Liars
"All I can think of is Peeta, lying on a similar table somewhere, while they try to break him for information he doesn't even have."
A shrill whistle bleats in my ear, startling me from my sleep. My head hangs loosely and rests on my stiff shoulder. I blink my eyes a few times to release some of the drowsiness diluting my mind. I find that my hands are tightly tied around a cold, metal chair.
Memories of the arena float back to me. I remember a fleeting goodbye to Katniss, the corpse of Brutus, and a rippling explosion.
I scan the room. The room is empty, except for me. The walls, floor, and door are metal, and a single light bulb dangles from the ceiling. I feel unsafe and nervous, being secured by locks and ropes and space.
My eyes quickly divert to a light knock on the door.
A low raspy voice greets me. "Well, aren't you going to tell me I can come in?"
I don't respond. I wait in silence. "Tell me to come in," the voice repeats firmly.
"C-come in," I stammer.
"Thank you," the voice replies, sadism leaking out of the speaker's tone.
In walks President Snow, tailored in a fine midnight black suit touched with an additional simple white rose.
"Good evening, Peeta," he welcomes, leering into my eyes. "How are you?"
"I'm g–," I begin to say, faltering mid-sentence. I slit my eyes slightly. What does he exactly want?
"Go on," he urges me. "How are you?"
"I'm good, thank you," I tell him. "How about you?"
"Oh, Peeta, I'm doing just fine. Thank you for asking," he chats amiably. He's preparing me like a game bird for dinner. He'll pamper me and treat me as if I'm royalty, and then he'll strike and kill.
In return, I give him a fake smile.
"So, are you in the mood for any snacks? I bet you're terribly hungry after all this," he pauses. "Havoc, may I say."
I shake my head. He raises his eyebrows. "Oh, really? I'll get some treats anyways. I know I'm in the mood for some nibbles."
He leaves the room and shuts the door securely behind him. I hear several locks click before his feet patter away.
What does he want? Why did he bring me here? Where's Katniss?
My heart paces at the thought of Katniss. I've hardly even thought about her once since I woke up in God knows where. "Selfish," I mutter to myself. "I'm so fucking selfish."
I can only hope she's okay. She could be hurt, injured, or dead. I didn't complete my job. I'm alive and surviving, and Katniss could be gone by now. Inside, my heart screams and withers. I want to yell and destroy everything in my sight. I'm so weak, and I hate it. I hate the feeling of being helpless. I want control of my own life, but my chance is too far away.
As I enter an internal, fiery argument within myself, President Snow re-enters the room, holding a lavish silver tray piled with Capitol sweets, a pot of tea, and two cups. He slyly smirks at me.
Another man follows behind him, carrying a rather comfortable looking armchair and matching end table.
He plops down into the chair as soon as it's set down. "So, Peeta, before we get chatting, I'll get you a little more comfortable," he tells me.
He undoes the ropes strangling my wrists, and as soon as they're off, I let out a sigh of relief. He smiles at my little act of joy. I'm sure he'll take any bit of happiness I have in this place I can already identify as hell.
"Now, you can properly drink a cup of tea," he says. He carefully pours a small amount of tea in my cup. "Cream, sugar, or both?" he innocently asks.
I shake my head. I decide that the less words I utter out, the better. He hands me my cup. "Drink," he orders.
I obey him, to uphold any good reputation I have left. Even the Capitol tea is more luxurious than the tea at home, and it is simply tea.
"So, Peeta," he murmurs quietly. "Have you recollected any memories from your last extravaganza?"
I take a deep breath. Everything I say will have to nearly be damn perfect. I have to say something. If not, he'll manage to force it out of me anyways with unnecessary pain. He'll twist my words and show the public I'm a monster that I'm really not, but I must comply with his every command. His power is too strong to deny his wishes.
"I remember," I stutter. "The explosion, and then, I blacked out."
"I'm sure you remember more, Peeta," he sneers. "Remember anything your fellow tributes told you? A plan?"
"A plan?" I restate stupidly.
"Oh, I'm sure there was a plan," he drawls. "Do you know the state of our Panem right now?"
I shake my head. He puts his hands behind his back and twists them in anticipation. "We're at war, Peeta. All because of some stupid, little plan some have cleverly put together."
"Where's Katniss?" I blurt out. As soon as the words float out of my mouth, I want to scream at my stupidity. God, I have to stay strong, and asking him about Katniss will show my weakness even more.
He cackles. His laughter reminds me of the devils in the stories they used to tell at the frugal sleepovers I attended as a child. "Katniss Everdeen?" he inquires. "I don't know where she is. We tried to grab her, but she was already gone. I bet she's safe, Peeta."
He's luring me with this information – misinformation, perhaps – but I can't stop myself from feeling thankful. Snow doesn't have Katniss, and she might be in a better place.
"Now, now, we've gone off on a tangent. I want you tell me any strayed whispers you've heard and remembered, anything that you might now about this obvious explosion. Of course, I know about the planning of merely some of our little arena commotion. I know about the plans for the explosion that was to exclusively kill other tributes. What I don't know is how they managed to glue all the pieces of the plan together – how to break the force field, how to get the hovercrafts to fly in, etcetera. This is where you come in," he murmurs firmly.
"I thought we were just off to kill the Careers. I knew I would be separated from some of the others, and I knew there would be chaos. I don't know anything else," I quietly respond.
"Peeta, you need to talk louder. It'll make you sound more confident," he mutters. "For now, you just sound like a liar, Peeta, and I don't know if you know already, but I don't like liars."