Warning: Lots of whump.
I sank down to the bathroom floor, hearing glass crunch beneath my knees. There was a large chunk of the mirror on the floor, having been shattered when my head got shoved into it.
"You idiot, Snow had strict instructions about the face," Ross chided Michael who was splashing cool water on his face at the sink next to me. I could feel blood trickling down my temple from where the mirror had cut me. Ross knelt next to me and pressed a towel to my head but I flinched away.
"The prep team will clean it up," Michael shrugged. "Can you hand me my belt?"
Ross unwrapped the leather belt from around my wrists, which had been bound in front of me, and handed it over. He clicked his tongue, handing me my shirt from the floor. "It's a shame we had to be so rough, sweetie. I'll bring you a sedative next time. It'll be easier that way."
"I kind of like it when he fights," Michael turned around and leaned against the bathroom counter. He scratched at his chin. "There something visceral about it that I can't get with my wife."
"What about with me?" Ross asked, examining my wrists.
Michael placed his hand gently on Ross's shoulder, causing him to look up. "You make me into a romantic, baby. I make love to you." Michael nodded in my direction. "I get to fuck him."
Ross kissed Michael's hand. "Let's be more gentle with him next time. If the prep team has trouble hiding the damage then Snow might not let us play anymore."
"What's the point of a whore if you have to be gentle?" Michael looked genuinely puzzled.
"We've got to leave soon. We've got that reservation at Delphi's, remember?"
Michael pulled Ross to his feet and brushed some hair from his eyes. "Of course, babe. I'll have the car brought around."
They left quickly after that, murmuring goodbyes that I didn't process. I moved slowly off of the glass, careful not to cut my hands, and stood again. It felt strange to move without being grabbed roughly or shoved into the wall. It felt strange to have control over my current actions. I saw myself in the part of the mirror that wasn't broken. A dark bruise was developing over my right eye, and along the brow bone where I had been sliced with glass there was some halfway dried blood. I had fingerprint bruises wrapped around my neck, and a swollen bottom lip from when Michael had bitten me. My leg felt numb, and I vaguely wondered if my nerves had been fried for good from the prosthetic electrocution. That's when I heard the chirping of several voices, coming from the direction of the elevator. I saw Portia appear in the mirror behind me. I'm sure I would have been mortified if I could feel anything.
Her eyes immediately bulged. "Peeta! What happened?! Are you ok?!" I furrowed my brow, unsure of how to answer. She glanced around at the mess, my face.
Portia hurried over to me, careful to step over the glass, and took my hands in hers. She examined my wrists, and then glanced down at the smashed liquor bottle on the carpet. I could see her piece it together quickly, her eyes flicking back up to mine. They were wet with tears, but also brimming with resignation. This wasn't the first time she had seen something like this, but perhaps she was upset to see it happen to me.
Portia pushed her purse down onto the counter. "Shhhh, here, I've got something..." her voice shook like her hands as she pried open a small box. "Take this. Hurry. It'll help you forget." She picked up my hand again, gripping it tighter when I flinched, and pushed a pill into my palm. "Hurry. Before your brain processes what just happened." She grabbed a crystal glass from the counter and filled it with water from the faucet. "It'll be better if you can forget."
I drank the pill down with some water, hoping that what she was saying was true. "We'll clean everything. By the time you wake up it'll have all disappeared like a dream." Portia escorted me toward the bedroom, but stopped when she saw the tangle of sheets. There was another empty bourbon bottle on the floor along with the ripped remains of my clothes. Portia hurriedly turned me away from this sight and pushed me into the hallway. I didn't realize where she was taking me until I was lowered gently in a familiar bed. This was Katniss's room when we stayed here before both games. I remembered the green sheets.
"Stay with me?" I could hear Katniss's voice deep in the recesses of my memory. "Always," I had answered.
"You're safe now," Portia assured me. "When you wake up it will be gone."
I had not been safe for a long time, and I certainly wasn't safe now. But the pill was powerful, and I felt myself being sedated. I fought it at first, listening to the prep team scrambling around. They were gathering up the shattered mirror and the other debris littering the floor. Portia returned and sat next to me on the edge of the bed. I felt her pressing a wet cloth to my forehead and when I flinched she shushed me gently. "Don't fight it, Peeta. Get some rest now. I'm just cleaning your wound."
"Why did Snow want this?" I slurred.
"I don't know," she replied. "We were sent to prepare you for your interview with Caesar Flickerman. I had no idea that anything else was happening."
"I have an interview?" My eyelids fluttered for a moment but they were too heavy for me to keep open.
"You must calm the districts," Portia said earnestly. Suddenly I couldn't understand a word she was saying. It all sounded like another language, only slowed down, and then I must have passed out.
Portia's pill only blocked out parts. After the interview with Caesar, I was still extremely confused. I did a great job appearing completely normal for the camera. It was clear to me that something terrible had happened, and I did not think that screwing up the interview would make anything better for me or for Katniss.
After the interview I was sent back up the training tower immediately. I felt my heart rate increasing as the elevator climbed to the top floor, but I still couldn't place why. When the elevator doors opened, two Peacekeepers reached in and pulled me out into the parlor of District Twelve's suite. Thread was there, his lackeys holding me in place to face him, and he immediately slammed my jaw with his baton. A spray of blood shot from my mouth to the carpet. "Is that what you call a cease fire?" Thread yelled, this time swinging his baton into my stomach. I dropped to my knees, retching at the impact. "Answer me!"
"There's something you're not telling me," I said, but I had to repeat myself after Thread angrily grabbed my chin and said, "What's that, Mellark?"
"There's something you're not telling me!"
Thread snarled, leaning in and wrapping his fingers around my throat. "You are NOT in charge, here. You do what I tell you to do, no questions." Suddenly there was a flash back, and I thought I saw a blue-eyed blonde staring into my eyes instead of a Peacekeeper. He also had a grip on my throat, but he was saying, "You're either going to give it to me, or I'm going to take it."
Panicked, I looked around the apartment, but nothing looked awry. Thread squeezed my neck tighter, wrenching my gaze back to him. "Something more interesting going on? I can't imagine what." Then, over his shoulder he told one of his lackeys, "Shock him."
A bolt shot through my thigh as my prosthetic turned into a weapon against me again. I fell to all fours, crying out involuntarily in pain. "Oh, honey, don't be so rough," I heard a voice saying and for some reason I immediately knew it came from Ross. But who was Ross? I couldn't remember. Maybe if the shocks stopped I could think...
"Enough," Thread said and the pain subsided. He kicked roughly into the small of my back and I collapsed on the floor. "Cuff him," he instructed, and I felt my arms being pulled behind my back and secured tightly. "You're not going to eat today," he announced, his voice moving around the room as he circled me. "But you are going to perform. Get him up." I was lifted to my knees, and Thread was standing in front of me again.
"You disappointed President Snow twice today. First with your company, and then with that interview."
"What company?" I asked, earning a rough pull on my hair as Thread forced me head up to face him.
"You mean to tell me that you don't remember?" He asked skeptically. "Well, I bet your ass does."
Another flashback came, this time of my head being shoved into a mirror as my body was bent over a counter. My arms were outstretched in front of me, bound by a leather belt that had been wrapped tightly, several times. I look into the mirror to see the blonde.
"What did he do to me?!" My voice barely broke the volume of a whisper.
Thread ignored my question, but a cruel smile crossed his face. "You don't get to sleep tonight either. We'll see how disruptive you are when you're operating on no food or sleep." They hoisted me up and attached a chain to my wrists. In this position I would be forced to stand - if I dropped I would dislocate my shoulders, as my hands were cuffed behind my back.
"Your prep team will come in the morning to get you ready for your next client."