I was escorted into the Justice Building, and locked in a room by myself. At least that much was a good thing. If I had to be alone with Zeke right now…I might not even make it to the Capitol in one piece.

I sat down in a chair, wringing my hands, the only sign that I really was feeling nervous. I stopped as soon as someone came into the room, grabbing a cushion so my hands would stay still.

I blinked.

It was Dr. Gaius. He looked frazzled, which I supposed was normal, but he looked worse than last time and seemed downright alarmed.

"Blaze, I'm so sorry," he said urgently, "Someone besides me must know about you, I don't know who, but they must have made sure your name was in the Reaping Bowl, and now the Peacekeepers are searching the entire district for any evidence of someone hiding your identity. Master Morgan will certainly be fine, seeing as how he didn't know anything about you, and I have all the proof I possess right here in this suitcase. I'm off to the Capitol now. If they do capture me, Blaze, please know that I'm routing for you. You must win, Blaze, you're meant to be our savior." The little man jumped when he heard a faint noise outside the door, and quickly darted out the other one, his frazzled neon green hair sticking up on end.

I stared down at the cushion I held in my hands, unable to form any more coherent thoughts, my eyes vacant, dazed.

A few moments later, I found myself sitting on the floor, surrounded by feathers and scraps of fabric.

I just sat there.

Looking around slowly.

Unfazed by my sudden change in surroundings.

My head slowly revolved around, my expression blank, and then turned down, looking down at my lap. I stared down at my hands sitting there. They were twitching, sore, and contorted.

I slowly moved them to rest on the floor on either side of me, next to my legs. I pressed my palms against the floor, so my fingers would stop curling and twitching on their own.

But then they started moving again, started feeling at the particles of torn cushion that surrounded me on the floor.

When I looked at the bits of torn fabric and down in my hands, though, I didn't see cloth and feathers. I saw bits of skin and blood. The sight was rather interesting, alarming, fascinating, and haunting, all at the same time.

I moved to lie down in it all, and I rolled over so I lay on my stomach.

I didn't move after that, staring straight down at the floor as my forehead pressed against it, lying stiff and straight as a board.

The polished wood was cold and hard against my forehead.

I heard Peacekeepers come in, but I didn't move.

One of them tried to get me to sit up. I snapped up and stared at him with wide, livid eyes.

He frowned now, and tried to pull me to my feet.

I started shrieking.

The Peacekeeper didn't seem to get the idea; he kept trying to get me to stand and move. My hands found their ability to move again, and I let them, since they seemed to have a mind of their own anyway, and nails made contact with skin. I merely continued to scream my head off, seeing things that I wasn't sure actually existed, and not seeing everything that really did exist. Someone tried to pick me up but I thrashed away and threw myself back down on the ground, my fingernails clawing at the wood floor as they attempted to drag me to the door. I heard voices, pounding, footsteps, and music, music coming from nowhere, music that sounded unearthly, beautiful, haunting…

I blinked and found someone shaking me. The room was silent.

"Oi, quit it, would you?" I said in annoyance.

The motion stopped, and I found myself looking straight up at Zeke's face.

"What the hell, Blaze? What happened in here?"

I gave him a strange look. He actually sounded…concerned? He never got concerned about anything. No, maybe more frustrated. Then I took a moment to look around.

See, the last thing I remembered was Dr. Gaius leaving. But now, there were gouges in the floor, shreds of cushions littering the entire room, and one of the Peacekeepers was now being helped out of the room to go to the hospital.

So…what were they concerned about?

"I'm fine, thanks for asking," I said flatly, jerking away from him and getting to my feet. I looked at my hands. They were twitching, shaking, and raw, and my fingernails were torn and bloody. I clenched them into fists, my jagged nails making cuts on my palms, and I walked out the door. Several Peacekeepers immediately came up to follow close behind me, escorting me to the car, which would take us to the train station.

Once inside, I sat down on a plush seat in the corner, unfazed by the splendor around me. The only thing that amazed me was how they trusted me to be alone in here.

Okay, not alone. Zeke just came in through the door. He walked over toward me, and I could see annoyance in his usually smirking eyes.

And then he hit me across the face.

"What was that back there?" he hissed, "You better hope they didn't have cameras in there. It's bad enough about your parentage, but if they discover you're freaking insane? Disastrous."

I completely ignored him, staring blankly out the window, my cheek stinging. I had been expecting worse, really. Zeke's temper was worse than my own. In training, he beat people if they didn't do something right. Including me.

He grabbed my jaw in his hand, forcing me to turn my face toward him. "How could you not tell me?" he muttered, "Such an enormous secret. The unstable love child of two dead tributes, Careers our district loved. I can't imagine what the Capitol's thinking right now." His voice was brimming with annoyance and dejection. I guess I knew why. I had sort of stolen his light today. I suppose I did make more of an interesting tribute than just the average killing machine.

I looked up at him briefly, then tried to pull my face from his hand, but he wouldn't let go, his eyes studying my face intently.

"How do you want to die, Blaze?" His question caught me off guard, and I stared at him. "We will be allies, I'm sure, but if it ever does come down to it, what's your preference?"

Something in his words made me burn. Burn with anger. Blaze with fiery rebellion.

"I want to be tortured," I said calmly, my cold eyes steadily watching his surprised face. "I want to be tortured to death. I want it to be remembered, how the child of two murdered teenagers was slaughtered in an even crueler way. I want it to be long. I want it to be dramatic. I want it to be painful. You're used to inflicting pain, Zeke, and I've grown accustomed to the natural feeling by now. Make me feel pain, Zeke, if you do get to kill me, for it is the only thing that has ever made me feel alive. Suffering."

His navy eyes searched my icy ones, his expression unreadable, his grip on my jaw only slightly loosened.

"You're sick," he said after a moment of quiet.

And then his mouth was on mine again, kissing, biting, and sucking, and for the first time I didn't shove away his rough advances; I welcomed the sick passion as another part of the demented hell my life was becoming. Zeke didn't know what he was dealing with, and while I didn't either, at least I had several plots still formulating in the back of my brain, cunning thoughts of plans and survival. Zeke just seemed to like messing around with me; he didn't seem to view me as his actual enemy, more like just a useful nuisance. Well. If he liked playing games, I most certainly could too.