9/2/19

….….…

The Manipulation Games 3: Rebellion

Chapter Fourteen: Brainless

….….

"I'm alive."

Katniss's words creek from her throat like a rusted gear. Her eyes are glassy and unfocused, her hair frizzy and matted. Seeing her limp figure laying there helplessly almost makes me feel sorry for her. Almost.

"No kidding, brainless," I huff, plopping down on the foot of her bed. "Still a little sore?"

She winces as I steal her morphine drip, sighing in relief as it enters my bloodstream. I should feel guilty, but I just don't. Honestly my parents raised me better than this. It's not their fault, really. They just got stuck with a messed-up kid who grew up in a messed-up world.

And then her mistakes killed them.

"They started cutting back on my supply a few days ago," I apologize. "Afraid I'm going to turn into one of those freaks from Six. I've had to borrow from you when the coast was clear. Didn't think you'd mind. Maybe they were onto something in Six. Drug yourself out and paint flowers on your body. Not such a bad life. Seemed happier than the rest of us, anyways."

She doesn't interrupt me, so I continue rambling. It feels nice to have someone to rant to. Finnick and Annie come by every chance they get, but that's not very often. It gets lonely when you're cooped up in a tiny room all day. Then again, I really should be used to this kind of isolation by now.

"They've got this head doctor who comes around every day. Supposed to be helping me recover. Like some guy who's spent his life in this rabbit warren is going to fix me up. Complete idiot. At least twenty times a session he reminds me that I'm totally safe. How about you, Mockingjay? You feeling safe?"

"Oh, yeah. Right up until I got shot," she croaks.

Ugh. Poor little Mockingjay, thinks she has it soooo bad.

I scoff, rolling my eyes. "Please. That bullet never even touched you. Cinna saw to that."

She furrows her brow in confusion, muttering something about broken ribs.

"Not even, but they're bruised pretty good. The impact ruptured your spleen. They couldn't repair it- don't worry, you don't need one. And if you did, they'd find you one, wouldn't they? It's everyone's job to keep you alive," I groan, waving my hand dismissively. She's lucky- you can't say that about everyone.

"Is that why you hate me?"

Great, just great. Here comes a big, sappy conversation where I spill my guts and tell her everything. It'll end in us crying in a cuddle pile, sobbing on each other's shoulders and promising to be besties forevsies, and I just don't have the emotional energy for that right now.

"Partly. Jealousy is certainly involved," I admit, narrowing my eyes. Jealousy for the rebellion she gets to lead. Jealousy for the lack of sacrifice she's made to get here. "I also think you're a little hard to swallow, what with your tacky romantic drama and defender-of-the-helpless act. Only it isn't an act, which makes you more unbearable."

She stares at me with wide eyes, too tired to argue back.

"Feel free to take this personally," I add.

Katniss sighs, looking more defeated than ever. "You should have been the Mockingjay. No one would've had to feed you lines."

"True," I say, smirking as I grow woozy from the morphine. "But no one likes me."

"They trusted you though, to get me out," she admits quietly. "And they're afraid of you."

Afraid. That's what Everdeen really is. A scared little girl who was thrust into this against her will, just like I was. I blink, and for a moment I no longer see Panem's famed Mockingjay. I see myself, sixteen years old again, forced to choose between my dignity and the lives of everyone I loved. My heart twists, and I feel sick to my stomach.

"Here, maybe. But in the Capitol, you're the one they're scared of now."

The sound of footsteps thundering against the pavement snaps me to my senses. I scramble to unhook myself from the morphine drip, jamming it back into Katniss's arm effortlessly. I'm keenly aware of how easy it has become. The feeling of unease intensifies as Gale walks through the door. The memory of our recent encounter comes to mind. I desperately try to prevent the event that came after from resurfacing as well.

"Your cousin's not afraid of me," I say, hiding my fear with confidence. It's a skill I've learned well over the past ten years. "Are you, gorgeous?"

I bump into him with my hip as I pass him by, cackling wildly as I walk down the hall. My chest aches from laughing, my throat from screaming in terror. It's a wonder the hospital staff is letting me leave my room after what happened last night. Maybe they just don't care. It's more likely that Finnick didn't tell anyone, though.

I don't remember much of the incident. Just waking up early this morning on the floor, feeling dizzy and light-headed. Finnick found me dragging myself down the hallway on his way to visit Annie, and he helped me make it back to my room. It was only after he dropped me off that I remembered I was trying to escape. He gave me the number of Annie's compartment and made me promise to stop by later.

Making good on that promise, I slowly wobble my way towards her compartment. The walls in the living quarters are as gray and barren as the rest of the district, and my eyes long to see color again. I miss the rich browns and vivid greens of the forest, the faded red of my hatchet's handle, the tacky patterned wallpaper in Ivy's kitchen. In District 7, everything was warm and alive. Here in 13, things are clinical and lifeless. Maybe that's why my mental state has deteriorated so quickly.

Not that it was ever that great to begin with.

"Johanna!" Annie squeals as the door slides open. "It's so good to see you!"

I smile nervously, stumbling through the door. I hate that she has to see me like this, but there's really no other choice.

Finnick offers me a chair, which I gratefully and silently take.

"Feeling any better?" he asks, though the answer must be obvious. Concern is etched across his features, as well as Annie's.

"Not until I get out of this heck-hole," I sigh, crossing my arms and gazing at the ceiling. Gray. Everything is gray.

Annie bites her lip, hesitantly placing a small hand on my knee. "Hanna, I'm worried about you. We both are."

I shake my head. "Look, I'm fine. Everything's gonna be okay." Lies, blatant lies. "Now what was it you wanted to tell me, Scatterbrain?"

A small smile creeps onto her lips as she glances at Finnick. He smiles warmly, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"We're getting married."

If I had a drink, I would've spat it out.

"Married? Like, now?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Not now now," Annie giggles.

"Unless you want to officiate," Finnick teases, amusement glittering in his eyes.

I frown, looking around at the cold gray walls. "I mean, why here? Don't you want to wait until we're free?"

I always pictured Finnick and Annie's wedding being somewhere warm and colorful, because that's what they deserve. Somewhere like Four. Not somewhere like Thirteen. They deserve something so much more than that.

Finnick's smile never leaves his face as he pulls Annie closer. As if he can read my mind, he adds, "It's not the wedding itself we care about."

Something softens in my heart, and I feel myself genuinely smile for the first time in weeks. No, it's not the wedding itself they care about. It's the fact that they can have one at all.

"I'm happy for you," I admit.

"Thank you," Annie blushes, playing with the hem of her sleeve.

Maybe things will be okay after all.

…

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I still don't own The Hunger Games.

Well, it's been a while. Good news! This fic isn't dead! I'm stubborn and determined to finish it! I've been working on this trilogy for half a decade now, and I'll be darned if I don't see it to its proper conclusion.

In other news, your girl started college last month! It's been a huge adjustment, but I think I'll make it. Obviously, my studies will take priority over writing, but like I said I'm determined to finish this story. I've missed writing Johanna over the past year. I forgot how easy it was to crawl inside her head and see what she's thinking (five years plus a few months of writing from the same character's perspective will do that to you).

Next chapter: Odesta wedding!

Quote of the day!

"No human language can describe the disappointment I'm feeling right now." -Danganronpa, Kyoko Kirigiri

May the odds be ever in your favor,

~Spectrobes Princess :)