Hijacked (Peeta Mellark Fanfiction)

Chapter 6 - I'm Not Asking

Hey everyone, sorry that i haven't posted in a while, i'll try not to wait so long again.This chapter is from a deleted scene for Mockingjay Part 1, (which is coming out on DVD on March 6th) Thanks for reading! <3

-

I'm next.

My death is approaching.
Through unsorted thoughts I know one thing for sure, that I am going to die very soon. After the failed interrogations they could've finally figured out that I really don't know anything. Unless they still think that I'm putting on an act, then they have something much worse planned, but I try to think of the less terrifying things they might do.

After listening to the other people residing in this prison, I don't want to know how many torture methods they have listed. In this situation, death seems to be the better option.

I had thought that pondering about death for so long would prepare me for the real thing, but the fear is always going to be there no matter how hard I try. I had rocked back and forth in the corner of my cell for hours while goosebumps take over my skin. I had always known in my life that death could come at any moment, that I was never truly safe.

Even though I lived in the better part of District 12, with food always in the house, there were always the doubts, and the fear of the Reaping hovering over my life like all the other children in Panem. The day I actually got reaped was when I started to know that danger is everywhere, and my death was always just around the corner, lurking in the shadows like a tribute in the Hunger Games, ready to jump out and get me for good. I got lucky. I barely survived it.

With the Quarter Quell the fear was even worse, not only did I know I was going to die, but I was willing to die, planning to die. There was still a chance, still a little bit of hope that I could survive again, and somehow I did, but this time it wasn't lucky.

Right now, I know that my death is definite, there's no way I can get out of this one. I'm trying not to lie to myself, but my natural positive side still tells me that there's still hope. Maybe there is, but at this point, I'm done with it.

The safest times in my life were in District 12, even if it wasn't the best place on earth. It's still home. Home is where you feel safe and secure, and for me, that's District 12.

I know that I might never see my home again, but while sitting here waiting for my execution, I want to be there more than ever. I miss the fresh smell of bread, my small and somewhat warm bed, the chatter of citizens outside the bakery, and the wondrous variety of colors and textures of the icing for the cakes.

I even miss my family, my father, my brothers, and even my mother. They hadn't liked me very much but they're still my family. I grew up with them, they never kicked me out, and my father always said it's best to see the good in people. I do believe in that, even when people seem fully evil, there's some good somewhere deep inside.

I try not to think of President Snow when I think of this belief.

The clang of an opening cell door interuppts my thoughts. I try to hold back the fear; I will not be a coward. Two peacekeepers enter my cell; they both stand by the entrance as one of them speaks,

"Mr. Mellark, please come with us."

This must be the time for my execution. Perhaps President Snow wants to make a statement with my death. Either to me, to Katniss, or to the whole country. I roughly stand up and walk over to them. They escort me out of my cell, and while we walk down the long concrete aisle, I keep my eyes on the floor.

While exiting the prison, I feel almost relieved, but at the same time the guilt comes tumbling back inside when I think of the poor souls I'm leaving behind.