
"I just… had an accident."
He picks up my hand and I wince as he examines it.
Finnick frowns and meets my gaze. I avert my eyes in shame. "I know that wasn't an accident. Tell me why you did it. You can be honest. I've hurt myself before too. I understand."
I believe him. I believe him and so I tell the truth.
"I am weak and selfish and I have failed so many people," I choke out through my tears.
"Her name is Annie," he says, diverting the subject instead of trying to remove my deep, core beliefs about myself. I must admit it is a wise move.
"Annie Cresta?" I ask.
"Yeah." His smile is wistful and pained. "And I can see what you had with Clove wasn't an act. You love her, just as much as I love Annie. And it must hurt you just as much to know you failed her and let the Capitol take her."
"Does this ever get any easier?" I weakly ask.
"No," says Finnick. "It gets harder."
He takes me into his arms and I wish his warm embrace could heal me more than it does.
[X]
Grief is not as heavy as guilt, but it takes more from you. I have never felt so tired as I do now, grieving over Fission, grieving over Clove, grieving over my situation.
In the darkness during my first night in my new quarters in a bunk across from Enobaria, as I try to remember every aspect of Clove, her smirk, her hair, her eyes, a moment of sharp clarity hits me for the first time in years. Perhaps for the first time in my life.
I love her. I love Clove Conium. Nothing has been clear or certain to me since I was Reaped over a year ago, and so the clarity overpowers me.
I love Clove. I love Clove. I love Clove.
And now in this murky world I live in, I can be certain of at least one thing.
I fall asleep with a smile on my lips.
[X]
I wake up the next morning and look over to see Enobaria awake but unmoving in the bunk across from me. She stares blankly at the metal ceiling.
"I'm sorry," I say and she snaps around to face me. Somehow, her every movement seems both calculated and predatory, no matter how small.
"What did you do?"
"I'm sorry for falling for her. It was never fair to you."
"My only priority for years has been the preservation of Clove's safety. You preserved her safety with your act. Don't apologize. It's both a sign weakness and pointless in this situation."
"It isn't pointless in this situation. You're in pain," I say, and Enobaria's eyes violently flash. "You've been in pain for a long time."
She sneers at me with a dim glint of her fangs, rises from bed, and leaves the room, slamming the door behind her.
[X]
I will not lie. I spend most of my day trying to "accidentally" bump into Enobaria to find a way to apologize or at least clarify myself, but she eludes me until I find her walking towards a locked door with a shiny brand new keycard in her russet hand.
"Where are you going?" I ask awkwardly.
She does not acknowledge the morning's discussion. "I'm headed to see Cashmere. Coin asked me to talk to her and gauge her loyalties."
"Can I come?" I ask uneasily.
Enobaria waves her hand. "I don't give a fuck what you do. You should know that by now."
We stride wordlessly side by side down to a block or cells in the lower level. All stand empty and dusty but one, containing a beautiful woman in a tattered grey prison outfit they must have forced on her when they locked her up here.
Cashmere's eyes slowly rise from her manicured fingernails. She smirks at Enobaria, ignoring my presence for now.
"I knew you'd miss me," says Cashmere. "I told you, didn't I?"
"How are your knife wounds doing?" mocks Enobaria.
"Much better. Your aim has really deteriorated with age. You should work on that if you're planning on killing Snow."
I expect a fight but instead they both wear smirks that develop into laughter. I imagined they would hate each other, given their personalities, but perhaps I was mistaken. Or maybe they hate each other and we are all just finally losing our minds.
"What is it you want?" asks Cashmere at last.
"The rebellion wants to know about your loyalties."
"My loyalties lie with only three people. Me, myself, and, oh, I."
"I'm not surprised," says Enobaria. Neither am I.
"If your rebellion can help my vision of my future more than the Capitol can, I will happily help."
I step in. "How do you envision your future?"
"A Victor's life. The one Snow promised me but never properly delivered on. Can your rebellion give it to me or not? That's the question."
Coolly and calmly Enobaria replies, "I'll talk to Coin."
She starts to leave but freezes in place when I walk up to Cashmere's cell.
"I don't have a lot in common with you, I know. But we're both victors. I know that everyone seems to want to use us. They do, I bet. But we're victors, and victors represent hope, and courage, and doing what it takes to win and survive. The people need that right now a lot more than they did before the rebellion began. You may have been loyal to the Capitol, but it's time to stop being their pet and curling at the feet of your masters. It's time to live up to our role of giving hope and courage. You're vital to that. If you really are just loyal to yourself, you should do what's best for yourself. And I think being free is that."
Cashmere scoffs and pointedly rolls her beautiful eyes. "We'll never be free."
"I disagree. I want you on my side. I want your strength and your popularity. I want your help. The victors want your help. Fuck Snow. Fuck Coin. We're victors and it's finally time to make our own future instead of the one someone else's decides for us. I want you on my side, our side. Look in my eyes and know I'm telling the truth. I want your freedom just as much as I want my own. That's all."
I look down, then up at a speechless Enobaria, and then begin to leave.
But Cashmere's voice stops me.
"So that's how you've survived so long. I must admit you're good at it," she purrs.
I turn to face her, puzzled. "Good at what?"
"Making people believe they're more important to you than they actually are."
Before I can respond, Enobaria grabs my arm, digs her sharp nails into my flesh, and drags me from the room.
[X]
Later that day, Beetee takes a place beside me as I sit alone at lunch. I have not seen him since the Games and it brings a bright, genuine smile to my face. He looks at the bruise on my swollen knuckle and then shifts his gaze back to me.
"How are you, Sol?" Pause. "Oh, right, you prefer Foxy now. My apologies."
"I'll make an exception for you. You can call me Sol." I smile weakly.
"Why do you want to be called Foxy? Because you miss Clove?"
"Because Solanine is who I was before the Games. Foxy is who I am after them."
The following silence lingers, pure understanding and empathy in his eyes as he furrows his brow at me.
"But I do miss Clove. I miss her a lot."
"They won't kill her. President Snow is harsh, but he isn't wasteful, and he wouldn't sacrifice such an important piece in his game."
I stare at the untouched plate of flavorless food in front of me. "I wish she was dead. I wish she was dead and I wish I was dead too. Is that terrible of me?"
"It's understandable," admits Beetee. His voice is so calming and peaceful I cannot help but relax slightly. Even thinking about Clove in the hands of the Capitol always tenses every muscle in my body. "But you both have been through too much to give up now. I'm sure she feels that way too."
I sigh. "My mom collected books, especially ones about plants and trees. I remember reading about trees that need wildfire to release their seeds. They can only grow after destruction. I used to admire them, but now I just pity them."
He says nothing, just looks vaguely sad.
We eat together in silence, but at least a comfortable silence.
[X]
In the afternoon free time that Coin allots, Enobaria and I practice combat in a hastily cleaned store room. It is just big enough to fit a sparring match and a series of scrounged up weights and knives within.
I sweat profusely as I, a weakling, spar with a master. My broken knuckle kills me. My back kills me. I think Enobaria might want to actually kill me rather than train me.
Predictably, I lose every spar with her.
Sixteen so far today.
As I sit on the ground panting, laced with injuries inflicted by Enobaria, she glares down at me.
"You don't lose control," says Enobaria.
"Thank you," I say, perplexed that she would be so kind.
"That's not a compliment," she spits, glowering down at me. "You need to if you want to make a real kill. Like you did when you killed Glimmer. Let go of control."
I bristle against any better judgment. "I thought we were just sparring."
Enobaria locks eyes with me.
"That's why you lose."
She yanks me to my feet and we run the exercise again for the seventeenth time today.
[X]
I expect the door opening in the middle of the night to be Enobaria since the never came to bed. But I am wrong.
It's Primrose Everdeen. "I can't sleep. I'm really anxious. You're the only person I felt like I could come to."
I sit up in my bunk and try to turn on the light. No dice. It's past curfew. So I can only see her tint silhouette as she walks in to sit on Enobaria's empty bunk across from me.
"Your mom probably could help you more than I can," I say, a little flustered and definitely uncomfortable with the idea of trying to comfort someone. I wouldn't know where to begin.
"My mom really hasn't been the same since Katniss…" She makes a face of regret as if she just remembered to whom she speaks. "Thank you for what you did for my sister."
"I didn't do enough. She deserved better." I think of Rue, laid out in the flowers. I think of Thresh accepting the bracelet from me. I think of Cato asking Clove to stay with him in his last moments. "Everybody in that Arena deserved better."
"You deserved better too," softly says Primrose.
"I'm glad your injuries have healed so well," I say, hastily changing the subject.
We sit in silence. She shakes and wrings her hands and I wish I knew what to do.
Finally, she blurts out, "Is it okay if I ask about Clove?"
"Yeah," I lie.
"Do you love Clove?"
I am honest. I am shockingly honest when I say, "More than I ever thought I could."
"I had a crush on a boy back in Twelve." Primrose blushes, truly revealing her innocent age.
"What was his name?"
"Rory."
"Was he cute?" I ask, feeling pathetic at such small girl talk. I hope it helps her, because I will always remember my final promise to Katniss Everdeen.
She smiles. "Yeah."
Primrose stands up and lies down in my bed. I stiffly sit beside her.
"Do you know any songs?" softly asks Primrose.
I avert my gaze. "I'm not a very good singer."
"I don't mind."
"I know one. Clove sang - sings - it to me when I can't sleep."
"Okay."
I take a rattling, nervous breath and begin to sing, softly stroking the hair of a girl I hate myself for wishing was Fission instead.
"Hushabye, don't you cry…"
[X]
Two days later, as I sit alone with Enobaria in a deserted rec room, exhausted after another day of sparring and working out, the television turns on, making us both jump. The Capitol Anthem blares from televisions in multiple rooms, including the one we are in.
I look up and see Clove, beautiful and elegant, dressed in white, but with a dazed, half-drugged look in the eyes I think of so often before I fall asleep.
She opens her mouth to speak and Enobaria violently seizes the table. I breathe in a sharp, scared, staggering breath.
"What did they do to her teeth?" I ask in horror, my hand over my mouth in disgust.
Enobaria purses her lips and remains as silent as I do while Clove responds to Caesar while spewing Capitol propaganda.
I only let the tears fall when she pleads, "Foxy, come home to me. Please come home to me safely. I want our family, our kids, our happily ever after. We worked so hard for it, and I have never loved anyone as much as I love you. My heart and soul are yours, and know yours are mine too. Please stay safe and find a way home."
I know what she says in this interview is all coerced. She does not remotely sound like herself. None of it can be meant.
But a dark, selfish part of me hopes she means that part. I lose track of what else she says because I devolve into shuddering sobs.
"Stop blubbering. She's safe. As safe as she can be in Capitol hands."
"Safe? You call this safe!" I want to grab her and shake her but am too afraid.
Enobaria sneers. "As long as she's alive, there's a good chance I can get her back in one piece. Shut up and pull yourself together."
"Pull myself together?" I spit, ready to punch her in the face. "Look at her! Look at her! This is Clove we're talking about! I love her!"
"I know who she is! I've known her and I've loved about her for a lot longer than you have! I was going to marry her!" snarls Enobaria, dark eyes aflame.
I step closer even though everything in me wants to run. "I did marry her!"
Enobaria snarls like a wild animal, "Why do you think I hate you so much?"
We fall into a painful, deep silence as the broadcast crackles to a close.
[X]
Coin calls Enobaria and I in for a briefing mere hours after the broadcast.
"We need our Soldier of Light. We need to fight back. Snow made a move and it's time for our countermove."
Enobaria snaps, "We're in no condition to attack a superior force and you know that."
"You people from Two. So bloody minded. Wars can be won or lost in the editing room. I'm sending you and the Soldier of Light to make a vital propaganda video."
"Where?" I nervously ask.
"The heart of the rebellion. District Twelve."
CLOVE
My mouth hurts. It has for days, since my surgery, but I taste and feel the blood dripping from it. It makes since, due to the fact that I've just been cold cocked in the face by a peacekeeper as I woke up from the sedative early and tried to resist my arrest.
I imagine I'm waiting for my execution now.
I remember the first execution I ever saw. When I think about it, I still remember the clean and fresh scent of magnolias. I remember looking up at the skinny, twisted trees and the bodies of quarry miners that were swinging from them in the mountain breeze, ropes around their necks.
Around them, apples hung like drops of blood.
The fruit was ripe, red and tempting.
But the bodies were a sour and bitter crop for crows to pluck.
It is the last thing I remember before falling unconscious again.
Snow's serpentine voice yanks me from my pained slumber. I have no idea when, where, or how
I am right now. All I can smell is blood and roses and all I can see is his lizard eyes.
"You perhaps should have considered a second draft for that speech of yours."
"Where's Foxy? Where's Enobaria?" I demand, having no time for games. I never do anymore, and I never will.
He taps his bloated lips twice with his aged finger. "Your priorities are interesting. I thought you would be more concerned about where you are."
"Where are they?"
"Alive, you'll be pleased to hear, but in grave danger. They destroyed my Arena, and I will destroy them in due time."
"They…?"
"They destroyed the Arena with the help of District 5 and Cordelia Shepherd. They escaped with the aid of District 13."
"Don't mess with me, Coriolanus. Everyone knows District 13 doesn't exist."
"I am not toying with you, or even fencing with you in this conversation. District 13 is the headquarters of the rebels who took a great interest in your wife. They want to use her, and then reign in tyranny after overthrowing the government of Panem."
"So, where am I then?"
"You are imprisoned for the dangerous deeds you have done and the dangerous words you have spoken. You were honest when you told me you did not want a war. Unfortunately, you found one, and did not help yourself at the dinner you hosted. So now I am going to find out just how you slipped past my notice and have been working with the rebels all along. You see, I think you know much more about Solanine and Enobaria than you so claimed in your first question."
"I don't. I don't."
"You say that. But you broke your promise to be honest with me and you broke your promise to protect the Capitol with your actions." He stands and adjusts the hem of his suit. "We have ways of finding out the truth here, Clove Conium. Welcome back to the Tribute Center. I hope you enjoy your stay."
I gape as he leaves and locks my cell door behind him.
[X]
My captors, elite peacekeepers, follow through on Snow's threat the next morning. They grab me from my cell and roughly take me to what I can only describe as a torture chamber. They used to show us pictures of them in books about Medieval Warfare when we studied to be peacekeepers, before I was transferred into the elite program and mentored by Enobaria.
Enobaria. Think of Enobaria. Think of what she would tell you.
We were trained in capture tactics, but for the Games, not for the Capitol professionals.
They chain me to an uncomfortable chair, surrounded by instruments of torture, some that I recognize, and some that I do not. I refuse to give them the satisfaction of showing even the slightest sign of fear.
Two torturers slowly approach me, one smiling, the other looking a little uncomfortable. I think I can make this work.
I do what I do best. I threaten them.
"Killing you would feel really, really good. I'd like it. I do what I like. I do what feels good to me. So I'm going to kill you. And when I say I'm going to do something, I do it."
The torturer who was smiling says calmly, "Good luck."
I wait. They make me wait, taunting me as I stay silent and stoic.
The peacekeepers they ordered out of the room after the waiting that was intended to scare me at last return. The silent peacekeepers drop down a large, full metal bucket. It thuds and sloshes.
The colder torturer asks mockingly, "I hear you like swimming in quarries. Have you ever had a breath holding contest?"
"Fuck you," come Enobaria's words from my mouth. I even feel her fangs, painfully in my own mouth, seductively against my neck. She is with me in this torment, getting me through it.
The more reluctant torturer unshackles me, then places handcuffs behind my back and leaves the cuffs on my feet after freeing them from the chair. They lead me to the bucket and kick me to my knees.
"Where are Solanine Conium and Enobaria Whitethorn?"
I snort. They are just trying to scare me. President Snow already told me he knew that answer.
"I don't know." But I do know what will happen next. One of the peacekeepers grabs me by the neck and forces my head down into the ice cold water.
They leave me in there as I force myself not to struggle. As my vision starts to blur and the last air escapes my lungs in a surge of bubbles, they pull me out. I gasp in a deep, panicked breath.
"Who contacted you about your speech at the dinner party?"
"No one."
They force me into the water again.
"How did District 13 contact you?"
"They didn't."
Slam. My head hits the bucket again this time as they hold me in until I become faint and panicked again. I gasp three breaths this time. Blood trickles onto my face from my injured head.
"Tell us who ordered the destruction of the Arena or you are going to drown in that bucket. Who did Cordelia Shepherd collaborate with to destroy the Arena?"
"I don't know," I repeat. It is the truth. "But I do know I am going to kill you all."
The last thing I hear as my face plunges into the bucket again is, "Leave her in longer this time."
I struggle this time. I cannot help it. I feel for the first time that I may actually drown in this bucket. Once they let me out, I lunge. I leap from their grasp and cling onto the laughing torturer. Without a second thought, I clamp my teeth down and tear, before being shoved fiercely to the ground. It knocks the winds out of me as I stare up at the dirty ceiling.
"My ear!" he screams in agony, losing his cool composure in an instant. He clutches his bleeding head as tears stream from his eyes. "My fucking ear! The bitch bit my fucking ear off!"
They release me after that, throwing me roughly into the chair and pointing two rifles at me in case I try anything else violent.
Enobaria's advice echoes in my head and I know I will follow it every time they try to hurt me.
"You're lucky that's all I bit off!" I spit, pink saliva spraying from between my sharpened teeth.
Enobaria would want me to say that. I know she would.
But as I lie back, wretched and bludgeoned but unbroken, I cannot think of Enobaria anymore.
I can only think of my Foxy and her warm gaze.
[X]
That night, as I lie on the cold floor of my cramped cell, tasting the torturer's blood in my mouth, I conjure up an image of Solanine Conium, my wife, my Foxy. The curve of her lip, the way her hair falls, the way she smells.
Her memory gives me courage.
In my mind, I hear Enobaria telling me to fight. I see her pushing me to my limits, face close to mine as she pounds advice for winning into my brain.
Her memory gives me strength.
They both give me something worth fighting for.
[X]
I punch Cordelia Shepherd in the face the moment I see her. They shove her into a cell for me, and she looks beaten and broken and definitely not in need of another injury. But out of my rage I inflict it on her anyway.
"Tell them what they want to know!" I roar.
She grabs my arm and violently twists it until I yelp and brutally kick her away. We freeze in place after that.
"Hold it together, Conium!" Her bark sounds almost like Enobaria.
"I need to get out of here! I need to get to 13 so I can save Foxy and Enobaria!"
"You don't need to save them. They need to save you. They are both safe, and participating willingly in the rebellion. I am not giving up any information about the rebellion and your reaction clearly proves I was right to say we should keep you in the dark about it. You're going to sit there, you're going to behave, and you're going to be out of here eventually."
I walk to the other side of the room and start punching the wall, no matter how much it hurts my knuckles.
I sigh when my anger is out - mostly out, at least - and slump down onto the floor.
Cordelia eats the gruel they serve and says nothing more to me tonight.
We are not placed in the same cell again.
[X[
They torture me again today. This time with beatings, with scalpels, with pliers.
It goes on for hours upon hours. The pain is unfathomable.
I still give them nothing.
I have nothing to give.
[X]
I sing to myself in my cell tonight, my body sore and broken from the wounds of pointless torture. I know they know I have no clue, no answers. But I have no idea when they are going to stop doing this to me.
I sing the lullaby I always sang to Foxy, but as I near the end, my voice cracks and tears dare to drip from my previously strong eyes.
"All the pretty little…"
I break down, grateful no one can see me in this dark, filthy cell.
[X]
In the morning, they take me to the torture chamber again and shackle me to the chair. But instead of the torturer's, I face President Snow accompanied by four elite peacekeepers.
"I would like some privacy please," he says, and they leave, locking the door behind them.
"What do you want, Coriolanus?" I hiss through the fangs he forced on me.
The smell of blood and roses as he walks closer to me makes me want to retch.
Snow waxes, "It is easy to be in love with someone when you are apart. You can fantasize and pine about the image of them in your mind. But when you are together, someone clips their toenails on the bed and the other doesn't roll up the toothpaste tube and they fight. It would be lovely if you and Solanine had the opportunity to have those fights, well into old age. Wouldn't you like that, rather than being in love with a dead woman?"
I cannot reply. I feel sick.
"What did you inject me with?"
"Operation Asphodel, my dear girl. It was a test run in District Two that lasted for almost three decades, in preparation for an all out rebellion. We selected the best of the best of the students at the Academy, and gave them a series of treatments to make them the perfect soldiers. Do you know what makes a soldier perfect? It isn't skill, although that is invaluable. It isn't equipment, although we have the best."
"What is it?" My voice shakes and now I want to hurt myself instead of him. Or both. Both sounds good right now.
"Obedience, and unshakeable allegiance. Don't worry, your darling Enobaria will join you as soon as we recover her from enemy hands. And if you win this war for me, I'll give you Solanine Jones as your prize."
"I won't fight for you," I say as he withdraws a syringe from the torture platter and injects a lime green fluid into my neck. I try to struggle but cannot escape it. I become dizzy as I feel a strange sense of pure calmness and peace surge through my veins.
"You don't have a choice." Before I can argue or even try to get violent, he locks eyes with me and recites, "From the darkness you must fall, failed and weak, to darkness all."
I black out.
[X]
I fight against Operation Asphodel and the serum they inject me with twice a day. I fight against it with everything in me. Snow thinks he can control me and I want nothing in this world more than to prove him wrong.
They put me into training with people I recognize and people I do not. My platoon proves they are building a true army of mind controlled soldiers.
None of the others fight back.
I do.
I stab an orderly in the neck with a fork at lunch. His neck spurts satisfying blood as he screams and they struggle to save him. He lives. I do not care.
I damage the training equipment they try to get me to use.
I mess up on purpose.
I get in fights with the other Operation Asphodel subjects who have no choice but to obey the serum like slaves.
They do not have the same fight in them as me.
But despite my biting, my clawing, my destruction, my violence against the peacekeepers, they take me to training every day.
And I do not want to admit it to myself, but every day it feels like the serum gets stronger.
And I do not want to admit it to myself, but every day it feels like my will to fight gets weaker.
[X]
One morning, after three days being forced to spar and train under the influence of Operation Asphodel, I am not taken to the training rooms.
The peacekeepers take me to the elevator, and place me in the hands of garishly dressed and decorated stylists I vaguely recognize.
They dress me up all in white, a prim, innocent dress I would never be caught dead in if I had any say. When finished, the stranger stylists who stay eerily silent guide me to the backstage of the interview room of the Tribute Center. The makeup artists do their magic to hide my torture wounds and tired eyes.
A doctor again injects my concealer-slathered neck with the control serum from Operation Asphodel. I feel the familiar sensation flood through my veins.
I am dizzy from the injection again, and so my stylists help me walk to the stage and seat me across from Caesar. His appearance still looks lavish and Capitolian, but at the same time grim with silver hair and a dark red suit. The only flamboyant part of his outfit is a glittering black tie.
I blink twice from the brightness as the television cameras turn on and start broadcasting us live as mandatory viewing.
"Clove, it's good to see you and that you are well."
The words that come out of my mouth are not mine, but I say them with vivacity and emphasis no matter how hard I try to fight the serum. "I've been treated well. The president understands that I was under duress by an insurgency who want to overthrow the legitimate government of Panem when I said what I did. They threatened Foxy and I had no choice but to say such awful things."
"Tell us more. What do you think happened when the insurgents destroyed the Arena and took the tributes we could not rescue captive?"
I struggle with all of my might against the serum but it still holds control of my lips. "I know them both. I know their secrets, their quirks, all the things I love about my wife and my mentor - my ex - and I know them better than anyone else can imagine. They are loyal to the Capitol. They believe in this government. They were kidnapped and all I want is for the insurgents to return them safely to me. I miss them. I love them. I know they would be here if they could be. The Capitol gave me, and them, so much. I only hope they are safe, because I can't imagine they would agree to help people who want to replace our government with a tyranny that seeks to kill everyone they disagree with."
"If you could tell Solanine one thing, what would it be?"
"Foxy, come home to me. Please come home to me safely. I want our family, our kids, our happily ever after. We worked so hard for it, and I have never loved anyone as much as I love you. My heart and soul are yours, and know yours are mine too. Please stay safe and find a way home."
"What would you say to the Districts experiencing this new threat?"
"We need to fear the insurgents. We need to stop them."
Nothing else seems to be left to be said because the cameras turn off moments after focusing on Caesar patting my knee.
As I watch them dismantle the cameras, I conjure up an image of Solanine Conium, my wife, my Foxy. The curve of her lip, the way her hair falls, the way she smells.
Her memory gives me courage.
In my mind, I hear Enobaria telling me to fight. I see her pushing me to my limits, face close to mine as she pounds advice for winning into my brain.
Her memory gives me strength.
They both give me something worth fighting for.
The peacekeepers walk to the stage and put me in handcuffs.
