My vision blurs as pain washes over me. I don't know if I want to scream, lunge in attack or run away. Instead, my lungs freeze and my feet remain planted. In doing so, every muscle in my torso locks in place, creating a massive pressure against my ribs which ignites a swell of fire that rises to my face. It's Gale who reaches for my hand first. He still doesn't know what Thread did to me, so he must be reaching to me for his own support. His other hand is clenched in a fist tighter than my insides.
Somehow, in my utter shock, I must appear stoic as Coin locks her eyes on me, almost studying my reaction - keeping mental notes for later no doubt. Coin doesn't even glance at Johanna who is grappling with the guards that block the doorway to Thread's prison cell. Johanna swears and screams and her curses echo down the long dark hallways paired with sounds of her pounding on the guards' armored chests. After a few moments, Finnick takes her in his arms and slowly walks her away from view of our abuser.
I force myself to look at him, at Thread, the small ragged man shackled to the cold tile floor next to the drainage grate. He has been rendered unconscious for our meeting today and his head is propped against the wall. The restraints have painted his wrists and ankles red.
"An incentive to follow your schedules, follow orders and get back into fighting shape. In three weeks time you will be sent to the Capitol, but not before we publicly execute our Commander Romulus Thread here, in two weeks time," Coin says, keeping her hands behind her back. "Think of it as a dress rehearsal for President Snow."
Execution. Thread is going to die in two weeks, and we are going to kill him.
I slowly release the air from my lungs and try not to grimace as I relax my ribs. Coin doesn't break her gaze as she waits for her Mockingjay to respond. Fear, mixed with pain and nausea swirls in my stomach. Seeing Thread again made that night on the dusty kitchen floor come rushing back in my mind and senses.
I rub my nose and clear my throat, "How was he captured?" I ask.
Coin runs her tongue slowly across her lip, relishing the words she is about to say, almost eager to see my reaction when she reveals their method.
"He hid himself among the District 12 refugees after the bombing."
My mouth turns sour as Gale's hand tightens around mine. The corset of pain wraps around me again, crushing my ribs.
"He's been here the entire time?" Gale asks through gritted teeth, giving me a moment to find my breath again. "Not a single person recognized him? He's the most hated man in our District!"
"Yes, the entire time. He remained mostly hidden though, like a rat in our vents and sewers. I doubt anyone even saw him. Because of his reclusive behavior, we don't believe he has been able to make any outside communications, so our exact location is still safe."
I see Finnick holding Johanna up, her knees must have buckled with Coin's announcement. He holds one hand to her cheek and whispers something to her.
"There were four other Peacekeepers though," Coin continues, her hands now clasped in front of her. "The first one was found in a restricted area, crawling around air vents and shafts. We had him in holding for a few days until we learned about the Capitol's very own interrogation methods," Coin says with a mischievous smile. "I must say, Johanna, you did well. He couldn't make it past two hours of your treatment; gave everyone up, just like that." Johanna scowls at Coin's remarks. I figured Johanna to be the vengeful type, her reaction to Coin's comments tells me that she may not be so eye-for-an-eye after all.
"Why are you just now telling us this? He looks like he's been in there for months," Finnick asks, keeping his arms around Johanna. I imagine everyone's minds are breaking at the thought of this monster hiding among us.
"Our initial discovery of the imposters was during the Rescue Mission. They must have assumed with our attention drawn elsewhere, we wouldn't notice their attempts at hacking the main line, piggy-backing off of Beetee's work."
I remember prisoners being transported through the hallways shortly after my recovery from Peeta's attack. To think I was that close to him then without knowing. To think, even before, I could have passed him in these hallways when I was aimlessly wandering around alone.
Coin continues with a smug and proud look, "because we are so strict with how our food is handled and rationed among our citizens, our stowaways found it very difficult to obtain any food for themselves. We figure they had to find what was left in the pig slop and compost piles."
These methods weren't beyond Gale and myself, so we did not react to their ways of foraging. Finnick, however, made a very audible retch at the thought.
"Each one of you has some very personal ties to our prisoner," Coin motions to one of the guards to close the door, bringing our attention back to her. "Therefore, I want to be the one to be able to extend the greatest gift to you all; revenge."
I needed time to process. I needed time to breathe. I couldn't hold this in for much longer otherwise Gale would be holding me up too. Even though I didn't give anything away, Coin lets on like she may know there is more between Thread and I besides that right hook he gave me during Gale's whipping.
"Two weeks," I manage to say and after giving Gale's hand a squeeze, I let go and walk back down the hallway. I don't hear footsteps follow me, however, I hear the group interrogate Coin further on the specifics of the matter. I painfully quicken my pace once I round the first corner. Two more corners and I make my way through a service gate to an old favorite and most secure cubbyhole.
Here, behind a control panel, I can finally wrap my arms around my throbbing ribs as I cry. I feel like I am on the train again leaving District 12 for my sophomore visit to the arena; pretending all day that everything was fine, even though my entire body ached, inside and out. I remember how close Effie was when Thread flexed his authority on me before I boarded. The effort not to cry out, not to fight back, not to show any weakness or beg for any help, tore at my heart. When I had to walk past Effie in the main train car to my compartment, it felt like miles. Once inside, I was truly alone to collapse and purge any and all feelings of the last day.
My mind splits into pieces - It sickens me to think he had been here the whole time. It sickens me to be reminded of his crimes. Yet, the elation I feel to have justice at my fingertips in a matter of weeks leaves me utterly overwhelmed.
I try to slow my breathing and stop my racking sobs from grinding at my ribs. "My name is Katniss Everdeen. I'm seventeen years old. My home was District 12. I was raped," I paused to clear my throat, still not used to the taste of the word, "I was raped by Commander Thread, the same person who hurt Gale. I was in the Hunger Games. Twice. I escaped and I am now in District 13. I will kill my oppressor. I will kill my rapist."
This enemy, this man, who was huge enough to crush our District in his gloved fist, is rotting on a piss soaked floor.
I feel like the walls of the arena are crashing down again.
._-'-_.
The guard who had found me left my arm throbbing by the time he dropped me at my compartment door in the hospital wing. It was well past curfew when I emerged from my hiding spot and well past the guards patience; this had been the third time he found me wandering about the halls since my arrival. I rub my arm and give a rude gesture as he walks away to return to his patrol.
I know I wasn't off to a great start at Coin's command of following orders, however, I figured that wouldn't start officially until tomorrow. I was still digesting the situation on my own. I wasn't ready to talk to Gale. I wasn't willing to divulge the fact that he has shared me with a mutual enemy. Even though Cressida had been my confidant once before, I feel that another dose of my shame would be too much.
Back in the Training Center, when Finnick and I were trading bullseyes for secrets, I had only revealed that I was familiar with Thread's form of punishment. Finnick, being clever enough, didn't need clarification on the matter. It wasn't until my visit after Annie's return that he finally fully confessed the details of his session with the tyrant. I know that Johanna was well acquainted with Thread, but did she know about me?
I stand at my door, staring at the handle. Is this the time to strengthen my alliance with my fellow tribute?
Once inside the dimly lit room, I find Johanna's frail body curled up on my bed, tethered by the thin tube that delivers a painless twilight.
"Johanna, are you awake?" I inquire while simultaneously announcing myself. She stirs at the sound of my voice so I approach the bedside. Her eyes are puffy and pink and her gaze hazy, but she's conscious enough to recognise me as I crawl onto the bed beside her.
"You okay?" I ask, lightly rubbing my hand over her shoulder.
"I still hear them, you know," she murmurs. Her hands are clasped weakly by her mouth, conveniently close to wipe her running nose when she sniffles. I run my hand over her short hair which is almost long enough to comb between my fingers. She's warm, but not feverish, even still, I reach down and pull the bundled blanket up over her feet and bare legs.
"The mockingjays?" I'm confused, in the arena, she said there was no one left they could use against her. My hand resumes its duty of stroking her hair, administering what little comfort I had to offer in partnership to the morphling. Johanna lightly shakes her head allowing a fresh tear to fall. She closes her eyes and she whispers something I can't make out, but by the way her lips moved, I believe she said, "I'm sorry."
"Hey, Johanna," I shake her shoulder lightly, just enough to get her eyes to focus on me again. "We're gonna kill that bastard."
When she closes her eyes again, she smiles.
The next day after training and a lovely administration of a cocktail of District 13's wonder drug to speed up my healing process, I am back in my bed digging my heels into the mattress and chewing on a rubber hose tourniquet. This method of rehabilitation has to be done sober because any pain remedies or morphling can interfere and render the concoction useless. This means my morphling drip had been removed from my room completely. My appetite is non-existent so I remain in my room during dinner.
When Johanna finally returns, she is accompanied by Gale, who keeps his eyes to the ceiling and remains a safe distance from Johanna's flirtatious pinching fingers. I notice her disappointment when she discovers the I.V. unit is missing. She knows to keep that conversation for later and she curls up on her bed with a newly acquired training manual from this morning.
Gale has something in his hand which is loosely wrapped in a handkerchief. I attempt to sit up, but just lifting my head acts as bellows on the already inflamed flesh around my ribs. I wince hard and let my head fall back onto the pillow. Immediately, Gale is at my side and fussing over me. I wave him away with my fingertips and assure him I'll be fine.
"I've heard about that stuff, your treatment, I mean," Gale says, pulling a chair close to my bed. "There were some workers who got stuck in a cave-in when we were bombed. Coin doesn't like having people out of commission for too long, especially when there is work to be done. Don't worry, you'll feel a lot better in a day or two," Gale says, taking one of my hands. We hadn't seen each other since our stowaway was revealed, his hands hold mine much softer this time.
"I couldn't find you last night. Are you alright?" Gale asks after a moment.
I think of Johanna and her reaction to Thread's sudden appearance and I'd rather we not discuss him while she is in the room. So I simply nod, and glance over to Johanna's direction and give a tiny shake of my head. Gale catches on immediately and clears his throat.
"Ah, well. Uhm, oh! I brought you these," he exclaims and presents the balled up handkerchief. I look at it quizzically and wait for him to explain. Gale smiles mischievously and plucks the edges of the cloth away to uncover a small bundle of green grapes. My eyes go wide and I gasp at the prize. Gale stifles a laugh and puts a finger to his lips.
"You missed dinner, and I figured these would be something easy to nibble on. I remember all I could eat was snow after my whipping. No ice here, so these are the closest things I could find," he says softly and plucks a single grape from its vine. He admires it and then looks back to me, "May I?"
How could I resist? I smile and open my mouth to accept his offering, this way I can avoid moving any muscle that would be angry with me. My teeth gently settle on the firm skin of the fruit and I anticipate the burst of flavor, my mouth already watering. Gale eagerly watches me, waiting for the exact moment the juice hits my tongue.
Instantly, a relief washes over me in a wave of sweet nectar. I chew slowly, keeping the flesh in my mouth as long as I can, tasting every drop before it disappears. The last time I had something this sweet was the orange back in 2, and I had devoured it in a frenzy. I don't want to make that same mistake. Gale offers me another and I shake my head. I'll save the rest for later to break up the monotony of the dull taste of the rubber tourniquet.
Just then, Gale's communicuff begins to blink and buzz. I've learned to stop asking where he's mysteriously being beckoned to. This was the first time in a long time that we had a nice, simple moment that didn't mean anything, and I was just starting to enjoy it. He stands and leans over me, "Heal up quick, yeah? The turkeys are starting to forget about you," he says with a wink and kisses me before he is pulled away by another session of buzzing and beeping.
"Ooooo, a little family affair we got goin' on," Johanna chortles when Gale leaves the room. I roll my eyes, completely forgetting about his assumed identity as my cousin.
"You know he's not my cousin, right? That was supposed to protect him back home," I say, turning my head in her direction. She is sitting up in her bed cross legged, her training manual on her lap.
"No shit, brainless. Otherwise it would be incredibly creepy weird to have your cousin sneaking in here in the middle of the night to make sure you're still breathing."
I think back to how I wouldn't leave his side after Thread whipped him for poaching. How could I blame him for checking in on me during my convalescence. This was becoming a regular meeting place for us it seemed; my recovery after the escape from the arena, shrapnel in my leg from 8, Peeta's reunion and now my prize for toppling District 2.
I remember when I stole a kiss when Gale was most vulnerable. How many kisses had Johanna seen Gale steal?
"It would take the orderly changing my sheets to figure out if I weren't breathing," Johanna continues and throws her book across the room; it slaps the tile and slides with a hiss for several feet before hitting the wall. "Even then, they would probably just fluff me up like they do the pillows and prop me back up until the next laundry day."
"Oh, c'mon. Don't be so pitiful."
"Truly, how many visitors do I get in here that aren't wearing a lab coat?"
She was right. The only thing anyone was interested in when they came to see her was her temperature and bowel movements.
"Cressida is really nice. I'd wish you would give her another chance. She could help you talk things out."
"Fuck her. I've already got a therapist."
"She just wants to help," I say, pushing myself up onto the pillow a few inches.
"The same way she helped by telling me everything was going to be okay right before I strapped down in bondage? The same way she told me the axe handle was just a prop?"
I imagine Johanna's scene in my mind and picture Cressida speaking low and sweetly; her charm that convinces anyone they could do anything. I see Cressida talking to me the same way. I shake my head when I wonder what kind of themes Peeta and I would have endured. Cressida told me the shoot was rough, but not like that. I doubt either of us want to dwell on the particular details so I move on.
"She was forced to do it. Cressida said they had guns and there was no way out of it."
"That excuse gets thrown around a lot. We all have been forced to do things," Johanna says as she circles her finger in the air. "The only difference is, she benefited off of it - she got a paycheck. Her family wasn't threatened, her body wasn't scarred. She never had to deal with the constant looming doom. She was rewarded and that's why anyone Capitol can kiss my ass."
Johanna rubs her thumb on the back of her other hand, trying to scrub away the little black lines left behind from medical tape. She too has been cleared from any intravenous supplements now that we have graduated to combat training.
"Will you be okay?" I ask, imagining the throbbing pain of my burning flesh in the place of her mind - begging to be extinguished by morphling. However, she doesn't get my meaning and rolls her eyes with a huff.
"Are we ever going to be okay? Even if I can take a shit on Snow's skull, I doubt I will ever be okay."
"The morphling I mean. Will you be okay without it?" I had grown to appreciate its capabilities and I too have been on the verge of overuse. I understand the dependency for a fractured bone, but not a fractured psyche.
Johanna waves her hand, "It had to happen anyway. I kind of miss my little arena demons peeling the flesh off my face in my nightmares."
Our compartment is deathly quiet; no machines or beeping computers, just our huffs and groans as we lay in our beds waiting for sleep. Johanna had taken to pacing, but grew bored with that quite quickly. My tourniquet hose was now in two pieces and I only had three grapes left. My training manual lies next to Johanna's on the floor - I had read cover to cover twice and gave up on it as my only source of entertainment.
"What did you do for fun back home?" I ask, now curled up on my side. It is past lights out, however, we are allowed a dim light to remain on. I'm not sure if it's for patients to be able to traverse the room without tripping over their wires or gowns in the middle of the night, or if it's meant for those of us with nightmares. Either way, I appreciate its presence.
Johanna's foot had been bouncing for the last hour. She lies on top of her blankets, because getting under them meant untangling herself from the sheets when she wanted to pop up again to pace the room.
"Fun?" she laughs, "god, what's that? Oh, I guess I remember a time when climbing trees was fun. Before it was a full time job, or a way to hide from someone. We would race to the top or jump from one tree to another." Johanna's gaze ventures to the ceiling during her reverie. She pauses for a moment and turns back to me, "For being a coal miner's daughter, I was pretty surprised to see how well you can climb." Johanna sits up now with the soles of her feet pressed against each other, letting her knees bounce.
"I used to hunt in the forest, just outside the border fences," I confess. "I'd be up there for hours waiting for deer or turkeys. There was a lake way out there too, so some days when it was too hot for even for the squirrels, we'd jump from the branches into the water," I say, feeling the corners of my mouth turn upwards. "My dad taught me. Not only how to hunt but how to swim and climb."
Johanna's knees stop bouncing and she looks down, chewing on her lip. "I didn't like going out to the woods with my dad much. He taught me a few things too," she clears her throat.
"Oh?" What lessons could be so troubling for a young girl in the woods? I remember how gross it was to skin my first squirrel by myself.
"Let's see, how not to gag for one. Uhm, how not to use your teeth, and if you didn't want to get smacked upside the head, how to swallow," Johanna says, the muscles in her jaw flex as she grits her teeth.
I look at her for a moment and shake my head, "I don't…"
"I was his favorite little girl, you know. I was the Peacekeepers' too, apparently. He made some pretty good money off of those photos," she says as she absent mindedly scrapes the dirt from her fingernails using a thumbnail. "Didn't matter if it was a million dollars, he'd just use that to drink even more. Never used any of it for our family. I still took tesserae."
Everything clicks in my head so hard, I can actually hear it. My mouth turns sour.
"Soon, the photos weren't enough," Johanna continues, no longer talking directly to me, but reciting her story like it was the hundredth time. "That's how I learned to be quiet and pathetic, they weren't interested for long if I did that. Thread though, was the opposite. If I was quiet, it would last way longer - kind of a cat and mouse game."
"That's horrible," I say, choking on my words. On top of everything else she's told me, not only did she have to survive her own father, but Thread was among the ranks as well. "I'm so sorry," I add.
She looks up as if she just snapped out of a dream, "Sorry? God, you sound just like everybody else." Just then, she hops off of her bed and makes for the door. "Like you know anything. You're no better than they are and you sure as shit aren't better than me," she says and takes hold of the door handle. "Fuck!" Johanna shouts, and then jiggles and pulls the door handle frantically. "It's like we're back in that fucking training center again," she huffs in defeat and turns to put her back to the door.
I'm surprised at her sudden change in mood, how she suddenly turned on me when I expressed my sympathies.
"I'm not like them," I retort, sitting up completely in bed quite offended. The pain is still there, but it seems to have ebbed for the time being. "I know plenty, and if you don't want my support, fine. You don't have to be a bitch about everything to everyone. There are people here trying to help you, you know?"
"Oh, yes you are like them. Fucking costumes and fanfare. You can't get anymore Capitol than that," Johanna says as she slides down and sits on the floor.
"This costume has moved us forward. This costume has made a difference - Unlike your sulking pity party. You're just like you were in your games. Pathetic." Being stuck in this room with a mopey Johanna has put me on my last nerves. She used to be so sure and so cocky which I realize I kind of admired. I feel the same annoyance as I did with Peeta - they were tortured and all I can do is be snippy with them. It didn't matter, my words were out and I said them and I kind of meant them.
"What have you done in the last five years to make all this shit stop?" I continue, raising my voice a little, but I don't care anymore, "I'm at least trying my best with what they keep throwing at me. I want this to be over and the only way to do that is get up and fight." Johanna has her knees up to her chin, her leg bouncing again. Even from across the dim room, I can tell her eyes are starting to water.
"Fuck you. Save that speech for another one of your stupid propos," she wipes her eyes with the back of her hand and goes into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
This is going to be a long night, I think. I wasn't about to have a pissing contest with someone who has just been tortured for several weeks. So I lay back and shove the tourniquet back in my mouth,
After about twenty minutes, I can hear Johanna start to scream in the bathroom. Things are being tossed along with obscenities. Then, she throws the door open and runs to our compartment door. "I can't be in here anymore! I can't have any locked doors! Someone let me out! Please!" she screams and tears at the door handle. "Someone let me the fuck out of here!"
Pain be damned, I hop out of my bed and run to Johanna. I remember how Finnick took her in his arms, how just the simple task of touching seemed to calm her. I grab her from behind and turn her around to face me, and pull her into a tight embrace. She struggles at first, unsure of the meaning behind my actions.
"Hey, hey. Come on now, shhh," I say, bringing her head to my chest, "You're not alone. That's what I have been wanting to tell you - you are not alone. I'm here and I understand," I say quietly, stroking a hand over her short greasy hair. Sobs shake her body against mine as she leans her weight against me. I think of Prim when one of her many strays she had rescued had died and I was the only one to console her in our mother's absence. Johanna is so small and fragile, not much bigger than my sister, especially now that we are seated on the floor.
I break our embrace and hold her face in my hands, "Johanna, we're allies remember? You're not the only one fighting here."
"I'm just so tired," she sighs and wipes her puffy brown eyes, "you think I've been hiding and cowering for the last five years? You're wrong. I've had to survive every hour of every day. I thought it would all go away after my games, that's what they promised me. That's what they said the deal was, when I. . ." she stops suddenly and looks me straight in the eye. I nod for her to go on.
". . .I killed my father."
I sit back on my knees and tightly take her hands in mine.
"Right there in the wood shed," she says shakily. "I waited for him, like I had many times before. That last time, I swung my axe right up under his ribs as hard as I could and I ran off leaving him there face down on the ground. When they found him two days later, they figured he'd been so drunk he fell on his axe by accident. Thread knew differently. I guess he saw I had some fight in me and wasn't going to be so easy anymore. I had two choices, have my name put on top of the Reaping Bowl or be hanged for my father's murder."
That's what Finnick meant by Johanna's Reaping being rigged. Her odds have always been against her. I pull her to me and wrap my arms around her again. "I really, truly am sorry. I mean it," I say and kiss her forehead. "And if you don't want to accept that, you can fuck right off."