Song Suggestion: The Weeknd- "High for This"... sums up this chapter perfectly, I think. There's a Ellie Goulding cover, and I like it, but The Weeknd's version fits the feel of the chapter more.
Last Warning: This chapter contains controversial subjects matter, as will many other chapters. I do not make excuses for my writing, and I do not allow political correctness to control what I write. The people in my story are VICTORS, so they will not act like saints. They slaughtered children without empathy. From this point on, the scenes will start to get steamy. Turn back now if you are squeamish.
Thank You: K.C, Rachel, artdecades, 3vlee, 13Kali (For 2 reviews!), Guest, Talon-Murtagh-Yassen-Sirius, Lindsey, Bea0407, HeyBirdy, SweetStarre123, and another Guest!
Wicked Diversions
She didn't know anything beyond the pounding. A hammer thumped behind her eyelids at the center of her skull. She groaned, one hand coming up to her face to remind herself to feel. Her fingers dimpled into her skin, trying to hold on to something, since she did not feel in control of her actions.
The jiggle of a doorknob brought her out of her purgatory. Her eyes cracked open to see brilliant white light. She tried to shield her eyes, protect herself from worsening her headache. The door clicked back shut, the light sucked back outside.
Her pupils dilated with the light fluctuations, and the large mass standing in the doorway took shape. Even in the dimness, Prim made out the outline of spiked black hair, a broad chest, and a district 1 training shirt. He smiled; his white, capitol teeth brilliant as the sun in the dark, and her memories returned.
She was drugged and kidnapped by Jace.
Not again! She groaned a little, turning her face into the pillow, unable to gather up the energy for any other movement.
Did all stupid brutes believe they could just throw chloroform in her face and hike her over a shoulder?
"Morning, Rosie dear. I've brought sustenance and liquids." He held up a plastic bottle in one hand and a sack of food in the other.
"Where am I?" She croaked out. Her voice sounded cracked and broken.
A lumpy mattress pushed on her back, and the mauve flowered bedspread looked as if it belonged to the Ancients. She brought the edges of the sheets above her chest. The closer it inched towards her nose, the more it smelled like cat piss. Beside the queen sized bed, a long skinny, wooden-based lamp without a shade sat on a rickety table, which looked as if it might collapse on contact. Nothing else was in the room. In the corner, there was an open door leading to a tiny bathroom with a sink cracked in two with rust dribbling down the side and a toilet with no lid or seat.
Her nose wrinkled at the stink permeating the room around her. It stank of old urine, feces, and stale air.
Jace ignored her question. He set the bags of food on the bed and took out a banana. He peeled the edges and ate the insides, making a moan of appreciation.
"You should try these." He mumbled through a mouth full of food. "They were grown in one of the Captiol's greenhouses." He eyed her rigid stance, clutching the blankets to her chest. "If you want one, you better snatch it up, or I'll eat it for you."
He went ahead and brought out an extra banana and a muffin and set the plastic bottle beside it, which she could now she was water. The liquid called out to her, but though her throat felt on fire, she didn't reach for any of his offerings.
"Am I in district 1?"
He sat closer and she scrambled backwards, pulling herself against the wall and tucking her knees close to her chest.
He held up his hands, showing he meant no harm. Instead of coming closer, he slid the banana towards the bulge of her foot under the sheet.
"You need to eat to keep up your strength. There's nothing more I hate than a person choosing weakness." He stuck his hands inside the sack and pulled out a simple cotton green dress. A spattering of roses rimmed the neckline. It reminded Prim of her old blue one, except newer. "I bought you a dress too."
"Why?"
"Because the roses reminded me of you, and we'll need a good disguise to get you out of district 2."
Prims features wrinkled in confusion. "But you told me... I thought you were taking me to—"
"Of course I said that. The Club is riddled with cameras. He'll hear what I said and come running to my district like some fucking white knight."
It was a diversion.
"Then where are we?" She glanced around her body. It was such a stark contrast to the elegance she had gotten used to. Though, even in District 12, they didn't live so... dirty.
"In some abandoned District 2 hotel. It hasn't been in use since back before the games when districts used to visit each other. We'll hide out here for now. He'll be heading on to District 1, but we won't be there. By the time he realizes it, it'll be too late."
Too late for what?
"Cato's smarter than you think."
When did she start standing up for Cato?
Jace face pulled up in a snarl. Malice looked funny on his features.
"Eat the food I so nicely gave you, and I'll keep you awake."
If she was knocked out again, she doubted that there would be any chance of escape. When Cato stole her, he brought her to an island in the middle of a sea of trees and mountains, an inhospitable environment for escape. By contrast, Jace kept her on the edges of a city, rife with places to hide and survive. At the first chance, she'd run.
She picked up the muffin and slowly peeled away the wrapping. She took tiny bites and then couldn't help herself. Too many years of starving trained her to devour the food placed in front of her. She didn't look up again until she licked her fingers clean.
"That's a good girl." Jace smiled at her. She wished she could believe the benevolence it portrayed. Instead the hairs on her body raised in warning. Something about him was just so off. "I see this will be easier than I thought."
He seemed to be moving closer before—
Something dark scrambled across Jace's training shoes. He jumped to his feet, fumbling away, losing his footing, hopping to the other side of the room, hands against the wall. His chest kept heaving up and down and odd noises of terror escaped his mouth.
Prim glanced down at what caused such a reaction to find a... roach?
Jace's terror only lasted for a second before it morphed into fury. He unclipped a machete from his belt loop and ran at her bed. Prim flattened herself, trying to melt to nothing out of instinct. But he wasn't aiming for her. Jace started to hack at the ground like a crazy person. He kept pounding and pounding, the edge of his sword getting stuck into the mothy blue carpet. He chopped the bug into half and then into a million bits. Goo erupted from the body.
"I think it's dead, Jace."
Prim couldn't help herself. She giggled, half-prompted by fear, half-promoted by the lunacy. It was just a little bug, not even one that could bite. Jace, a man built like mountain, was scared of a little roach. Her giggles increased until she tipped her head back and laughed in the brute's face.
Jace looked up. His eyes flickered still with fear. The veins bulged in his neck. It was if he couldn't shake free of his anger, of the instinct to kill. In his fear, he transformed into the victor, Jace the Mace. She instantly understood her mistake when he threw down his machete and stalked forward.
"Shut up. It's not funny." He gripped her hair in his hands. It didn't hurt, but the pressure caused her to look up. "I fucking hate bugs!"
She couldn't help herself. She tried to stop for her own safety, but the laughter kept coming.
"I said shut the fuck up!"
His hand came up, and she flinched out of instinct.
"Don't hit me."
The laughter was now gone, replaced by terror. The situation was too familiar for comfort. Here she was again, powerless in a man's grasp. Weak and powerless. She turned into a little girl again with her face filled with splinters shoved against a wooden shed.
He stopped, and instead of hitting her, he chucked her lightly under the chin, a move that was a mockery of affection.
"I don't hit girls."
"I find that hard to believe."
There were only a few things she knew about Jace: he was a victor, and he kidnapped her. Neither of those things garnered her trust in him. Both showed his tendency towards violence.
He let go of her and went back to his bags, rummaging around in them as if to find something.
"It's the only lesson from my mother I ever learned. I may be a victor, and I'm a scoundrel, but I do have some morals. " He smirked after this, as if enjoying a private joke. His rummaging ended when he pulled out a little plastic bottle with tiny circular pills. He uncapped it and placed two pills in his hands and opened the cap of the water bottle with his other hand. "That reminds me. Here," he said, "I brought you something for a headache. I'm sure you have a nasty one."
Prim weighed her options while looking at the small white pill. She didn't trust him, but what other choice did she have? Maybe if she showed trust in him, he'd start trusting her. Going along with his plans might be the correct course of action for the moment. To add on to it, her head really did hurt. Tendrils of pain slithered down her skull.
Making up her mind she took both the pills and the water bottle. Before she could swallow them, they dissolved in her mouth, running down her throat in a liquid form, tasting of chalk. Prim grimaced and took a swig of the water to get the taste out of her mouth. As a healer she had encountered capitol medicine before, she even studied them in her classroom books in her free time, but she didn't know of a pill that would turn to liquid.
"That wasn't pain medication," Prim said, realizing it as it was spoken aloud. Even to her own ears, she sounded flat and dull. Almost numb.
"No... it wasn't." Jace sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on the bulge of cloth that was her foot. He squeezed it.
The effects happened sooner than she expected. It started as a fire in her belly, a tingle as if her foot fell asleep. It almost hurt. Heat seared her skin as it spread in her veins, branching outwards from her core. It soon became unbearable as if every cell was on fire. She had to do something, had to touch something. She dug her hands into the mothy sheets so that she wouldn't rub them down her legs.
"I'm burning," Prim gasped.
"I can help with that." Jace leaned over and ran a finger down her face. It was like a jolt. The heat transformed into something addicting on contact. She whimpered when she wanted to moan. She shivered for control of herself. It was overwhelming. Her body craved to lean into the touch, to take it, to have his hands run all over her body.
Stop! Her mind screamed. She disconnected from the touch. The fire returned, but she almost welcomed it to the poison he offered.
"What did you do to me?"
"I'm doing you a favor. It's a smart little Captiol invention for victors who aren't quite so compliant with their orders. I hope Cato appreciates the touch."
"A favor?"
"I could have made it hurt." He got up and took off his shirt. His muscles bulged, massive like a gorilla's. "Instead you'll moan my name like a song, like I promised, no matter how rough I get." He got closer and started takes off his shoes, one at a time, and then his socks, taking his time. "And I will get rough."
The burning clouded her vision. She swore she saw in colors instead of shapes. It was beginning to be hard to concentrate on what she needed to do, on resistance. Taking all her willpower, she focused on Jace, only to find him completely naked. She understood then, without a doubt, what he planned to do. Prim wanted to cry. She never thought she'd lose her innocence in this fashion—to a brutal man in a dirty old hotel on a bedspread that smelled of cat piss.
"Please don't do this," she whispered. Even with Cato's hands around her neck, she had never been more afraid than in this moment.
Jace smiled, giving an impression of empathy. Prim allowed herself to hope for a small second until he laughed.
"I told you that you'd beg."
He bit the edge of her neck hard enough it broke skin. She screamed then moaned. Her body worked against her mind. She wasn't in control of her actions. The pain was confusing.
"You said you wouldn't hurt me," she said through clenched teeth.
He smiled again. This time she was able to see behind his charm, through it. He was no longer hiding any part of his personality.
"I said I wouldn't hit you. I never promised I wouldn't hurt you." The mattress below them squeaked, and she heard the popping of springs as he crawled over her, trapping her beneath. It sunk with the weight. "In fact, your night will be quite painful."
In a sudden motion, his hands found her hips and he ripped the edge of her dress. It split in two right up the middle. It hung off her arms, leaving only her underwear to protect her from view. The haze made it hard to fight. She thrashed beneath him. Every time a section of her skin touched one of his, it felt like a lightning strike, a flood of desire zipping straight through her blood.
What kind of sick person created such an awful drug?
Jace mercifully sat back to view her body for a moment.
"Cato should have sealed the deal," he said, "You're too beautiful to leave unfucked . He shouldn't have made it a competition; he should have realized I'd always win." He must have caught her expression of horror. "Don't look so worried. If you play along, you'll stay alive. If you please me, I'll keep you. It's an honor, really. Most of my victims I dispose of by the end of the night. But it'd be fun to mess with Cato, wouldn't it? Bring you to functions hanging off my arm like a besotted whore. The whole of Panem will think he's a fool."
"No one will believe I'd leave the lion for a loser."
His jaw clenched. He still sat up, leaving their skin untouched, and she was grateful. It was easier to fight the burn than the desire.
"Yes, they will. In case you've forgotten, I'm very much a winner. So if you enjoy bringing breath into those little lungs through those fuckable lips, you'll tell them all how he was inadequate and you needed someone so much more. Someone stronger, smatter, better-"
"Cato is going to find us and rip your head off."
"Believe me Rosie, I'm hoping he does. Find us, that it. It'll be an excuse to kill him without repercussions, though he won't find us for a while yet. You see, that's the point of this—to piss him off. Fucking you will just be an added bonus... and don't think after all this work it'll only happen once. After all, since he didn't claim him, you're my property now."
She used the fire that enveloped her, the almost pain, to fuel her anger.
"Property? I'm no one's fucking property. "
He tilted his head, then tipped it back and gave a deep belly laugh in amusement. It shook the mattress like a miniature earthquake.
"Come on, Rosie, stupidity looks ugly on you. What do you think you were to Cato? You were his, and now you're mine. After tonight, I could fuck you in front of your mother and no one could stop me, least of all you."
He leaned down and connected their lips. The desire overwhelmed her, but she could still sort out in her brain that without the fake hormones coursing through her body, she'd find him disgusting despite his handsome looks. His breath stank of the food he ate, and he pressed down too hard. His saliva reminded her of slime.
Prim broke out of her haze just enough to reach her hand up and dig her fingers into his cheek. She ripped them down, leaving a trail of welted and bleeding skin. Jace sat back again. His hips now straddled her waist, and she felt pinned in her position. He ran a hand down his cheek with a thoughtful expression, as if more surprised than hurt, though he still looked smug.
"A show of some spunk, huh? That's good. As much as I like breaking beautiful things, I like breaking beautiful things that fight back that much more."
Prim spat on him. It was a desperate move, and she almost regretted it. Jace wiped it off, but his smile only widened.
"You know, I think this will be just as enjoyable as fucking that bitch, Tatiana. She was a fighter, a real joy to subdue. She set the bar pretty high, but your cunt just might be a sweeter victory."
Tatiana. The name clicked things in place for her, and suddenly Prim remembered all the horrible whispers from his games.
Poor, Tatiana.
Did you hear her screams?
The girl never stood a chance.
Such an awful way to go!
I'd rather have a sword through the gut.
Well, I'm just glad it didn't last too long.
He raped her, a sixteen-year-old tribute from district 4, in the last moments of the game. The cameras couldn't pan away when it happened. They were the only tributes left. Normally, the capitol would shield the public from things like that, or they would kill the tribute before it could happen, like the ones who go insane and cannibalistic. But he was fast and violent, and then he snapped her neck, leaving him a victor with a more brutal legacy than normal.
Prim bucked against him, renewing her struggle, fighting against the fake desire that tried to suck her under. But Jace smirked and leaned down connecting their chests and placing his face against her neck. She moaned with the contact and, against her will, her hands came up and over his back. She squeezed his shoulders. The feeling made her shaky, insane. She had to touch him, to bring him into her body. It was the only way.
Tatiana. Her brain whispered. A small shot of icy water struck her for a moment. It only lasted a second before she went back under. But with determination she thought the name again. She never saw the games, but she imagined it the best she could. The fight, the blood, the screams. Every image gave her a small reprieve from the desire.
He thought she was giving in as his lips trailed down her throat, and maybe she was. He gave a throaty moan when she bit the skin on his neck, and he returned the favor.
Tatiana. She thought again, imagining him ripping her open. She opened her eyes and looked around the room.
Jace bucked his lower half against her, his erection pushed against the fabric of her underwear. The back of the bed smacked against the wall, and the side table with the lamp jiggled with every movement, until the force was too much and the lamp fell over. The top part rested right next to her hand.
A plan formed in Prim's hazy mind.
"Jace," she moaned into his ear. She felt his hands squeeze her hips hard in response. "I—I want you inside me."
Jace sat up and looked at her with a self-satisfied smile, but he still looked wary of her.
To distract him, she reached up and cupped his cheek with her left hand. It was half planned, half compulsion. Jace sucked in a breath at her gentle touch and leaned against it, closing his eyes.
He opened them, with something glittering behind them.
"One day you'll touch me like this on your own." He reached and clipped his fingers under her bra as if to rip it off.
It was enough to clear her mind, and her right hand wrapped around the wooden base of the lamp.
"Jace..." she said, not full of desire, but gentler, as if in love. He glanced back up into her eyes in surprise.
"Rose," his voice sounded shaky, "I think we'll be good toget—"
"Fuck you."
She cut him off with a lamp base to the face.