I'd watched Allure and Luxor torment Raziel with a death of a thousand cuts in the Arena, and I had thought at the time that that was torture. Compared to the Capitol that now looked like child's play. I guess it was. It was children playing at cruelty, children who thought they were in control because they held the knife. This was the real thing and the Capitol both wielded and controlled the knife here.
I was still reeling from the sight of Johanna, bedraggled but still defiant. Perhaps that was what the Capitol lacked. They didn't understand what I had seen in a simple look shared with the younger girl. It was one of the things we had in common, Johanna and I. She had nothing left now, except those secrets they wanted so badly from her. They were never going to get them. Johanna was one of the Victors I begrudgingly admired. She was cruel and vicious and uncaring... but most of all she was stubborn as all hell.
They had blindfolded me again as soon as we had left the room so I was left in the darkness with my thoughts as they hurriedly half guided half dragged me down corridor after corridor. I could hear the clomp of the guard's shoes and the lighter, more menacing tap tap of the President's. He was still leading us.
At last we emerged from a door and I felt cold air blowing against my face and knew we were outside. I never thought I'd be so glad to breathe fresh air again but a part of me had thought I'd never leave that building and it seemed my survival instinct was stronger than I'd thought.
I had pretty much been walking on my own when all of a sudden the guards stopped, jerking me backwards to a halt. Even though my brain knew it was illogical my head still turned from side to side, trying to sense anything around me. My breathing was coming low and shallow, which at least meant my sense of hearing wasn't too interrupted.
The next sense to hit me though wasn't a sound, it was a smell. The sickly scent of roses and blood surrounded me and I knew the President was standing right in front of me even before he spoke. "You were not part of this plot, Enobaria, you and I both know that. None of them would trust you enough, though perhaps that is their mistake." He sounded pensive. "You would be a formidable asset to whoever you turned your allegiance towards. I am not naive enough to think that the Capitol would enjoy such a pleasure anymore." The comment evoked a hiss from me and I heard him chuckle darkly. "Precisely. I cannot risk the rebels turning another one of my best Victors to their cause, so I am afraid you will be enjoying a rather long stay with a friend of yours. I'm sure you'll be glad to see each other again. Give her my regards."
Cold tiles cracked against my knees. The hands released me and then they just disappeared. I waited, holding my breath so I wouldn't miss even the smallest sound of someone approaching, but there was only silence pressing against my eardrums.
The seconds stretched away, silent, dark. I could have been dead and I wouldn't know it, except for the pain in my knees, and my wrists where they were tied, and my shoulders where they were pulled behind my back, and my head from the lack of water, and my back from the Arena, and..
The list could have gone on.
I waited, wondering if I was waiting to hear the click of a gun and then suddenly nothing as a bullet pierced my skull and ended my life before I even knew I was dying. Oddly as I contemplated this possibility I realised I wasn't scared. Perhaps it was the dark, and the silence, but none of it felt real. Including death.
The first indication I got of another human being wasn't a sound but more a rustle of air against my skin as I sensed their movement. I didn't call to them, I would not give whoever it was that satisfaction, so I stayed kneeling with my back straight even though it ached, and my blind head held high.
Somehow the person had moved silently up close to me, because the next sensation was the brush of whispered words against my neck.
"Bite me and I'll bite you back," ordered a familiar voice in my ear. My breath caught in my throat and I thought I must have been going crazy, at last, because it couldn't be who I thought it was. The voice was light, almost like a breath that lacked the energy behind it, but it was still unmistakable. I turned my head but the person had gone. Perhaps I was going crazy. The ghosts were whispering in my ears now. When people said that I always assumed it was just a way of describing the way memories taunted you. Perhaps the ghosts literally did whisper in your ear.
Except the next second insistent fingers were working clumsily at the knots of rope tied around my wrists. After a few minutes of silent twisting I felt the knots loosen and then beautiful freedom flooded back into my limbs along with the blood that sent a tingling sensation up my arms. Despite the aching and cracking complaints of my joints I pulled my arms in front of me, stretching out. I paid their protesting no attention as I lifted my hands to my head, sliding the blindfold from my face with slightly shaking fingers, scared now of what I would be faced with.
A ghost indeed.
"Hazel?" my voice gasped incredulously, sounding as dry and hoarse as my throat felt. "But you're dead." The statement was so obvious I wasn't surprised at the scathing look I received from her. It was about the only thing I recognised of her though.
She gave a small, tired smile. 'Not dead yet. It takes a lot to kill me, Two," she said in a voice so exhausted it sounded like they had come damn close to reaching that goal.
I stared at her numbly, still trying to decide if perhaps I was going crazy. The images on the television screen flashed in my head as if I had watched them yesterday; the blackened carriages, the wreckage, her photo on the screen. My eyes flickered over her face. She hardly looked like the same person as that girl I had known. She lacked...energy. Not just in the tiredness of her eyes and her smile, in everything about her. Her hair was dull and limp hanging around her shoulders, her skin pale with bones showing through it like they did on the starving quarry children. Only her dark eyes were still as bright and sharp as I remembered, though there was something slightly wild about them that made my stomach twist painfully.
"The train blew up," I stated in a flat voice, still staring at her. "I saw it. We all saw it." The room full of Victors flashed in my mind, the sighs, the gasps, Finnick resting his head in defeat on the bar...Hyde's face twisted with unreadable emotion.
Her eyes flashed keenly and she leant forward slightly, making me flinch back instinctively a little which she didn't seem to notice. "Is that what they said?" she demanded breathlessly, urgently. "They said the train blew up? An accident?"
"Didn't it?" I replied after a long pause, my mind swirling with confusion.
She shook her head slightly, her hair trembling against her shoulders. "They stopped the train. Masked men came on board, they dragged me off the train and when we were almost at a car there was an explosion. I couldn't see it but I knew-" she stopped, her words dying. Her friends would have died on that train. Her fellow District 7 mentor Linden had been one of them. Although I didn't particularly like Brutus the thought of his death made me feel uncomfortable. There was something about sharing the heavy burden of mentoring year after year that drew people together. I knew Hazel had been close to Linden, he'd been her own mentor once, and the non-Career districts had almost friendly relationships between their mentors and tributes sometimes. After a pause she seemed to snap out of a deep reverie and focused on me again, her eyes brighter than they had been though she wasn't crying. "What did they say caused it?" he asked quietly, closing her eyes and leaning against the wall.
I rubbed at my wrists nervously, feeling the deep marks where the ropes had cut into my skin. Tingles of pain radiated out from them but it was almost welcoming after the near numbness in them before. "They said it was a fault," I replied. "District 6 felt the consequences fairly harshly. Then, just before the Games this year, there was talk of...rebels."
Her eyes flew open again and she looked at me sharply, suddenly fully alert.
"Don't say that here. Don't speak about it." Her eyes snapped quickly around the room and nervously I followed her gaze, taking in our surroundings for the first time. Though passed seeing we were alone in a small room I didn't pay it any more attention for the time being as I focused instead on my fear. Hazel's wild behaviour was making me edgy and I was still so confused about the secrets that surrounded us. Part of me was incredibly angry at the other Victors. They had put me in just as dangerous a situation as any of them, and yet I didn't even properly understand what was going on. All I had to work with was snippets of information and the conclusions I could draw from them. The most useful piece of information I had at the moment was that President Snow was scared, but then again that alone told me a great deal. Things were more serious than any of us could ever have dreamed.
"Poor little Enobaria," Hazel said in the same soft voice, and I looked back at her to realise she was looking at me with an unreadable expression. "They didn't tell you anything, did they? Thrown into the lion's den with only those little teeth of yours to protect you."
Too confused by her words to even summon anger at her pitying tone I simply stared at her for a long time, and she stared back blankly. Eventually our gaze was broken by a sharp metal clang that made me jump severely and caused Hazel's eyes to fly towards the door on the far side of the room. I followed her gaze, looking again at the room.
Although it was quite different to the dark, stone room I'd last visited, it was still very clearly a cell. There was a window, one small, barred window near the ceiling. The thought of that one small speck of connection to the outside world gave me surprising comfort. Instead of the dungeon like stone walls and floor of my last cell this room almost looked like a medical centre. It was definitely Capitol, though it was plain; pale grey plaster walls and white tiled floor. There was a sort of connecting room without a door but that was partly hidden by a wall, that I guessed served as a bathroom. The painted white metal door against the far wall had a small grate at the bottom which I now saw slide open. Instinctively I shrunk away a little, apprehensive of what lay on the other side and so I was shocked when I felt Hazel move from beside me, watching her climb stiffly to her feet and walk unsteadily across the room, sliding down the door and huddling near the grate. It took me a few moments of watching her to realise she was talking to another person on the other side of the door in a low voice.
I stayed where I was, watching warily and assessing my aching body. I flexed my shoulders, trying to loosen all the stiff muscles from the cramped ride as a prisoner in the truck here, tied and blindfolded for what had felt like hours and hours. I had no way of knowing how far or where we had travelled, though it was easy to sense that I was a long way from the Capitol. I pushed aside the thought that that also meant I was a long way from District 2. There were numerous other aches and pains though nothing particularly pressing. Only now did I stop to think about the fact that my body had been severely punished in the last few days with no rest between the relentless Arena and the constant fear of execution in the dungeons of the Capitol. Now here, where Panem knew what my fate was going to be. It gave me encouragement that I was here with Hazel. She was, after all, still alive after almost two years disappearance. It gave me some encouragement that perhaps death was not the fate that immediately awaited me here.
There was another metal bang and I jumped again, my eyes flying back to Hazel and the door. She was looking at me over her shoulder and gave a little motion of her head telling me to join her. I weighed up the dangers of moving closer to the door, but I decided that I trusted Hazel the most in this situation and she didn't seem scared or anxious. Joining her by the door I dropped to the ground next to her and saw her attention was fixed on a small tray of food. "I'm glad you're here Two," she said, passing me a bread roll. "Conversation with Elias out there is getting rather limited. I probably shouldn't insult the only person bringing us food, but he's not the sharpest knife around." Without thinking I took the roll she held out, feeling the flaky, hard crust under my fingers. Food. It had been a long time since I had eaten anything, but the thought of eating anything the Capitol provided now made me feel sick, despite the hunger gnawing at my stomach. The sight of the bread also brought back the Arena, the little silver parachutes that had sailed down towards the other group. Suddenly overwhelmed with nausea I picked half heartedly at the roll in my hands, and glanced at the rest of the food. As well as the stale, hard bread there was a cup of watery looking soup and a quarter of an apple each. My eyes travelled from the food to where Hazel was tearing pieces of her own bread roll, inspecting each one curiously before popping them in her mouth.
I thought about Hazel's words, her 'conversation' with Elias, the mysterious person on the other side of the door. A guard, obviously. I glanced at the door again though the grate was firmly closed now and I could hear banging in the distance that sounded like other doors being opened. Were those brief, meaningless words the only interaction Hazel had had in her time here? I hoped not, surely that would send a person crazy? On the other hand, the type of interaction that I had already seen the Capitol's prisoners enjoyed wasn't much of an alternative.
Pretending to look disgusted I put the bread back down on the tray and sat backwards. "I'm not hungry," I said simply, looking away, though my stomach twinged with pain in contradiction. I ignored it.
I refused to look at Hazel, she'd know exactly what I was doing, if she didn't already if I looked at her. I doubted such a lie would get passed someone as sharp as Hazel but perhaps she was too hungry to care, because she only hesitated a moment before picking up my bread roll as well."Hazel," I began, watching her tear the bread to pieces, trying not to think about the Arena and wondering what had happened behind me, not just in the crumbling Arena but to those I knew had escaped it but who hadn't necessarily made it much further. Johanna's eyes flashed into my mind and I shut my own tightly for a second, blocking the thought. When I opened them again I realised Hazel had paused, looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to finish my sentence. I cleared my throat lightly. "Where exactly are we?"
Hazel swallowed and glanced at the door. "We're somewhere on the far edge of District 3, in the mountains. You can see them from the window." She waved towards the small pane of glass. "This is the Institute."
I let the name sink into my mind, trying to work passed exhaustion and see if I remembered it. Nothing came to mind though, not from home, not from the Capitol. I had never heard anyone mention a place called the Institute. "Institute of what?" I asked eventually. All sorts of things were flying through my mind, most of them revolving around the fact that my first impression of this place had been a medical centre. That just didn't seem to fit with our punishment though.
Hazel sighed and popped another piece of bread in her mouth, talking at me around it as she chewed. "The United Panem Institute of Research, Science and Development," she reeled off blandly, and swallowed. "A place for developing and testing all the ridiculous things the Capitol needs. Most of it is laboratories and such or so I'm told." She dropped her eyes and ran a finger along the edge of the tray. "I haven't exactly seen much of it."
Her tone seemed to confirm my suspicion that she's been in this room for a very long time, possibly since she arrived, but I was reluctant to bluntly ask her. There was something about her that seemed a little...unpredictable. A cross between fragile and volatile.
"Why are we here? What do they want with us?" I asked apprehensively, my eyes flying once more around the room, though it remained empty. There were no cameras, or speakers, though there were two little vents near the ceiling.
"Well," she began, her voice returning to as it had been. She picked up her bread again and nibbled at it like a mouse. "I think usually they put criminals in here. It's one of the Capitol's creative alternatives to overcrowded prisons. And why waste perfectly good nameless district bodies when there are all sorts of things that need testing before they're released on the lovely Capitol people? Wouldn't want to give them something that will actually kill them now, would they?" The sarcasm in her words almost sounded exactly like her old self.
Instantly my wariness picked up another notch. That did not sound good. We were going to be used as lab rats for Panem knows what? Catching sight of my expression Hazel shook her head. "Before you freak out and, I don't know, do some crazy District 2 thing, nothing is being tested on us. My bet is this is the best place for the President to stick troublesome people like us that he doesn't really know what to do with. You and I, he can't directly accuse us of anything, and he's not certain we know anything either. But it's too a big a risk to just let us go. So we get stuck here in the mountains, out of sight and hopefully out of mind. Hardly anyone knows about the Institute, and even fewer know that it holds political prisoners."
I raised my eyebrows. "Political prisoners?" It was certainly never a term I thought I'd hear applied to me, but I guess it was true now. Completely against my will, really, but true. Somehow I had found myself in the middle of the biggest mess Panem had seen since the war.