Disclaimer: This chapter will be heavily filled with quotes from Mockingjay. The quotes will be in italics, and are, of course, not mine, but Suzanne Collin's.

A Simple Game

"So it's almost entertaining to see Caesar Flickerman, the eternal host of the Hunger Games, with his painted face and sparkly suit, preparing to give an interview. Until the camera pulls back and I see that his guest is Peeta."

Snow, he leaves me alone for a few days. I tend to keep to myself, making imaginary scenarios in my head about Katniss. I think about my family, my friends, and the world around me. I wonder if anyone really misses me. I wonder if anyone felt my absence.

I develop somewhat of a routine, despite my ever-growing fears of an endless containment. I continue to wake up at four o'clock in the morning – an unbreakable habit from my days at the bakery. I sit in bed and ponder; it's too early in the morning to move around and make noise. Later, after I hear rustling from another cell, I use the bathroom. There's no privacy, so everything – everything – must be shared and embraced. I scratch a tally mark into the wall, representing the days I've been here.

Sometimes I cry, quietly and muffled. Most of the time, I dream about Katniss.

Annie cries nearly everyday, and I can't stand to say nothing, but I must. I live in terror that anything I say will be used against me.

I eat two meals a day, and the guards remind me of how damn grateful I am. "You know, you got off lucky," he smirks, handing me a bowl of gray, lumpy oatmeal. "Besides the food you've had in the Capitol, I bet you haven't had anything better."

I stifle an urge to scream at him.

I'm both lonely and alone.

Snow comes for me at six in the morning.

He – not a guard, not an assisant of his, him in the flesh – struts towards my cell, leans down as if he were talking to a small child, and whispers, "You're needed, Peeta."

I blink a few times. He unlocks the small door and firmly grasps me in the forearm.

"I said, you're needed, Peeta."

I nod my head. "Yes, sir."

Annie shoots me a concerned glance as I pass and mouth a quick it's okay to her.

He leads me to yet another empty room down the hallway.

"I'm going to have Caesar Flickerman interview you," he says promptly.

I scrunch up my eyebrows and sensing my confusion, he continues, "I need you to help, how do I say, clarify a few things."

"What if I don't?" I question.

He smirks. "Peeta Mellark," he says, lingering on the last syllable of my name, "What do you think will happen?"

I don't respond.

"You're going to have to behave, Mellark. Convince them with that golden tongue of yours."

He whispers a few things in my ears; something about a plan, a ceasefire, a punishment.

I nod.

I feel like a traitor, like I'm being used. I wonder – what did I ever do that made me deserve this?

Several Capitol attendants usher me into my old changing room and prepare me for my interview.

They wash my face, clean my body, shave the stubble off of my jaw, and dress me in a fine blue suit with a silk white tie.

"It really compliments his eyes," one of the attendants murmurs to another.

I clench my teeth in anger. I've never really been more than just a simple toy, haven't I?

Caesar greets me as the attendants finish dusting their final touches of makeup on my face.

"Why hello, Peeta! I certainly am excited to interview you," he says, grinning.

He's unnatural, fake, and sends shivers down my spine.

"Hello, Caesar. I know I'm certainly excited to have the honor of being interviewed you, again."

He chortles. "Of course you are, Peeta. I'll see you in a few!"

I'm sick to my stomach.

I plop down into a white leather across from Caesar's. He orders me to swivel around in order to surprise the Capitol citizens with my appearance. I wonder if Katniss is watching me.

What will she think of me, if I lie to the entire country? What will she think of me, if I tell the truth?

What will happen after this?

Caesar signals for me to turn around after he greets the audience.

"So…Peeta…welcome back," he says, boldly, adjusting himself in his chair.

I force myself to smile. "I bet you thought you'd done your last interview with me, Caesar."

Lying is easy. Lying is okay. If I mess up, the only person who will be hurt will be me, and that's perfectly fine. As long as it's not Katniss, it's okay.

"I confess, I did," says Caesar. "The night before the Quarter Quell…well, who ever thought we'd see you again?"

I can feel a drop of sweat fall from my forehead. From the crowd, Snow gives me a wink. "It wasn't part of my plan, that's for sure," I tell him. I frown just the slightest bit. Perhaps I can convince that Katniss and I were innocent – that we were nothing more than just pawns in a chess game, like always.

He leans into me. "I think it was clear to all of us what your plan was. To sacrifice yourself in the arena so that Katniss Everdeen and your child could survive."

Snow damn well knows that the child was fake, but shit, this man – Caesar Flickerman – he can play his cards well.

"That was it. Clear and simple," I murmur. I trace my fingers slowly on the arm of the chair. "But other people had plans as well."

"Why don't you tell us about that last night in the arena? Help us sort a few things out?"

Caesar's been training with Snow, as well. God, the damn manipulator.

I nod slowly and take a deep breath. "That last night…to tell you about that last night…well, first of all, you have to imagine how it felt in the arena," he says slowly. "It was like being an insect trapped under a bowl filled with steaming air. And all around you, jungle…green and alive and ticking. That giant clock ticking away your life. Every hour promising some new hour. You have to imagine that in the past two days, sixteen people have died – some of them defending you. At the rate things are going, the last eight will be dead by morning. Save one. The victor. And your plan is that it won't be you."

I pray to a god that I don't know exists that I'm doing this right.

"Once you're in the arena, the rest of the world becomes very distant. All the people and things you loved or cared about almost cease to exist. The pink sky and the monsters in the jungle and the tributes who want your blood become your final reality, the only one that ever mattered. As bad as it makes you feel, you're going to have to do some killing, because in the arena, you only get one wish. And it's very costly."

Caesar comments, "It costs your life."

"Oh no, It costs a lot more than your life. To murder innocent people?" I retort. "It costs everything you are."

"Everything you are," repeats Caesar in a hushed whisper.

The audience is silent – waiting on the edge of their seats, demanding to hear more. I linger out the peace, to build suspense. There is planning and coordination into speaking; it's not just a simple game.

And really, the funny thing is, is that I haven't told a single lie so far.

A/N: The next chapter should be coming out shortly, since it'll be more like a part two this chapter. Thank you so much for reading; I really appreciate it. Also, in unrelated news, I changed my Tumblr url to lesterful; the link is on my profile. Again, thank you for reading, and I hope you have a great day!