Here's the next chapter! Enjoy! I do not own Mockingjay, any direct quotes will be in italics.

Ch. 38

We're out and into an apartment not shortly after Katniss had somehow rebuilt the wall inside of me. I don't feel sick at the causality of the lady that lived here because the thoughts of Finnick's death are too fresh in my mind. This lady was not as brave as he, nor as loyal, nor as loving. If he didn't get to live then none of us should and definitely not this Capitol women, who probably rooted for the death of Finnick not many years before.

Katniss didn't think twice about shooting the arrow that ended her life, but I doubt she had Finnick in mind. She walks with the strides of a Victor. I remember this, way back in the contours of my mind, so easily killing because she had to. I remember having to re-watch as Rue was shot dead and how she, with out a second thought, had killed the tribute at fault for her death.

I shiver; the monster was still present. I dig my hands into the cuffs to try and gain some footing in the midst of my insanity, but I must dig in deep to do this. I don't feel pain, only relief that the monster stays back.

I try to get some clarity to help them search the apartment, but I know that if I start doing something other than trying to hold the monster back then the monster would come back.

They had decided that he needed to change our clothes to be able to fit amongst the other Capitol citizens. We had to be on the move, always on the move, or else Snow would find us.

Katniss finds the women's closet and calls us in to change. I did not notice how horribly bloody my hands were until I see Katniss reach for the key. I jerk away from her, in the way Annie used to jerk away from the guards when they tried to help her walk. Every crazy person had something they needed to keep some handle on the world. Annie, her independence while walking, me these dirty handcuffs.

"No. Don't. They help hold me together." I say, once again wrenching my hand deeper into the skin.

"You might need your hands," says Gale.

"When I feel myself slipping, I dig my wrist into them and the pain helps me focus." That's all they needed to turn away from me and dig into the closet. None of them needed me turning on them now, they knew there had to boundaries.

We get dressed up quickly and are out of the petty Capitol apartment in no time. It's lucky we have someone from the Capitol with us; Cressida searches her mind for someone she might know and finally comes up with one. She says it isn't ideal, but neither is what we're doing. In times of revolution sacrifice needs to take place.

We reach the place she talks about and Cressida puts on a Capitol charade. It's obvious where she grew up; I wonder what made her come to her senses. I felt a strong need to know her story, but I knew it would be a while before I even got the chance to ask her those sort of questions.

We were on a mission to kill Snow, and our plan of action wasn't even hammered out. We don't even know if this person will let us stay with them.

The lady behind the counter is something I never could have dreamed up. She looked like a cat, whiskers and all. She looked familiar, but vaguely. I wondered if there were more Capitol people that looked like this. To me it looked like an enhancement gone wrong.

Cressida reveals herself and in a hushed voice, with that thick Capitol accent says, "Tigris. We need help." The name rings a bell, a person from the Games. I remember my parents gawking at her outrageous costumes that she would put her tributes in. She was much less toned down back then, I wonder what happened.

I could never picture Portia like this. Portia. I have to remind myself that she died. She never would get to live in Twelve like she told me she would be doing once the 75th Games were over. I shiver. What had she done?

"Plutarch said you could be trusted," adds Cressida. The lady looks as if she needs more convincing and so Katniss steps out of the darkness and into the light to reveal herself. I wonder what went through Tigris' head. There she was, the Mockingjay, a girl wanted dead for all she did, asking for protection.

This convinces the small old woman that did not look like a woman anymore. A low growl escapes her mouth, I wonder if she even speaks real words anymore. She slinks away and in a few minutes comes back to wave us forward. The room she leads us to is small and dark, and reminds me (only a little) of what I was tortured in. A shiver runs down my back, was she really to be trusted?

Hey guys, I'm sorry that took forever to update, if you didn't see my little thing that I posted I think Monday, I was really busy last week and did not have the time to write! I'm also sorry this was so short, it was a transition chapter and the next one shall be longer. Also if you didn't see the thing I put up on Monday ((I took it off now because I'm FINALLY updating)) I would like to know what your favorite part of the beautiful trailer was! Tell me in the reviews or if you would like to that a conversation about the perfection you can PM me, I love to talk to all of Y'all!

Don't forget to REVIEW on the way out! Thanks! ~boywithbreadlover