The next time I opened my eyes, I wanted her to be the first thing I saw. Her gray Seam eyes focused on me with that confusing look she had given me all through the Quarter Quell. The look that had made me believe that she loved me, too. Even if she didn't know it yet. But instead, he was there. Still.
Haymitch said, "Morning. Or should I say, afternoon."
He was clean and sober, which was a genuine shock to me. The way he was slumped in his chair, anyone would have expected him to be drunk. Especially if, as he had said, it was afternoon. He would've finished a bottle by now back in 12. Back… in… 12… Were we in District 12? I still didn't know where I was, or why I wasn't dead. Still didn't understand why I was here and she wasn't.
"They said you're looking better," Haymitch added. It felt like he was just trying to fill the silence. Trying to avoid seeing me cry, which I knew I was close to doing.
I shut my eyes until I saw yellow and red spots dancing on my eyelids. I imagined they were globs of paint on my canvas, and there was a brush mixing them together, creating a beautiful image. When the image began to take the shape of a face, her face, I rammed my palms into my eyes, trying to black out the vision. But I couldn't. Even with my eyes open, I could only think of Katniss.
Why hadn't we left together.
I never regretted a decision so much.
She could be dead because of me.
"Don't cry. It's okay."
My eyes shot open now. I croaked out, "Haymitch, I need answers."
"I got permission to take you out today," Haymitch said by way of reply. He stood up and looked down at me, lying in my bed, helpless. "You ready? Need help standing?"
I did, but I'm sure Haymitch knew that. Even before I nodded, he was helping me to a sitting position, then helping me to a wheelchair. My prosthetic leg sat useless on a tray at the end of my bed, surrounded by vials of different colors and sizes. I didn't need the leg with the chair. It looked pretty beat up anyway. Haymitch wheeled me out of my small room, and I finally got a glance of where we were.
A hovercraft. I don't know how I knew; I hadn't been on one many times. And the few times I had been on one, my thoughts had been preoccupied with the Games. And not dying. And Katniss. But something about the cramped space, the slight swaying of the halls, the pit in my stomach, the way we didn't pass anyone on the way to our location gave it away.
Haymitch stopped outside of a door, and I could hear muffled voices on the other side. The first voices I had heard since the arena, beside Haymitch's. I couldn't help but wonder who they were. I knew I shouldn't hope, but a small part of me started to believe Katniss would be on the other side of the door. She would be drinking coffee or hot chocolate, and she would be waiting for me. Maybe she wouldn't run to hug and kiss me at first sight, but maybe she would smile and say my name. But I knew she wasn't there. And I knew I was getting my hopes up for no good reason. My own thoughts were paining me more than any injury I sustained from the arena.
When Haymitch didn't push me into the room, I turned to look at him. He glanced at me for a moment, then his eyes darted away. His expression was torn; he frowned.
"What's wrong?" I tried to ask. My throat burned. I wanted water. I just knew there would be some on the other side of the door.
"Some people in here, Peeta," he started. "Well. I'm sorry. For what may happen."
I didn't understand what he meant until he opened the door, and the first face I was greeted with was Gale Hawthorne's. And it was definitely not pleased to see me alive. And alone.
They moved us the next day. First, they took Johanna. She went screaming the entire way, and I could still hear her a couple of minutes after she was gone from the room. I didn't know if I would ever see her again, and though she had never been my favorite person, the thought of my last image of Johanna Mason being her thin, beaten body being pulled against her will to an undoubtedly torturous fate made me feel miserable.
The feeling continued when I was blindfolded and restrained at my wrists and ankles. I was pushed around for what felt like hours until finally my blindfold and restraints were removed, and I found myself in a highly decorative but empty room. Well, maybe cell was a better word for it. The walls had intricate moldings and wallpaper, but there was no furniture, no windows, and from what I could see, no doors.
It was not what I expected for the Mockingjay. I had expected a dark basement cell, perhaps with mold dripping from the ceiling or with chains holding me against a wall while rabid animals chewed at my toes. I knew Snow's Gamemakers had no limit to their imagination when it came to torturing tributes. Why would I be any different now? In my eyes, the Games were not over yet. Maybe they would never be over until either Snow or myself dropped dead.
I wondered which of us would get the last laugh.
Other than myself, there were only two other things in the room: a pile of clothing and an Avox. When the Avox finally made eye contact with me, I wished she hadn't. Her stare was harsh and angry. So I decided to look at the pile of clothing first.
With a bit of difficulty, I staggered to the heap, and up close the sight of them made my stomach churn. Cinna's designs for me. My first interview dress, outfits from the Victory Tour, even my wedding dress lay in the ragged heap. Torn, stained, ruined. I reached for one, my dress from the District 12 Harvest Festival, and clung to it. It was a soft, comforting chocolate brown color, the skirt deceptively full of multiple layers. It flared out when I wore it, especially when I turned. It was a perfect reminder of not only Cinna, but of home.
They would remove these from my room after today, I knew they would; the garments had done what Snow intended. If these were here, there was no way Cinna was alive. And some part of me hoped he wasn't rather than considering what the alternative might be. These clothes reminded me of the people that were already lost because of me. Reminded me that there were still people out there I loved that could be hurt or killed because of me.
My thoughts once again jumped to Peeta. Peeta. Haymitch and I swore to protect him this time around, and I was doing a rotten job of it being stuck here. But maybe Peeta wasn't here with me. Though, I didn't know where else he could be. I sat down next to the clothes and tried to piece together all the information I had.
Johanna said Peeta was alive and that he was with "them." I was still alive, but the "them" I was with wasn't reassuring. But if he was also with us, wouldn't Johanna have just said that he was? Why had she been so secretive?
She mentioned Haymitch. Does that mean… was he saved by Haymitch? Is that what Snow meant by a plan? Haymitch coming to... save us in the arena? It didn't make sense. Haymitch didn't have the power to do something like that. Peeta must be here with me somewhere, and they were all playing games with me. Trying to trick me into saying or doing something to make matters even worse, which didn't seem possible.
My head started to hurt, either from my injuries or from the insistent thoughts of Peeta.
I draped the Harvest Festival dress over my shoulders, and this time, turned to the Avox. She was very strong looking, maybe previously a soldier of some kind. She glared at me, still, but I couldn't help myself.
"Hello," I said. My voice shook, still hoarse.
She was still and silent.
"My name's Katniss." It was a stupid thing to say to the person assigned to watch me. She knew. And even if she did want to do introductions, there was no way for her to tell me her name. I felt accidentally cruel, so I turned away. At that moment, I heard a shout from somewhere outside of the room. I jumped at the noise and spun in circles to try and locate the origin of the sound. I rushed as fast as I could to the wall opposite me and put my ear to it. Silence, but then, another scream. I gulped.
It was Johanna Mason.
Though Gale was the first one I saw, Finnick Odair was the first one I heard.
"Peeta, you're looking well," he said.
I pulled my eyes off of Gale's scowl to find Finnick in a chair near the back of the room. I wish I could say the same for him, but truthfully, he was not looking well. He was trembling, and the skin under his eyes was black with exhaustion. It made me wonder how long we had been on the hovercraft, and how long it had been since the explosion.
"You're handsome as always, Finnick," I said.
He gave a smile that showed he knew I was lying, but I appreciated him not saying anything further on the subject.
"I'm sure you have questions," Gale said.
I looked back to Gale, opening my mouth to ask him the first one on my mind. Why are you here? Then I remembered Haymitch's words.
"I didn't get my way. Not this time."
And I understood Gale's glare all the better.
I only nodded. Haymitch wheeled me up to the table sitting in the middle of the room, and for the first time in my memory, he understood me without words and poured me a glass of water. I grabbed it in a hurry and started to chug down the contents. It was smooth against my rough throat, and I felt like I could speak again.
"There was a plan," Haymitch started, "from the beginning to get you and Katniss out. Some of the other victors were in on it, too. Obviously Finnick, also Johanna and Beetee. Wiress and Mags, too. Even the morphlings knew."
The more names he said, the more the Quarter Quell started to make sense. All the sacrifices, all of the allies. For me? For us? No, just for Katniss. I knew they were for her.
"Why didn't you tell us?" I whispered.
"We couldn't risk you knowing."
I raised my eyebrows.
"We couldn't risk Katniss knowing," Haymitch amended.
"I wouldn't have told her."
"It was better to keep it a secret. Then, if the Capitol got their hands on either of you, you wouldn't know anything."
"If the Capitol got their hands on either of us, it wouldn't matter," I said. My throat started scratching again, so I drank more water. "We'd be dead anyway."
The room got quiet. Haymitch, Finnick, Gale, and me. That was all there was. And I understood what I had known from the beginning, really, but was too scared to admit.
"Where are the others?"
"Beetee is still recovering. Here, just down the hall, actually," Haymitch answered.
I shook my head. That's not what I was asking.
Haymitch only looked at me.
"Enobaria, Johanna, and… Katniss," Gale said, "were taken by Capitol hovercrafts as we were pulling you out."
The room stayed silent. No one needed to say it. We all knew. But for some reason, I found myself voicing the words that no one wanted to say.
"They're going to kill her."