Song Suggestion: The Neighborhood- Sweater Weather

The Puppet or the Strings

Hours Later

Her head felt like a mine explosion, all colors and burning pain. Cotton ash coated a thin layer on her tongue. It took a few moments for her to remember that she was not, in fact, dead. It took another few moments to remember.

She had been drugged and kidnapped.

By Cato.

Her eyes snapped open, blinking away the harsh light above her head.

Where was she? She lay on a bed, but it was softer than anything she ever felt. The closest equivalent was the time she made a large pile of fall leaves and jumped from the low limb of a tree into their depths. But this was a hundred times better. Her body sunk into a perfect mold, cradling her. The sheets were liquid water as she passed them between her fingers.

Was she in heaven?

She couldn't stop a tiny groan or her fingers from trailing across the sheets.

"I see you enjoy luxury." The voice came out raspy.

Prim shot up and dragged the edges of the sheets in a crumpled ball against her chest as a pathetic form of protection.

Cato lounged in a chair to her right. He wore cotton pajamas and left his long-sleeved shirt unbuttoned. The ridges of his abs were rippled waves even in a sitting position. She tried to calm her frantic heartbeat. There was a window right beside him, but the image blurred with movement.

Dread laced her veins, poisoning her mind with paralysis.

"Where am I?"

"On the train back home."

Not her home.

"Wha—"She couldn't finish her thought. "But— Bring me back."

She meant to sound demanding, but it came out soft, tinged with the fear she hated so much.

"Afraid I can't, little bird. You see, I need you. And until that fact changes, there aren't many options for you."

"Why do you need me?" She was pleading.

"You'll find out soon enough. You probably won't like it."

That was all she needed. Prim bolted. Her legs unfurled, and she sprung from her seated position. Praying to fly to the door. He caught her and flung her back towards the bed before she made it a foot. He was a lion, faster than his prey, sinking his teeth into its victim before it could escape.

His hands grabbed her hands like a strike of lightning and pulled them above her head. His body leaned on top of hers, sinking them deep into the feathers of the mattress. Their noses touched, and their lips were inches apart. The heat of his breath tickled her lips with his quick puffs of air.

"There will be no escape, not in this game. I've claimed you, and the reasons don't really matter. Until death or deliverance you're mine, and that comes with certain… rules. No questioning, no disobedience. Here we learn things hard and fast. Fight or die." He opened his mouth letting his teeth graze against her jugular. "Understand?"

She was almost too distracted to answer. The room felt hotter, and her pulse jumped against his teeth.

She nodded. What else was she supposed to do in this position? She was wary of what violence he would think up if she refused.

"You stole me. Someone will notice."

"And then what? They'll tell on me?"

He stared at her mouth as if distracted. She recognized the look.

"Don't," she breathed, "the first time you surprised me. But this time I won't allow you to."

Even when she said it, she realized her words contained no power.

A soft smile, one of amusement, pulled at the corners of his mouth.

"Obviously, I'm okay with a little theft."

Their lips touched. It happened so quick she wondered if it was real. He pulled back, again looking into her eyes, as if trying to gauge her reaction. She couldn't respond. Not yet. Her brain hadn't accepted it as reality, still hadn't processed the lips as soft as silk.

Prim had only been kissed twice in her life. Once by a boyfriend a few years past. It was sloppy and wet. He had opened his mouth too wide, and she had wanted it to end the moment it began. The other had been Rory. His kiss had been quite nice, but it was from Rory and lacking the passion necessary, and that ended the appeal real fast.

Both the boys she kissed previously had chapped lips. Everyone in district twelve did. Only victors could afford lips resembling silk. They showed his wealth, and left a pleasant tingle, despite how disgusting it should feel.

He must have thought her inability to move was acceptance, for he bent his head again almost touching their lips again. She twisted her head at the last second, and his lips landed on the corner of her mouth.

The hands squeezed her wrists, so hard they must be bruised.

"I see your training will be quite painful."

She shrunk away from his glare, trying to meld into the mattress.

"What?" He snapped. "Afraid you'll stain your pure little hands by touching mine? Get used to the blood, little bird. By the end of your life, you might even like the taste. Now look at the monster. I dare you. I assure you… it'll be a face you'll become familiar with."

This was an open challenge; one she couldn't deny. If she did, she might as well snap shackles on her wrists right now. Their eyes connected, and though she wanted to disappear from his gaze, she held strong.

"You aren't a monster. That's too kind." Prim sneered. "You're the Capitol's bitch."

He gripped her chin, tilting it upwards, forcing eye contact.

"I plan to treat you as you treat me. It seems you want me to be cruel. Be warned… cruelty is my specialty. It was the brand of drink I was fed since they placed a sword in my hand."

She knew of his cruelty. All her nightmares for five years consisted of him. They starred him bathing in her sister's blood with an awful smile, stretching wide, drenched in crimson.

"Remember this—you're a puppet. I'll pull the strings, and you'll dance."

She bit her tongue, denying the retort that her pride pleaded to let loose. She was no one's slave; she was no one's dog.

Her mind wanted to scream, tomorrow I won't be here. She fully intended to find an escape. The public would not condone kidnapping. That stretched the Capitol's bubble of docile, happy districts a little too far. President Snow would never allow it.

Or would he? Maybe he was the one to set this whole thing up. Somehow, she doubted it. If the orders came from Snow, he wouldn't have had to do something like that at night. He could have walked in her house in broad daylight and delivered the order.

Regardless, she intended to find a way out. She may not be Katniss, but she was her blood. The same spark thumped in her heart.

Instead of back talking, Prim nodded her head in faked acceptance. "Please, let go. You're hurting me. I'll do anything you want. Just let go."

A small tear trailed down her face. She didn't have to work too hard to force it. It came naturally, for most of what she said was the truth. Her wrists felt like they were being squeezed in a vice, and her wits frayed at their breaking point.

The hands let go, and she pulled her own into her chest, rubbing at the red skin, trying to bring blood flow to the joints again. Prickles stung beneath her skin.

Cato's hand transferred itself to her cheek. It ran down its length in an almost tender gesture, gripping her chin and twisting it so she'd look him in the eye.

"Good girl," he said.

He patted the cheek and stood.

Pulling a pillow off the bed, Cato placed it on the floor and lay down. Prim sighed in relief, thanking whatever God was in the sky that he didn't intend on sharing the bed with her.

"If you get any ideas of escape, I'll tie you to the bed posts for the rest of the trip." He lay prone on the ground, leaving the light glowing bright overhead. The outside world zoomed by at explosion speed in the window as the train zipped silently along the railways. After a while, his breathing relaxed but his body still held its stiff form.

She reshuffled on the mattress, trying to get comfortable—an impossible task given the situation, the hazy future, and all the pain and upheavals of the last 24 hours.

The movement caused one blue eye to crack open.

"Little bird?"

"Yes?"

"In the morning, we'll meet the world as a couple. We're in love."

"That's a lie."

"Lies resemble truth, sometimes, they become it. We're in love. Act it and live it. Breathe it and believe it. But most of all, for your own sake, for the sake of your mother, your lover boy slum rat, and everyone you ever loved, you better make all of Panem believe it."

The threat was understood.

How in the world would she ever get away from him with her heart still beating? How would she get back to Gale?

The Next Morning

Surprisingly, there weren't many people or cameras. Cato slipped his hand in hers, holding tight before they stepped off, waiting at the sliding door. The pads of his fingers and palm scratched her own, and they radiated heat. With it came a feeling of being connected, more constraining then if he went ahead and placed true shackles.

However, there were enough people to make her nervous. She saw a dozen men bundled up in thick coats made of fluffy fur from a nearby window, poised with cameras, their fingers already on the clicker.

Before the door slid open, Cato tugged her towards him and whispered into her ear.

"Remember the risks. Don't answer any questions. Let them guess."

A whoosh was heard, and bitter winds invaded the warmth of the cabin, seeping through her coat and dress and into her bones. The cold and the view took her breath away. Massive mountains jutted out on the landscape. Some reached above the clouds. Fresh snow floated to the ground, blanketing the earth with powder. Green spruce trees dotted the mountainsides, the only color in a sea of white, creating a view close to art. A scene so pure it hurt her eyes.

Cato's lips touched her cheek, and the world flashed bright. Click. Click. Click went the cameras. The light disoriented her. She raised a hand to cover her eyes.

"Put your arm down. If you let them get a few good shots worth their money, they'll leave. Whatever you do, don't deny them their shots. Oh, and smile like your happy. That's part of being in love, you know."

Prim listened to him and forced herself to lower her arm and smile wide enough to show all her teeth. Anybody that knew her would laugh at how fake it looked. Of course, she wasn't happy.

After a few clicks, they stopped.

"We'll answer all of your questions in an orderly manner if you form a line."

The reporters nodded their heads, obviously happy to get what they want without much push. They formed a line and one by one asked their questions.

How long will you be staying?

Not sure.

Why are you here?

To meet his family and visit where he grew up.

So, does this mean it's serious? Is it official?

No comment.

The questions went on in this manner, getting more noncommittal as they went.

After getting all the information they needed to print a story, the reporters packed up their cameras, rubbed their raw, red hands, flung their scarves, fluffed their fur jackets, and went home, leaving Cato and her walking to an old car.

Whatever negative feelings she had about him, she admired him for a brief moment. He handled the photographers with remarkable wit. It was a much calmer environment than the frenzied feeding of her reporter attack.

A driver was waiting in the car. As soon as they got in, Cato gave him a nod of recognition.

"Make sure she doesn't leave." He slammed the doors, physically locking the door. Then he promptly went to sleep. A sleep so deep it occurred to Prim that maybe he had acted asleep on the train.

Several Hours Later

Prim watched the countryside whoosh by. The beauty became antiseptic after a while, especially when the beauty held the sharp edge of cold, potent even in the cramped quarters of the car. She daydreamed until they pulled into a driveway. The winding road went from paved to rocks, jolting the car with every bump.

In the distance, a structure was built on top of a hill. As the drove closer, it became larger, dwarfing the landscape, only downsized by the massive mountains which jutted out on all sides. The house was entirely made out of logs, probably hewn from the woods next to it. A river ran its course next to it, winding down from the mountainside to run parallel to the road.

The road must have been a mile or more, and all she could think of was how terrifying the isolation was. Not only would it keep her close to her tormentor and away from anyone who could save her, it would also be next to impossible to escape alive—especially in winter.

The gravel crunched under the tires until they stopped in front of the house. It was the largest structure she had ever seen, bigger even than the mayor's house. It was beautiful though—with massive posts hand carved with images of nature, trees and flowers and animals. The air settled low, wispy with clouds, creating an ethereal feeling. Natural stone made up the parts which couldn't be made with wood, and the widows tinted the colors of jewels, sapphires and emeralds.

She almost said how beautiful it was aloud but stopped herself just in time. She couldn't forget that no matter how peaceful it looked on the outside, the inside would be her prison for an indeterminable amount of time.

"Welcome to my humble abode," he stated with a bit of sarcasm. Nothing about Cato was humble, least of all his house. However, it still didn't match him. It was too peaceful. A stream bubbled over a brook to her right. The smell of pine and evergreen lingered in the air. The leaves on the tress whispered to each other when their branches shook, and in the distance an eagle cawed.

"I thought it would be made of stone."

The log cabin surprised her since District 2 was famous for its natural stone quarries.

"Too cliché."

He stepped out of the car and went around to the other side, opening the door. He held out a hand for her to take.

"My lady."

Prim gripped his fingers and stepped down. Her eyes scanned the area, trying to memorize the landscape, trying to discover the route of future escape. It might be her only chance to see the outdoors.

"How come you don't live in victor's circle?"

"We ran out of homes."

"Oh." She couldn't help but think of the rows of empty, massive houses in her district, waiting for victors that would never come. Not for the last time did she think of what it would have been like if her sister had won. Would she be living in one of those houses?

It hurt to wonder.

Prim's shoes clicked against the concrete and wooden steps as she ascended the stairs to the front doors. She considered bolting, right then. She stopped. Cato stood behind her as if he anticipated her to run.

If she could somehow make it past Cato to the woods… but what then? After she made it to the woods, she'd have to contend with nature: the cold, the animals, the lack of food. Her obstinacy would just make her catch her death. No, she had to be smarter. Think. Wait. Listen for escape.

Prim made up her mind and reached for the handle of the door. Cato's face took on an odd expression. One she might nail down as hesitancy. Maybe he was rethinking his plans.

"There's something I need to tell you before you go in."

"Yes?"

Before he could elaborate, the door cracked open, and a head of red curls popped out. It reached the height of Prim's waist.

"Daddy?"

"Hey Coral."

That was all that was needed. A red flash zoomed by her and wrapped itself around Cato's legs. Cato gave the head a little pat, and then pried her off him.

Prim's mouth popped open.

Daddy?