Peeta's POV:
My tired eyes force themselves open, a fresh pool of blood immediately drowning out my vision as it continues to run down my forehead. It's coming from a gash I don't remember receiving.
I can't remember much right now, actually. Where am I? What's going on? I run through the list of immediate memories in my mind, nothing making even the slightest bit of sense.
My name is Peeta Mellark. I'm from District Twelve. I was a tribute in the seventy-fourth Hunger Games. That's all that's coming to mind right now.
My head feels like it's on the verge of exploding, a thin red screen now throwing off my vision.
My legs struggle to stay steady as I force myself to stand up, an overwhelming pain immediately washing over me.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
What's that noise? Where's it coming from?
The beeping soon grows from a small sound to an obnoxious pounding in my ear. This only makes my head feel heavier, my body slowly growing weaker.
I don't know how much longer I can go on like this. I don't even know what happened to me in the first place.
I find myself spinning in circles in the closed off room, my eyes rolling uncontrollably around my skull as I search for an exit.
The space around me seems untouched; a single wooden chair in the center of the room being the only object, a dusty lightbulb attached to a chain hanging over it.
The bulb only provides a dim beam of light compared to the window across from the chair.
My shaky feet stumble across the tile as I make my way over to the window, an immediate feeling of disappointment filling me.
The glass pane has been severely locked, thick metal bars and chains keeping it completely cut off from being helpful.
Panic suddenly hits me, the sound of footsteps bouncing around the walls in a rhythmic pattern.
"Any news on the girl, Butch?" A man says, his voice distant.
I throw myself to the ground out of instinct, my heart rate exploding in speed, a hot sweat breaking out on the back of my neck.
Where did that come from? I tilt my head slightly to the right, no doors or windows coming into view.
My head tilts to the left. Nothing.
Just as I begin to slowly stand up, a door I didn't even know was there swings open, a very overweight man revealing himself.
"Ah, mister Mellark. Glad to see you've waken up. Are you thirsty?" He asks, his mouth twisting into a yellow smile that spreads from ear to ear.
My head lobs to the side as I begin to speak, my dry lips smacking together uncontrollably as a broken sentence rolls off of my tongue.
"Leg hurts. Blood. Need doctor."
A raspy laugh slips out of his mouth, his head throwing itself back in amusement.
He clicks his tongue a few times, his leather boots scraping against the tiled floor as he steps forward only slightly, his arms locked tightly behind his back.
"The local doctor has been badly injured, I'm afraid. It's going to be a little... wait."
His dark brown eyes continue to stare coldly into mine, the glare feeling as though it's going to burn holes into my eyes any second now.
"Where am I?" I spit, my face twisting in anger.
His laugh fills the room once more, everything I say and do coming across as humorous to him.
He's now only inches away from me, his face growing closer to mine as he bends down lower.
"How's your... wife?" He asks slowly, his face brightening up in anxious pleasure.
My eyebrows instantly furrow in confusion. What is he talking about? I'm only sixteen. I've never had a girlfriend, let alone a wife.
A confused laugh slips between my cracked lips, my shaky fingers beginning to nervously trace the outline of a nearby floor tile.
"No wife." I manage to whisper hoarsely, a bloody cough following.
The man carelessly inches his boot away from the puddle of blood, a look of approval painting itself across his round and red face.
"No wife, huh? Seems awfully surprising for a handsome lad like yourself to be single. Don't you reckon it's time, with your age and all?"
Each word he says comes out slow and tense, almost as if it's been scripted, my response critical.
Once again, I'm left confused and curious. I don't look that old, do I?
"Only sixteen."
"Are you sure about that, Peeta?"
My head is pounding now, the blood flowing faster down the center of my face.
I feel like throwing up. This is too confusing to be reality. Nightmares have always been an issue for me, but they've never been this vivid. Never this realistic. Especially not the physical pain.
Before I can even respond, the man snaps handcuffs around my wrists, his face unmoving and lacking emotion.
"What are you-"
His hand clamps down on my swollen lips, the air slowly draining from my lungs. Black dots litter my vision as I flail wildly to escape his hold.
"Sweet dreams, Peeta." I hear him whisper, the blackness now overwhelming, his voice growing distant.
Then there's nothing.
(Finnius' POV.)
"Mommy! Mommy!"
My voice only comes out as a pathetic whisper, the struggle only making my head throb worse.
"Stay back, boy!" The doctor, her name being Meddy or something, hisses at me.
I can hardly see a thing, the thick black smoke now overwhelmingly strong. It only makes my breathing more difficult.
My flesh is raging with pain, the heat from the flames beginning to sink in and burn, regardless of how far away I am from the hospital.
Hot tears continue to stream down my burning cheeks, my throat feeling as if it's being slowly closed shut, no air able to enter my lungs.
"Mom, Rose!" I scream louder, this time sounding more desperate.
The image of the bomb replays over and over in my mind. The same bomb that blew up the hospital. The hospital containing Rose and my mother.
Meddy told me they're dead now and there's nothing we can do about it. I refuse to give up. I refuse to believe that they're gone.
Before I even have time to come up with a plan, I'm up on two wobbly feet and sprinting into the wall of smoke, nobody able to stop me.
"Come back! It's too dangerous!" I hear Meddy scream from behind me, her throat giving out mid-sentence.
I don't even care. I'm finding them. No matter what it takes.
(Peeta's POV.)
I can feel myself being dragged across the ground, a plastic material blocking me off from seeing my surroundings.
It takes me a moment to realize I'm being carried in a plastic bag, my back periodically hitting a sharp bump on the ground, the touch instantly shooting pain up my entire torso.
Who knows what they'll do if they realize I've woken up? I don't want to find out, my teeth digging deeper into my tongue with each bump in an attempt to keep quiet. It grows more difficult each time, the pain making me feel sick to my stomach.
I'm suddenly dropped to the ground carelessly, the sound of blaring sirens now pounding in my ears.
It's a fire alarm. Panicked screams and cries echo around me, my entire body beginning to shake violently in fear.
Please wake up. Wake up, Peeta. Wake up.
I can feel a forceful tug near my feet, the plastic bag soon slipping free of my body, my eyes instantly hit with a burning sensation at the sudden exposure to sunlight.
My hands instinctively draw up to my eyes and rub away the pain, my hands brushing up against the blood covering my forehead, the skin instantly turning a dark red.
"Peeta!" I hear an unfamiliar voice scream nearby, their tone coming across very desperate.
"He-help." I barely get out, my eyes rolling uncontrollably around my head, my neck feeling weaker as it continues to leave my head lobbing to the side.
"Please." I whisper faintly. It's hopeless.
As my eyes begin to adjust themselves, the woman who screamed my name comes into view, her meaty arms flailing about as she anxiously scans the area around her.
Definitely not familiar.
Before I can get up, a rough hand clamps down on the back of my neck, their thick fingers digging deep into the fragile skin as they carelessly drag me to my feet.
The pain is now unbearable.
"This look familiar?" The overweight man asks, his dark eyes glaring deviously into mine, a crooked grin painted across his face.
My head tilts slightly to the right. I watch as the red and orange flames whip violently back and forth, slowly consuming the entire building.
The place has absolutely no memories attatched to it. Why did the man bring me here?
I turn back to face him, my heavy head slowly tilting from side to side.
"Not at all."
"Excellent." He whispers to himself, his grip on my neck instantly loosening.
He swallows loudly, his curious eyes quickly studying me once more.
"My job is done then." He hisses, flashing me a broken smile.
I'm dropped to the ground with a thump, the impact sending a blazing pain up my entire body. The wind is instantly knocked out of me.
I roll around violently in a desperate attempt to regain my breath, my lungs feeling as if they've been set on fire.
The man laughs, bending down to my level, his hand slowly drawing an object from his pocket.
"I'm sorry this has to happen. I truly am. We probably would have become great buddies, you and I. But boss' orders come first, mister Mellark. I'm sure you understand."
My eyes open wide with fear as I realize what he took out of his pocket. The man presses the blade carefully on a thin layer of skin on my neck, his mouth twisting into a sarcastic frown.
"Things don't always end the way you want, I'm afraid."
(Finnius' POV.)
"Mom! Rose! Are you okay?" I scream as loud as I can, the tears streaming faster down my face, my body beginning to shake uncontrollably as my emotions continue to run wild.
My feet stomp loudly on the gravel as I run desperately through the shield of blackness, my breathing quickly transforming into short gasps for air.
"Mom!" I croak, my body quickly growing overheated.
I can feel the stitches on my head slowly opening, a thin line of blood now running down the back of my neck.
This makes finding them soon even more critical.
I push through the darkness, my lungs filling up with smoke quicker than expected.
Hoarse coughs force themselves out of my throat, a burning sensation now tearing through my chest.
I stop short in front of the first window I spot, my mind quickly exploding with ideas.
I do the first thing I think of, my hands immediately groping the gravel around me in search for a hard object.
My fingers quickly make contact with a solid rock. I grab it without question, smashing it blindly against the glass, the sound of it shattering immediately following.
I cautiously drag myself through the hole, the remaining glass fragments tearing through my clothes and skin as I force myself through.
Ignoring the pain, I wobble weakly through the room, the blazing flames now circling me. I'm stuck in a ring of fire, the smoke filling my lungs more quickly as time drags on.
I know I'll pass out any second now, but I can't stop. I have to find them.
I circle anxiously around the small space, a million blurred images taking over my train of thought.
I need to get over the fiery ring. But how?
Then I spot it. Without even second guessing it, I pull myself up onto the counter to the left of me, dragging my weak body up onto the top of it.
Now less exposed to the flames and smoke, I crawl with determination across the surface, stopping short once I reach the edge.
I have to jump to the next counter. I don't have time to over-think it. Before I know it, I'm blindly throwing myself over to the other counter, a nearby flame whipping against the edge of my arm.
I'm instantly sent into a screaming fit, the skin quickly raging a bright red.
I can't worry about the pain right now. My shaky legs hit the pavement with urgency, forcing their way out of the room and into the next, this one burning faster than the last.
My wild eyes move quickly across the room, watching as the hungry flame gulps down everything in it's path, leaving behind a blackened and destroyed mess of ruins.
I imagine how Rose and my mother would look if they truly did die of being burned. The thought instantly sends me doubling over and throwing up more blood.
More than anything, I want to live a long life. I don't want to die. I don't want my family to die.
I have to fight for all of us.
My eyes quickly lock onto a small hole in the wall. I throw myself over to it, my body instantly wiggling its way inside.
Hot air hits me from all angles, bright red burns immediately painting themselves across my entire body.
I clench my teeth to avoid screaming out in pain, dragging myself as fast as I can through the small space, stopping short once I reach the end.
Still grasping the rock from earlier, I smash it into the weak material the wall is made of, the impact instantly sending pieces of it in all directions.
The hole it created is too small. It takes a few more hits to create one large enough, so I don't waste any time escaping from it once it becomes possible.
The red and orange flame inches closer to me from behind, the thick black smoke blocking my vision once more. It's impossible to see any type of exit now.
This is hopeless. We're all going to die. It will be my fault at that.
I sink to my knees in disappointment, my body shaking uncontrollably as I sob to myself.
"I'm sorry, guys." I whisper hoarsely, my mouth quickly filling up with smoke.
That's when I hear it; a faint voice. It's distant, but close enough for me to hear.
I could recognize that voice from anywhere. I'm up on my feet and scrambling around the room before I have time to continue searching, my heart pounding faster and faster in my chest.
"Dad! I'm in here!" I scream desperately, a deep cough following.
My wobbly legs move slowly across the floor. The flame is nearly touching me now, the smoke overwhelming.
"DAD! PLEASE, HELP!" I plead, my voice giving out as the polluted air quickly takes my voice away.
My fingers grope around the walls desperately in search for an exit, but it's no use. Hot sparks sink into my flesh from all directions, a blazing pain beginning to rage inside me.
My hand finally grasps onto something circular and familiar. It's a door knob.
More sparks hit me, the flame centimeters away now. I use every ounce of strength left inside of me to tear the door free from the hinges, the sunlight from outdoors quickly burning at my eyes.
I throw myself outside and onto the grass, forcing myself to catch my breath and calm down.
In, out. In, out. Fresh air slowly enters my lungs, my torso raging with pain.
The blood on my neck has turned the back of my shirt a dark red, everything inside of me at it's weakest.
All I want to do is curl up in bed and sleep. Maybe even forever, if I could. Anything but this.
My eyes slowly drift shut, quickly snapping open again as I hear my father's voice once more.
My head spins anxiously in all directions. There he is.
I immediately begin jogging toward him, a hot sweat breaking out on my face.
I'm going to pass out. I have to keep going.
"Da-" I stop short, a gasp escaping my lips.
My father isn't alone. A large man is with him; my father sprawled out on the grass, the man holding him down as he holds a knife to his neck.
I feel like screaming at the top of my lungs. I dive to the ground, now only feet away from them, my body hidden and protected as I duck behind a bush.
My eyes scan desperately for some sort of weapon, nothing coming into view. Then I spot it.
Rose's old bow, snapped in half, rests only a couple feet away from me.
I can use the arrow to save my father. My heart feels as though it's about to explode out of my chest, black dots beginning to litter my vision.
I snap awake, quietly dragging myself across the grass, my hands carefully grabbing hold of the arrow.
"I don't have a wife! I have no idea what you're talking about!" My father screams, his face completely flushed of color as the man continues to press the knife deeper into his neck.
"Well, that's because you no longer have memory, silly. It was the boss' idea. But I feel like killing you would be so much more... exciting." The large man whispers, a hearty chuckle following.
I cut his laughing short, my hand forcing the arrow through his chest with sloppy aim.
The man instantly collapses against my father's chest, a pool of blood turning his white shirt a bright red.
I immediately double over, my stomach emptying itself. I just murdered someone.
Those words replay in my mind over and over again.
(Peeta's POV.)
Hot blood runs down my chest, but it's not mine. I shove the man's large body off of me, quickly dragging myself to my feet.
My hands immediately claw at the area where his knife was, a thin cut producing a small amount of blood. Nothing compared to the rest of my body.
I turn to face the small boy, his sweat drenched hair preventing me from seeing his face.
Gasping for air, I lean down to his level, my eyes searching for his.
"You saved me." I whisper hoarsely, hot tears beginning to well up in my eyes.
The boy turns his head shyly, his lip trembling as he speaks in a soft whisper.
"I couldn't let you die, daddy. I couldn't."
This catches me off guard completely. My eyebrows furrow, a frown twitching at the corner of my lips.
"I'm not your father." I whisper gently, my fingers carefully wiping away his tears.
His body scoots back defensively, his face twisting into a look of horror and pain.
"W-what are you talking about, daddy? Yes you are." He whispers, a sob escaping his throat mid-sentence.
My head feels like it's going to explode any second now. I'm being overwhelmed with too many confusing things. This nightmare just feels way too real.
"I'm sorry, but I'm not. How about we go-" I stop short as I spot something from the corner of my eye. Not just a something, but a someone. Katniss Everdeen.
I frown slightly. Ever since the Games, she's acted like we never kissed. Like we never showed an affection. It only makes my heart hurt worse.
The only problem is, she looks much older; her face slightly worn out, gray hairs freshly sprouting out of her head, all of it twisted back into her usual braid.
She's not alone. I watch intently as she sprints over to us, her body painted in blood and ash, a small girl passed out in her arms.
"PEETA!" She screams anxiously, her body giving out as she grows closer.
I feel a small body suddenly collapse across my legs. The boy has passed out on me, his blood immediately soaking my jeans.
My head snaps up again, Katniss now even closer.
She crawls across the ground in a desperate attempt to reach me, the small girl hanging loosely in Katniss' right arm.
"Peeta, there's a second bomb! We have to move now!" She screams, her voice breaking toward the end.
I scramble to her side, grasping hold of the small girl.
"GO!" Katniss screams, her cheeks quickly growing wet with tears.
Confused and overwhelmed, I grab the small boy with my free hand, tossing both of them over my shoulders as I begin sprinting farther away from the building.
I carefully set the bodies down, my wobbly legs instantly twisting around to face Katniss again.
"I'm coming!" I yell out to her, my body growing weaker by the second.
Now only feet away from her, my legs finally give out, my knees skidding across the gravel and into Katniss' side.
She yelps with pain, her arms quickly grasping hold of me.
"We have to move, now!" She hisses, extreme pain registering in her eyes.
Out of nowhere, the sound of a robotic voice speaking begins to pound in my ears, everything blurring around me as I grab hold of Katniss.
"Five seconds remaining. Four. Three. Two. One."
I leap across the gravel and into the grass, my arms holding onto Katniss for dear life.
Then the bomb blows, a red and orange light closing in on us.