Darkness is here, suffocating darkness. It surrounds me and fills me up until I feel like I am the darkness. There is nothing here, no sound, no touch, not even pain. I want to move, but I can't. I'm not even sure I am capable of moving.
Time is irrelevant and I lie in the suffocating darkness endlessly with only my thoughts as companions. Justin. I miss him so much and wish he was here with me. He would probably have something funny to say, trying to distract me from being afraid. As if called from my thoughts, I see him appear beside me, his body like an ever shifting vapour.
"Hey, Em." he says. "How's life treating you?"
It's not exactly a joke, but it works enough to distract me. If I could smile, I would. If I could touch him, I would hug him until the end of the world. I try to reach out to him, but my arms feel like lead and he vanishes into the darkness.
Something rolls down my face, something hot and wet. Tears, I realize as more follow. At least I could cry and feel something now. It is not long before there is a sound, the sound of someone screaming.
They are in pain, that much I can tell. I strain to hear them, happy to have something to concentrate on other the lonely darkness. Maybe this is a bad idea. Would I be able to listen to someone in pain? The screams become louder and I realize that I don't have a choice.
"Please, please! Make it stop! I want it to stop!"
They are begging and the tears begin to stream down my face. I agree with the voice and silently beg for them to be let go.
"Let me go, let me go, let me go."
The voice echoes me and I feel a sharp stab of pain in the middle of my back. There is another scream, triggered by my pain and my back arches in the darkness. I am moving again, but I don't want to anymore. I dpn't want any of this anymore.
"I want to go. Just let me die, please. Let me die, let me die, let me die!"
Air fills dead lungs and I gasp, feeling pins and needles prick my chest. It's as if a blanket is being pulled away from me and everything that is exposed begins to feel. Pain mounts in my chest, building and spreading out to every fiber in my body. It chokes me and I scream, unable to stop even as my voice cracks.
"Let me go!" I scream. "Let me go. Please, don't do this. Don't do this. Just let me die!"
"I'm afraid I can't let that happen, Emma Price." replies a silky voice.
I jolt forward and my eyes snap open. White light blinds me and I struggle against the restraints strapping me down by my wrists. My breathing is harried and my instinct screams for me to run. There is danger near. There is always danger in the games.
Slowly my eyes adjust and the light settles down to reveal a small white room decorated with plush furniture. I lay in a deep blue bed, back pressed into overstuffed pillows so that I can barely feel a thing except for the pain. Every muscle in my body aches and I can feel the wound on my back flare when I try to move.
I look down at my arms and find them restrained by straps running all the way to the elbow. At the crook a thin tube is pumping clear liquid into my system. The dirt and grime I had obtained in the games is washed from my skin, leaving me as pale as when I first came here. Not even a scar is there to mark where I had felt a blade slice through me.
There is movement to my left and I see President Snow sip delicately from a glass flute, champagne bubbling silently as it reflects the light. He is in a pinstriped suit, dark and tall, staring out of the wall length windows. It is morning over the Capitol, golden sunlight bathing the many skyscrapers and drawing out their shadows to sharp points.
The world is now alien to me and I briefly wish that I was back in the arena before flinching back, aghast from the very thought. What had they done to me?
"You had looked up to the audience." Snow tells me without looking away from his view. "You were smiling at them and they cheered, chanting your name."
He sighs and places his glass on a side table, straightening his tie before turning to me. Snow's eyes seem to pierce me, quiet fury and madness dwelling in the pits of his pupils.
"That was the last thing they saw."
"Why are you telling me this?" I rasp, my throat torn from the screams.
"If you will remember, I had never wanted one of your kind to win, especially you Miss Price." replies Snow. "As you can imagine it would prove problematic for the community I have spent years building to gain a victor who knew of a world outside theirs. Problematic, but nothing I haven't foreseen and made careful plans for."
Snow approaches me with calculated steps and my heart jumps the closer he comes. My pulse drums in my ears and he takes a seat next to the bed. There is pain and anger and overwhelming depression when he is near. I find myself wishing to strangle the man, to watch him die and I am terrified by this. This isn't me…No. This wasn't me, but it is me now. They had changed me. Snow had won.
"Now here we are." Snow again sighs. "Which brings me to the final triumphant scene my people saw of you and the choice you will be given. They believe that you are their new victor and that celebrations will be held in your name and you will be everything they ever want you to be. This is your first choice, to live in my Capitol and be their victor, to train tributes for the games and remain alive."
"But I know what you've done." I say, disgusted at what he had to offer. "You broke innocent lives, took them from their homes…You killed my brother! What makes you think that I will live here knowing about everything you've done?"
He nods with understanding and it makes me sick.
"Yes, but you will be alive." says Snow. "Unfortunately your other choice does not come with that option. If you choose the second option you will be dead. Instead of your triumphant return from the games the public will be shown the footage of the darklings removing you from the arena. Such a gruesome image, you wouldn't want them to see that."
Snow pauses, taking up my hand and carefully removing the straps. His papery fingers are cold and tight, running along my arm and I shudder. He cups my hand with both of his and holds it firmly, his expression mockingly imploring.
"Just imagine living here. Anything you want will be given to you. The public will adore you and you will become a legend, a god to them. I will let you live, Emma."
"I rather die." I snap.
I spit in his face and he frowns, his gaze darkening. I watch with quiet satisfaction as the globule of mucus slides down his cheek, leaving a glistening trail of slime behind. Snow's grip tightens around my wrist and reaches with his free hand into a pocket, calmly retrieving a handkerchief.
"I am a reasonable man, Miss Price." he says, his voice dangerously low. "I try to play nice, to give you a choice to do so as well, but you just never learn."
His eyes burning into me, Snow wipes his face and then puts his handkerchief aside to open a drawer in the bed's side table. Without looking away from me, he reaches into the shallow drawer and pulls out a metal band. It is the same one that shocked me whenever I attempted to speak of the outside before the games. I recoil, but he holds me in place, deftly unlocking the band so that it swung open, ready to be attached.
"You push and push until we reach the worst possible circumstances." Snow tells me. "But I am not the one who suffers from your, shall we call it, determination? You are the only one left in misery, you and everyone close to you."
Snow snaps the bracelet around my wrist and a beep announces its activation. Gently he places my arm down and pulls the restraint back on. He tightens the straps roughly and I involuntarily grunt as I am viciously pinched. Glaring coldly, he stands and begins to walk away. A door slides open in the wall ahead and I see a dark corridor.
"You said I would be dead with the second choice." I say and he stops.
The older man turns and I see a slow smile spreading his purple lips. He rests his hand on the open door's frame and regards me with a thoughtful anticipation.
"Yes, you will die Emma Price." Snow assures me. "With every day that passes, every week, and every month a small part of you that you recognize will slip away. Living here will kill you and you won't be able to stop it from happening. Tributes and games, training those who will come after you, it will chip away at who you are. You will try to hold on, but the tighter you grasp the faster it will all slip away. Soon the years will go by and you won't even realize the last thread of your fabric vanishing into nonexistence. Emma Price will be dead and you will only be but a shell of a human being."
My heart seems to stop beating and I can see the future he paints for me. It is isolated, filled with hatred and fear, secrets that I am forced to keep. It leaves me hollow, empty inside and the tears begin to fall anew. A sob slips past trembling lips and I can't contain it with a hand.
This can't be it. This can't be my life now. No. I sent a message to the outside world. They will find me, they will take down Panem and I can go home.
"Oh and in case you are wondering." says Snow after a moment, his smile vanishing. "Your little stunt with the fire proved to be futile. The global transmission was cut before you lit up the night, Darling."
The door slides shut behind him and I feel empty and filled at the same time. He knew about Prema helping us. He had kept me from sending my message. There was no hope for a rescue. I was alone.
I scream, unable to do anything else. I scream until I can't scream anymore and my voice is reduced to a whisper. Still I continue, my tears drying and I become lightheaded. At last I pass out, still full, still empty.
When I wake the sun is setting. My restraints are gone and the medical tubes are removed. The door opens and I sit up, prepared to sprint from the confines of the room. I kick my legs off the side of the bed, a white robe hanging around my calves. My feet touch the cold tile floor and an agonizing shock spreads up my arm and down my back.
It renders me breathless and I tremble on the edge of the bed before collapsing to the floor. My limbs twitch incessantly and I remember belatedly the electric band Snow had returned to me. I taste hot copper in the back of my throat and blood from a bit cheek.
Thin hands wrap around me and drag my unresponsive body from the ground. They pull me across the room and sit me in a chair, rolling my head straight forward and pulling back my hair. I face a mirror and behind me is a tall man with raven hair falling straight to his shoulders. He is slender and dressed impeccably in a waist coat and trousers.
There are two others in the room, both female and both blond with red lipstick. They are watching over several boxes and a rack strung up with a variety of elegant dresses.
My eyelids droop as the shock of electricity wears off and I shake my head to clear the fog.
"Who are you?" I ask around a swollen tongue.
"My name is Dominic." he replies promptly. "You may call me Dom, your new stylist. These are my assistants Gliss and Hilton."
The man wraps a band around my hair to hold it into place, snapping his fingers to one of his assistants. She dips a quick curtsey and selects a dress from the rack, holding it out to him. It is blue, like the space in the sky between sunset and the night. When it moves in the light stones set into the fabric flare, looking like a multitude of fiery sparks.
"Where-" I stop, clearing my throat and grimacing. "Where is Prema?"
Dom pauses and the blonds trade worried glances, concern wrinkling their porcelain foreheads. After a moment Dom coughs and strides around my chair to stand beside me, letting the dress spill across my knees.
"Prema Foxheart has regrettably announced her retirement, just after you received your tribute gift." he tells me quietly, kindly. "They have called me in to help you now."
The floor crumbles from beneath me and I am falling, barely able to hear Dom's words now. Prema is gone. I know it deep down and I know that Snow is the one who took her.
"Help me?" I spit. I want to cry, but I am too dehydrated and my eyes burn instead. "How can you help me?"
He snaps his fingers twice and the two women mince their way out of the room. The door closes and he takes my hand, gently covering the bracelet.
"By doing everything I possibly can for you, Emma." replies Dom. "There will be limits and it is going to be hard…for both us." he pauses, taking in a shaky breath before continuing. "But I will help you hold on. I won't let them kill who you are."
I look up at him, struggling to remain calm even though I wanted to tear his heart out. His eyes are dark brown, warm and surprisingly young. When he smiles they become familiar and strangely reassuring. My world stumbles to a halt and I stare, sure that I am seeing a ghost.
"What did you say your name was?" I breathe.
"Dominic." he says. "Dominic Maxwood."