(A/N: Relatively three months... heh, heh...sorry. Part Two Chapter eighteen... Thank you for reading and enjoy!)
Part Two
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
My mind throbs as a result of the previous information given. The Capitol? How did I manage to plant myself in this place? Suddenly a more significant thought comes to mind.
"Where's my family?" I exact in a defensive fashion. The owner of the voice appears from the shadows. Her blonde hair and snake-like green eyes stand out amongst the ghostly pale room of the hospital. Standing in front of me, blatant and singular, is the one and only Calina Snow.
"Oh so protective, just like your mother." An almost undetectable smirk plays itself across her face, – an attempt at displaying the pure malevolence in which she possesses.
"Where is my family?" I repeat forcefully trying to accentuate my emotional stability despite her manipulative taunting.
I watch painstakingly as Calina ponders the possible solutions to my question. "Let me see," she begins, coming to an agreement as to how to present the factual answer. "Your parents are predictably deceased, and as for your brother..." Her delay in explanation results in balloons of anxiety bursting in my chest, each one teeming with worrisome possibilities. Was my abrupt attempt to save Asher not enough? Is his body now scattered haphazardly amongst the remnants of the hovercraft? "Well, he is in critical condition." Calina's eyes scan me for a response. Externally, I remain apathetic, neutral to any emotions; a mask of fibs hiding my true mood. But, internally, my feelings dart around like reckless gas molecules, swinging from dread to relief to thorough confusion in a matter of seconds.
"You're bluffing." My words – so tender and fragile – unveil the veritable truth in my reaction.
A malicious laugh – more so cackle – escapes Calina's mouth; filling the air with a an evil vibe. "You really think so?" She steps toward the table by the hospital bed, and clicks a button on some device. In the corner of the room, an image flickers to life. As my eyes decipher the picture, I begin to feel like a involuntary spectator of The Hunger Games, – disgusted and helpless. In the video, Asher is pricked and pinned by doctors, sedated for unnecessary reasons, and overall in severe pain. I watch his face contort in supreme discomfort, as a man pumps a supposed healing substance into his small body. Whether or not the footage is real, tears still begin to swell in my eyes. "Sadly he has suffered third degree burns. As for your parents, they are M.I.A.."
"So they might not be dead." The words launch from my mouth like a bullet from the barrel of a gun.
Calina frowns. "But they most likely are. Your hovercraft landed on the border of thirteen and twelve, which, might I add, entirely consists of forestry. There is small percentage of survival." You don't know my mother, I think, she can live off of nature.
As Calina shuts off the video feeding, a sudden risky worry comes to mind. "What about Annie and Everest?"
"Everest is here." she replies in a bland and thoughtless manner. Great, they've got all of the Victors children.
I rapidly direct my vision to the series of cuts and burns that blanket my arms. "Why didn't you just let me die?" I ask, vulnerable to her and all else.
"Because Miss Mellark, that would be doing you a favor, and clearly I do not owe you any favors." She snarls, her voice echoing off the austere walls of the hospital room. Her words hint her plans for me in the future, and I from what I can tell, in will not be pleasant. Calina presents me with one last smirk before leaving me with my thoughts.
As soon as the door shuts with a deafening cling, my mind practically bursts with 'what if's'
What if my parents died? What if they don't know we are here? What if Asher dies?
All these questions prevent my body from sleep, resulting in a cloud of drowsiness to hover above my head. At the moment, rest is my worst enemy. There is no doubt that as soon as my eyelids shut, vivid images of the crash lingering in my hippocampus will result in a hazardous plethora of nightmares.
I wonder how Everest is coping with the news of our captivity. He may be physically okay, but mentally, … well, that is a different matter; especially if Calina is aware of Leah. If so, then wouldn't we know? But why would they need her? Then again, why do they want us?
I silently scold myself for asking a question in which I already know the answer to. There is only one valid reason as to why they would do this, and that would be to break our parents...more so my mother. This could potentially stop her from leading another rebellion. Clearly that was Mayor Brookes' intention. She did it once , she can do it again, as long as there is nothing stopping her. Though, Asher and I in the Capitol's hands will.
I can't even imagine Annie right now. She is probably completely distraught. I know I would be if my family was in the hands of diabolical people; and it doesn't really help that this sort of thing is familiar to her in the past.
The resemblance between this and the previous rebellion is almost spooky. It's as if Calina is attempting to mimic her grandfather's actions entirely. I just sincerely hope that this one is not as bloody and deadly as the last, if there even is one at all.
The ominous creak of the metallic hospital door's hinges interrupts my thoughts. A young doctor who appears to be no more than twenty years old, enters my realm of vision and begins to check the data on the screen next to my bed – not even bothering to introduce himself or utter any simple phrase. Completely absorbed in the information, he haphazardly scribbles down notes pertaining to my condition.
"Is Asher, my brother, okay?" I ask, penetrating the once dead silence. This may be my only chance to obtain reassuring facts about him without negative assumptions constantly thrown back in response.
The man remains dedicated to his work, and disregards my words, not to mention my presence; but when I ask the question again, he finds his voice. "That information is classified."
Classified? Calina didn't act like my brother's condition was some big secret, in fact, she seemed quite ecstatic for me to know. Anger courses vigorously through my veins. "I am his sister, I deserve to have some sort of report." I growl.
"Not even family is allowed to know the state of the kid." The guy best be glad that I am thoroughly unarmed (not that I would be in any condition to harm, even if I did have a weapon.)
My brain just forms a rude retort, when I feel a slight pinch in my right arm. I whip my head around, only to see a large syringe inserting some clear substance into my body. As if instinctively, my other arm swings up and attempts at thwacking the medical tool out of his hand, but it's too late – the last of its contents has already been emptied into my bloodstream. My mind grows foggy, and I think this must be how Haymitch sees the world... before passing out.
I slowly lift my head from the dark pillow, cautious of the pounding pain present inside. Wait, dark pillow? My torso quickly jerks upward, allowing my eyes to absorb the details of my surrounding milieu. To my surprise, I am no longer in the sterile, antiseptic-smelling hospital room, but only a dull alcove that lacks windows, interest, and color. The walls are painfully bare, and it seems as though there is no exit or entrance anywhere. Then how did I get in here, I wonder while scanning each nook and cranny, searching for some way of escape. As expected, I come up short. My breathing slows and it feels as though the walls are closing in on me. How could I have allowed myself to be so... trapped? Rapid, excited footsteps abruptly pierce my thoughts.
"Ah, there she is!" squeals a voice clearly overjoyed to see me. I apprehensively turn my head toward the sound. Staring down on me are three eccentric looking people. One has vibrant untamed red hair and orange skin like a walking flame. The other two aren't as bad, but you can obviously tell that they have had things physically altered. Unmistakably they are from the Capitol. I remember my mother telling me that citizens of this place had a rather interesting sense of fashion, but my mental visual hadn't come anywhere close to this! All three wear smiles on their pigmented faces stating that, even through slightly weird, they are not the enemy. "Hello Willow!" squeaks one of them in a tone that has to be at least five octaves higher than humanly possible. How do they know my name?, is the first thing that pops into my head. "My name is Aelia, and this is my twin brother Aelius." She gestures to the guy with the fiery appearance. All things considered, I can still see the resemblance. "And that's Lucia." A girl who looks slightly younger than Aelia with blue tattoos trailing down both her arms, gives me a small, uneasy wave.
I smile nervously, and wave back. "Hi."
"We are here to help you get ready for your interview!" announces Aelia. Interview? What?
"Why do I need to be interviewed?" I ask, entirely baffled.
"So everyone can know you survived that horrible crash and see you of course!"
A million thoughts race around in my mind. "My parents," I start, "are they alive?" The question may have been incongruous to our conversation, but they might have information to share.
Their faces grow solemn. "We should get started." replies Aelius trying to change the subject and refraining from speaking whatever they know.
Finally, after much scrubbing, brushing,and cutting, I am presentable. Aelia had pulled my wavy hair back with a jet black ribbon that glistens when held up to the light. The dress they had decided to put me in (after a surfeit of debating) is gray with a black sash across the waist, and matching trim. It falls just below my knees and moves as swift as smoke when I walk. The color in general would look better on my mother, with her stormy gray eyes, but Aelia is convinced that it matches my light blue orbs just as well, despite my strong disagreement.
I glance tentatively back down at the fabric. As pretty as it is, the colors (or should I say neutrals) make me feel as though I am attending a funeral, and for some ominous reason... it might just be my own.