Okay, so I lied. This isn't the final chapter. It's part one. And I know I'm really, really late. But the finale just became massive (I've already written 22k+ words and I've only just hit the ¾'s mark.) Everything I've set up is coming back into play finally in this final chapter and it's just been taking everything out of me to get it all together. Plus I'm absolutely terrified to give you guys the ending. I know no matter what happens someone people aren't going to like how it ends. But I know I can't let that hold me back. I've had a plan and I have to end it how I see fit for the story and these characters with out worrying about everyone else or it will never get done. But I don't want to keep you guys in the dark forever, so I decided to split the final chapter in to two parts. I really truly hope to have the second part up in the next week. In the meantime I suggest everyone give themselves a refresher course on everything that's happened because Part 2 is going to be massive and touch on a lot of things. Until then happy reading!

Ch. 25- The Real Enemy Part 1

Days or hours passed inside the windowless cell, Peeta wasn't sure. It didn't matter. He would wait as long as was required of him. He sat in the center of the barren concrete cell, back straight, legs crossed, eyes dead ahead. The air was stale and dank. A piece of uneaten bread grew moldy in the corner. An unused bucket resided in the other, the fetid smell that permeated from it a clear indicator of its purpose and a stark reminder of the circumstances. The only sound was the faint pulse of his heart like the distant beat of a drum, strong and steady, beating on and on, echoing through the hallow space in his chest, never failing. The darkness closed in, surrounded, oppressed.

He was on the verge of being consumed.

He was lost.


"Alma Coin has been assassinated."

The knife sliced through the blood orange, cleaving it in half and leaking its sticky red juice across the surface of the porcelain plate. Snow set down the utensil and looked up at the Peacekeeper who had delivered the news. The man held contact with Snow's eyes for a moment before realizing his mistake and quickly bowed his head. He took a nervous shuffle back.

Everyone at the long stretch of table stopped what they were doing and looked to their leader with bated breath. Many were exhausted, eyes blood-shot and pushed to the breaking point. The rebellion had turned as ruthless and destructive as the previous one though none of them had lived through it. Fear, an emotion they weren't accustomed too—besides when it came to President Snow—became a dominant factor in their daily lives. But now they held greedy hope in their eyes like starving dogs with a juicy steak dangled before them. They spotted an end to the dark days, a path to victory.

With a suppressed grin President Snow waved off the Peacekeeper. He was feeling particularly merciful all of a sudden. He pushed back from the table and stood. The scrape of wood against the tile multiplied across the dinning hall as everyone else rose to stand with him, lunch forgotten.

"It is time to end this war."

Everyone agreed vigorously. Dreg daringly met Snow's gaze and stepped forward from the line of political figureheads.

"Now's the time to exploit the Mockingjay."

"But how can we trust him? Are we just supposed to take his word?" Another man asked. Others murmured in agreement.

An evil glint sparked in Snow's cold blue eyes. Things were finally falling into place. The time was now. The time was theirs. They would wipe out the pathetic rebels once and for all. He would crush their spirits so resolutely that for generations to come, their children's grandchildren would feel the empty ache of loss and the sharp sting of fear so debilitating they would never think again of biting the hand that fed them, instead slaving away to prove their worth to their masters.

"We will use Mr. Mellark. But first one final test of allegiance. To prove his old self is truly gone. Then we will reveal him to the country and watch as their precious rebellion crumbles. The boy on fire will be the final spark that burns them to the ground, then we'll scorch the earth and make sure the seeds of discontent are never able to sprout again."


Chaos. Screams. Running. Blood. Another fired gun; the assassin, shot in the leg as he attempted to flee was beat with legs and hands and the butt of a gun while he was down before superiors could get hold of the scene and put him under arrest. Medics rushed in. Feeble attempts at resuscitation were made when everyone knew it was too late, it was no use. Primrose stood frozen among it all like a statue, the crowds parting around her, rushing to help, to try to do something. Anything.

Johanna noticed Prim. She was the only one that did. She swooped in, draped an arm over Prim's shoulder and escorted her to the elevator, up and away. As the doors shut on the scene of chaos before her she noticed two things. One was Cato. He was stoic, wholly unaffected. He just stood to the side, a misting of red across the right side of his body, and stared. She remembered how dangerous his brown eyes had looked before, when she was pestering him for information before the gun went off and tore through President Coin's skull, taking with it the last semblance of peace and order. Now there was nothing. Everything was gone and they were just watching, waiting, for what Prim didn't know and maybe she didn't want to know.

Second was Mr. Heavensbee. He also had a fine coating of blood that stained his canary yellow jacket. He talked rapid fire with someone else, Boggs she thought his name was. Heavensbee was spouting orders and taking control and he seemed to relish it.

The doors closed on the scene before Prim and a shudder ripped through her body. Johanna's fingers tightened briefly against the round of Prim's shoulder then she crouched down on her right knee.

"How's it going pigtails?"

Prim had forgotten her mother did her hair this morning. She let her do it in the signature braided pigtails even though she hated them. She felt they were too childish, but she couldn't bring herself to tell her mother that. She knew how her mom desperately tried to cling to some sense of normalcy and if that meant letting her have her little baby girl for a little while longer who was she to deny it?

"I've seen worse things."

It was true and it made her feel a little better to say it out loud. It was a sad fact, but true. She had suffered through far worse and more was probably on the horizon—even though she had never seen someone shot before. When they toted Riece up to the stage after he started the whistle her mother had acted quick, like she knew exactly what was coming, and covered Prim's eyes as Gale fought a way through the crowd for them and his family to escape before the rioting started. That had been her first real taste of terror, but it was by no means her last.

"That's right. And you'll see worse before this is all over." Johanna seemed uncharacteristically grim. She was usually full of inappropriate energy and snappy rejoinders. "People like to keep things from kids—"

"I'm not a kid."

"I know that," Johanna volleyed back, a spark of that familiar fire returning for being interrupted. "But they see how young you look and want to protect you. It's instinctive, but it isn't always good. You need to be prepared, they can't shelter you from the bad, and you know more than your fair share of evil. It'll only cripple you when the time comes to fight and it is coming. So I'm going to tell you what the others won't and it's up to you to decide for yourself what you want to do with the information…"

By the time the elevator door opened on the third floor, where both Prim and Johanna were housed, Prim bolted. Peeta, Haymitch… She ran as fast as her legs could carry her until she reached the communal showers where she stripped, threw her blood stained clothes in the trash bin and turned on the shower, as hot as it would go. Once steam clouded the air and it was deemed sufficiently hot enough, Prim stepped under the scalding spray and let her skin burn.

Later that night, when Prim was lying in bed, her skin still tender to the touch, she dreamt of Peeta. He was by her bed singing a lullaby, like he did that night on the train, when he promised to protect her.

"Forget your woes and let your troubles lay

and when again it's morning, they'll wash away…"

Haymitch watched over the two from the doorway as Peeta sang the soothing tune next to her in bed. She remained still and watched the stars dance in the free and open sky above them where the ceiling should have been. If she lifter her hand she could almost touch them.

"And here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true,

Here is the place where I love you."

When she woke that morning Primrose knew with certainty in her heart like she knew that the sun would rise and set each day that he would never turn his back on her, on them. It wasn't in Peeta's heart to betray those who needed them—especially not now. And she knew she had to convince Cato of this too, for she saw it in his eyes, how lost he was. He was at the precipice and there was very little time left to pull him back before he fell.

Dressing fast, Prim rushed from the room determined to find the proof she needed that would make Cato see, make him believe again. But once she was out of her room—past the flurry of activity as people raced about in frantic preparation for something—and in the elevator she floundered. It had seemed so easy when she woke this morning, when it was an idea fresh in her mind. But now she had to execute it and she didn't know where to start. Where would she find proof? Peeta's room? Another family had already taken it—same with Haymitch's. Then she thought the scene of the crime might be a good place to start.

On the ride deeper into District Thirteen people got on and off the elevator and Prim was privy to their whispered conversations and the gossip that ran rampant. There were rumors of assassins and Capitol spies everywhere, distrust and finger pointing now commonplace. It seeped its way into everyone's mindset and Prim could see the rebellion's future as clear as day. Soon it would be ripped apart from the inside as fellow rebel turned on rebel. But worst of all were the whispers about Peeta. No one knew the truth, not yet. But idle speculation on his disappearance paired with the recent assassination made everyone wary of the top leaders. Some believed him dead too. Others gossiped about his health, having heard from someone who knew someone else that Peeta's mind was unstable, that he was crazed. Prim wanted to scream at them. They didn't know Peeta, not like her. They had no right to say such things about him.

Once on the Thirteenth floor Prim realized why everyone was on such high alert. Not only because of their leader's assassination, but because they were prepping for assault on the Capitol. The control bay was mostly empty save for the skeleton crew that was to man the District and aide from the computers the launching of the war machines and securing of the Capitol.

Prim crept along the walls towards the conference room she knew to be the one that was used by Peeta. She tried pulling the handle of the steel door, but it wouldn't budge. It was locked. She hissed in frustration. She didn't know what she was doing or what the heck she was even looking for, she was just desperate for some type of proof. She heard noise behind her, people talking as they left the control bay. She ran further down the hall away from the voices. She didn't know why she ran, she just knew she didn't want to be caught and forced back up to her floor.

Suddenly a door to her right opened and she almost ran into it. Two people walked out and away from her, not even noticing her standing behind the door when it swung closed. One was Heavensbee, the other an assistant of his. They were talking in hushed voices and their feet moved fast down the hall and around the corner, in a direction Prim didn't know where it led. But she had a feeling, like the certainty she had this morning. It sang in her veins and vibrated in her skin.

And so she took off in pursuit of Heavensbee.


Night had fallen on the Capitol. Peeta stared out the windows as his feet followed behind President Snow and his entourage of Peacekeepers. His wrists chained behind his back. The faint glow of light behind the mountains revealed it was only recently sundown. But dark came quick and heavy. It felt like it could very well be the last time the sun rose. They may never see another. Peeta knew it would be his. He was emptied of all fear—all emotion—lost in the gaping space in his chest.

An aide skidded around the corner franticly. He was dressed in a garish apricot frilled suit. He rushed past Peeta and the guards to pace alongside Snow and read a report.

"The fleet of trains that went missing last week has emerged." The man panted out. "They've been spotted going through Six. And a hovercraft is reported to be flying overhead of it. They'll reach us within the hour. District One has fallen. Commander Paylor's forces have reached the edge of the city. They've begun reconnaissance missions into the cities outskirts."

"Tell the First regiment to pull back to the city center." Snow ordered. "They are not to engage at the border. They are to protect the palace. Have the Second and Third take their posts at the designated ambush points and wait for Commander Dreg's word. That is all."

"What of those outside the evacuation line?" The man asked. "All the civilians, they'll be caught in the cross fire."

"I said," Snow leveled a withering glare at the aide. "That is all."

The aide fumbled with his papers under the stare before he turned on his heel and tore off down the hall the way he had come from. They continued walking. After a short while more they reached an oak door. There were no markings on it or a window to view inside. Snow stood before it with a look of triumph on his face. Peeta was forced to a halt before him, two Peacekeepers on either side of both them.

"Undo his restraints."

One of the Peacekeepers withdrew a key from his pocket and unlocked his cuffs. Peeta cracked his wrists and pulled them to his side. He stared dead ahead. His pinky twitched outward.

"I have one last task for you my boy," Said Snow, eyeing the twitch of Peeta's fingers. As he spoke the foul stench of blood mixed with roses reached Peeta's nose. "Before we can be sure of your allegiance there is one more thing you must do to prove yourself. Before we put you out in the public eye and crush the rebel's spirit by showing them just how corrupted you've become you must kill the person inside this chamber."

President Snow stepped aside from the door with a flourish of his hand and a sadistic smile planted on his face. Then the door opened inward and the Peacekeepers on either side of Peeta shoved him in. He stumbled to a stop near the center of the austere concrete room.

"You have one hour. If she is not dead when I return, you both shall die at the hands of Dreg. I can tell you he is hopeful for your failure. Do not fail me Peeta."

Something clattered to the floor and the door closed with the heavy thud of finality. It reverberated around the empty room shaking loose dust that filtered through the dim light like wayward spirits. What looked like a dirty pile of rags in the distance shook in fright. There was only one light overhead and it barely reached the outer edges of the room, but directly beneath its light glinted the sharp metal edge of a blade. Peeta took a deep breath as he stared at the knife, unmoving.

"P-Peeta?"

The pile of filthy rags had moved, unfurling itself to reveal a small human figure, delicate as porcelain. The voice was like a call from the past. One so far removed it no longer felt like his. It was small and broken and impossible. But then the figure stood on two shaky legs and stepped hesitantly into the light, shielding her eyes against its glow like it was her first encounter with the sun. The fiery red-orange hair that showed through the layers of dirt and grime could only belong to one person: Cato's sister.

Cassadine.


Primrose tiptoed down the empty halls and held her breath; afraid even the slightest exhale might alert those ahead of her they were being followed. Due to the length of the hallways and the lack of places to hide, she had to wait at the corners for them turn another corner in the hall before she could follow down it. Finally they came to a stop at some service elevators. She hissed as they got on. Where were they going?

Luckily the display above the elevator doors showed they were riding to the sixth floor, the storage bay. But why take the back service elevators? She rushed forward and pressed the button. Her left foot jittered impatiently as she waited for the doors to open. It dinged and opened and she flung inside it jabbing for the sixth floor. The elevator zoomed upwards and she felt like she had left her stomach behind. She knew this could all be pointless or it could lead to disaster, but there was a feeling she just couldn't shake. Call it a woman's intuition. Her mother had always talked about such a thing, but she'd never believed it before. She thought it was just a way to make her father believe he couldn't get anything by her, her woman's intuition always knew.

The elevator reached the sixth floor and let out a loud ding in arrival—Heavensbee and his assistant were close enough that they twisted back to study the seemingly empty elevator. Prim kept her back plastered to the wall to avoid being seen. She held her breath and counted to ten, finger on the button to hold the door open. After peeking out to see if the coast was clear she hesitantly stepped out and saw them climbing aboard the stolen Capitol hovercraft. Its sleek silver coating was disrupted in spots at random, probably from the repairs, which used a different material. This end of the storage bay was darker than the rest. Prim could hear the sounds of soldiers prepping for battle way at the other end of the vast room. It seemed endless in its length. Massive pulley systems were operated to bring the battle equipment to the loading bay on the surface.

The patter of Prim's feet echoed across the storage bay as she circuitously made her way to the hovercraft. She paused at the ramp, staring into the dark mouth of the ship. Her mind urged her on, but her feet stood frozen. She was scared. If she was caught no one knew she was here and she had no excuse for being there. They could do whatever they wanted with her and no one would know.

"Peeta would do it for me." She told herself. Then she steeled her resolve and stepped into the dark gaping maw of the hovercraft.

The soft haze of light that filtered into the cargo bay of the hovercraft guided Prim forward. She stepped lightly around spare electrical wiring yet to be carted out and deeper into the dark. She knew there was a floor above her where the navigation room was and more, but she wasn't sure where to access it. She'd only ever been in the holding bay of these ships, back when she was being flown off to the Arena for what she thought was sure death.

A faint glow appeared further ahead of Prim and she headed towards it. It was a narrow hallway with many door lined along either side. Each one was marked with signs designating its purpose: the engine room, maintenance, escape pod bay, and at the end on the right a supply closet. That was where the faint light spilled from and Prim made her way down the hall, sticking close to the side, ready to duck in a room for cover if the need arose. The closer she got she began to hear voices. Her heart rate picked up along with her footsteps. There was something familiar about one of them.

"—Its been days, what the hell's going on?"

"Please settle yourself."

Prim was mere feet from the cracked door. She could hear everything clearly now. Plutarch Heavensbee had just spoken, but it wasn't his assistant that spoke first. Prim's mind was reeling. It didn't make sense. But nothing did anymore. Not when Peeta was the enemy and Haymitch supposedly murdered and she was here spying on Heavensbee and hearing ghosts speak.

"Settle? You keep me locked in here and in the dark for days and I'm supposed to settle cause you tell me?"

Holding her breath, Prim moved to look through the slit of the door left slightly ajar. This was the moment that could change everything. She knew it and so she had to make sure. She had to be smart. She had to see. Her eyes aligned with the opening and adjusted to the light. She prepared for the worst, but hoped for the best. That voice wasn't possible if what she'd learned in the past twenty-four hours was to be believed. She had gone searching for proof knowing it was likely in vain and so it seemed impossible that she had actually succeeded so quickly. And somehow it was his voice she heard bark back at Plutarch and it was his face she saw over Heavensbee's large frame through the small opening—impossible as it was. In that moment her heart lifted in triumph like a firework shot into the night sky, bursting bright and proud, before it all crashed back down to the earth in smoldering embers.

"We agreed this was for the best." Heavensbee spoke. He sounded agitated.

"Well I don't agree anymore." Haymitch spat back. "It's done. He made it there, ya said so yourself. Now there's no more need for this charade. Peeta will do what is needed of him, that's his greatest attribute. And biggest fault. So I will do what is needed of me for him and that means ending this before your egotism destroys us all."

Haymitch made to brush past Heavensbee and towards the door, but he refused to budge. Prim was at a loss for what they were talking about. It was too much information in too short of a time to process. And then the unthinkable happened.

"Let me out."

"I'm sorry Haymitch, but I can't let you leave. I can't let you ruin this for me."

The opening wasn't big enough. She couldn't see what was happening.

"Peeta doesn't deserve this!"

"What Peeta does or does not deserve is of no consequence to me."

"I will find a way out. You can't keep me here for ever."

"I never said I would."

Heavensbee pulled something from behind his back. Prim wanted to scream out a warning, but then—CRACK.

The heavy sound of a body dropping to the floor followed the gunshot. Prim fell back from the doorway in horror, her hands clasped so tight to her mouth it cut off the flow of oxygen to her nose. It was all she could do to keep from screaming. There was a ringing in her ears that lingered on from the shot of the gun in such close quarters. Her vision spun in the dark hall. Images of pooled of blood and brain matter flashed before her eyes as she fell back against the opposing wall. She couldn't catch her breath, but if she took her hands away from her mouth she wasn't sure she wouldn't scream. Then she would be dead too.

"I am sorry Haymitch," Heavensbee said, but he didn't sound sorry, he sounded like he had just been put off his lunch. "But you know how this goes. It's like the Hunger Games. You don't win until you're the last one standing and every threat is dead."

The ringing receded enough that Prim heard Heavensbee's heavy footsteps as he turned back towards the door just in time to slip into the closet opposing them. She closed the door and was thrust into total darkness, much like the world around her. She still had yet to take a breath, but she continued to hold it with her back braced against the door until he was gone. Finally his heavy footfalls retreated until the only sound was the furious beat of her heart and the strain of blood pumping in her ears. Only then did she let in a breath. She exhaled it in a gust, gulping in more and more greedily until she became lightheaded and slid down the door, cradling her knees to her chest. Her hands shook violently. Her eyes spun blindly through the dark groping for something solid to hold onto.

What had just happened?

Heavensbee had saved them! He was working for the rebels, for District Thirteen. With out him they would have died in that Arena just like Snow wanted. It didn't make sense. She wanted to kick and scream, tear the flesh from his face, cry and maybe just sleep the year away, only to wake when it was all resolved, for better or worse. She wanted her mother. She wanted Katniss.

Then she realized she was being childish. Peeta was innocent. He was innocent. He needed her. Haymitch did more. So she stood on shaky legs and crept from the dark closet. The hallway was empty and she darted across to the other closed door. It wasn't locked. She didn't know if that was a good or bad sign.

The door creaked open, but it was dark too. She groped for a light switch, finding it on the right side. The supply room snapped alive before her like a still photograph of some gruesome crime scene. There was a dingy cot in the corner tucked between stacks of cleaning supplies and old brooms along with food wrappers scattered across the floor. Haymitch had been living here for days. It really was all some ploy.

"P-Prim?"

"Haymitch you're alive!" Prim gasped and threw herself to her knees before Haymitch. He had crawled to the corner of the room and propped his back against the wall. He was ghostly pale bringing into stark contrast the yellowing bruises ringing the skin of his neck. He held both hands to his stomach, but blood continued to gush out over his fingers like a broken pipe. There was no repairing it. Prim swallowed back her groan.

"H-how'd ya find me?"

Prim shook her head, an errant tear slipping down her cheek. "That doesn't matter now. We have to get you out of here. Get you help."

It was Haymitch's turn to shake his head. His greasy hair flopped about his head and he cringed in sharp pain.

"No. I-it's too l-late for me. I'm—" A violent cough erupted from Haymitch and blood dribbled down the side of his mouth.

"Please." Prim begged, "It's never too late!" She reached forward and tried to lift him up, but he only hissed in pain and pulled back.

"I'm o-okay with it. I-I made my peace with death a long t-time ago." He gave Prim a crooked smile, lifting a hand to wipe away the blood, but only managing to smear more across his chin. "You have to listen to me b-because it's v-very important that you un-understand."

It was too much. Too much blood. Too much pain and suffering. Too much death and loss for her to take. She really was just a little girl, no matter how hard she tried to be strong for those she loved; to be strong like her sister.

"I know, I know…" Prim couldn't help it. The tears came, hot and fast, burning tracks down her cheeks like trails of wildfire. Her body screamed for action, to do something, anything, but her mind knew better. She finally understood what Peeta went through with Katniss. How he knew it was time to give up the fight and just be there for her as she passed. It was not fair. It was too much of a burden for one person. But she would do it.

"Peeta's n-not c-crazy." Haymitch choked out around the blood.

"I never believed it. That's how I found you."

A real smile spread across Haymitch's face. He was no longer trying to hold in the blood, but it flowed slower now. Prim's throat felt like it was scorched. She wasn't sure she could speak anymore. Not with out the howls she'd been holding in finally finding their way to the surface. Since Peeta left things had begun to crack. Now everything was finally breaking. Shattering to a million little pieces and she wasn't sure how they could ever be put back together again.

"It's time s-someone saved him for a ch-change..."

Prim nodded her head and took Haymitch's hand in hers. It was sticky and wet with warm blood, but she gripped as tight as she could. He had to know he was not alone. He was loved by many.

"I—" Prim broke off as the expression of Haymitch's face began to soften. All the lines began to smooth out—a youthful expression of peace she had never seen slid across his normally hardened face—and slowly the life faded from his eyes. His hand fell limp from Prim's and she bit back a sob. Another Hunger Games victor was dead.

Standing to her feet Prim looked down on the still body of her former mentor and promised. "I will. We all will. "

Giving one last glance around the room Prim looked for anything she might need to take, to prove her story, but there was nothing, save for Haymitch's body. She would have to bring someone here, but who was in charge now? Who could fix this? Before she could come to a conclusion there was a gasp behind her.

"Oh!"

Prim swung around to find Heavensbee's assistant standing in the doorway, pink eyebrows high on her forehead with shock. It was the same one she saw walking with him to the hovercraft. The one with the silver tattoos on her cheeks.

"You have to help me!" Prim rushed forward, hoping to explain. Maybe she could help. Maybe she was the solution. "Heavensbee's a monster! He murdered Haymitch!"

The look of shock slowly dissolved from the assistants face. Her eyes darkened and her hand flicked out to swing the door shut behind her. Prim swallowed the rest of her pleas. Her insides grew cold.

"I don't know how you got down here, but you know too much."

The woman reached into the pocket of her jacket. Prim knew what she was going to pull from it before she saw it and so she threw all caution to the wind. The lady was as bad as Heavensbee. If she couldn't get justice from him, she would extricate it from this woman. Unleashing a piercing scream Prim charged down the assistant. She just barely got the gun out of the confines of her jacked before Prim slammed into her, knocking her back against the door. Prim reached for the wrist holding the gun, smashing it back against the wall. The woman's hand seized and the gun fell free, clattering across the floor. The woman cried out in pain. She used her free hand to claw at Prim's hair. She caught a handful and knotted it in her fist, her long glittering nails cutting into Prim's scalp, before yanking backward.

"AH!" A piercing fire lit up along her scalp as she was jerked back. Prim twisted against the grip and managed to sink her teeth into the flesh of the woman's arm. She howled in pain and Prim's hair was released. Prim quickly scanned the floor for the gun. It now rested by Haymitch's feet in his dark pool of blood. She ran for it.

"You little bitch!" The assistant cried and lunged at Prim. Her hands knocked into Prim's back just as she went for the gun. Prim flew forward, her feet tangling with Haymitch's and tripping her. She fell hard to the floor and the woman—unable to stop her forward motion—barreled over Prim, smashing into the brooms, which went scattering across the floor. Prim's torso was damp with Haymitch's blood. She twisted her body—practically gliding with the blood slicked floor—and grasped for the gun. But the assistant jumped on her back, forcing the air from her lungs, and tore her hand back before it could clasp the handgun.

"Some stupid girl like you from Twelve wont ruin all of our carefully laid plans!" The assistant hissed in Prim's ear. "Heavensbee will get all he deserves and more."

The woman was mad Prim realized. Enthralled by her boss and warped by his logic. The woman took another fistful of Prim's hair and yanked her head up only to smash it back against the floor. White spots burst before her vision and her head exploded with pain.

The woman, satisfied Prim was dazed, chuckled and reached for the gun. Prim's eyes spun around the room frantically. This couldn't be how it ended. Haymitch, Peeta, they deserved so much better. Then her eyes locked on a broken piece of broom handle made to a jagged point. Her vision continued to spin precariously and her head throbbed. Her left hand twitched at her side. The woman had the gun. She heard the safety click off, but the woman's weight had shifted when she moved for the gun. Prim threw herself up and her head back, smashing into the woman's chin. She howled in pain. At the same time Prim's left hand swung out and snatched the jagged piece of broom handle. She turned and with an animalistic cry that wrenched itself from the depths of Prim's throat—pushed out along with it all her rage and fear and desperation until she was emptied—she thrust the point of the stick into the woman's neck. It sunk into her skin as easily as if she were cutting into butter. The woman couldn't even scream. Blood bubbled from her mouth as her eyes widened in horror and her hands flailed uselessly about her body. Prim pushed the woman off and away from her before clambering backwards on her hands and legs. The woman groped at the piece of wood in her neck and tore it out. Blood fountained from her neck and then she collapsed in a heap next to Haymitch, stone cold dead.

An abrupt ending, I know. But this wasn't really meant to be broken up. Also don't be fooled by the length of this chapter, which is ridiculously short compared to part 2. It was just the best spot I could find to break it before the action really took off and there was no other logical place to split it. I know Peeta wasn't too present in this chapter, but trust me when we finally get back to him he will carry the story through to the end and all questions will be answered (such a cliche thing to say I know!). Anyways what do we think of part 1? I hope you all are still with me and I apologize again for the delay. We still have one more massive chapter left and an epilogue so it's not over quite yet!

xoxo

crobb07