Tortured but Together (A Hunger Games Fanfiction) [UNDER EDITING]

Chapter Twenty-Eight

A/N: Usual PSA that the Hunger Games characters belong to Suzanne Collins and not to me. That being said, enjoy! ;)

(Katniss POV)
One moment I'm watching a movie with Peeta, the next moment I'm being dragged through the hallways like a rag doll by the peacekeepers. To say I'm confused would be an understatement. What could they possibly be mad at me for this time? I just don't get it; can't they already see how broken I am?

"Eyes on the floor," one of them barks at me. I quickly comply, maybe if I'm cooperative enough they won't torture me again. Of course that's not how this really works, but I'm desperate to find some small bit of optimism to cling to.

It's easy to tell as soon as we reach the underground levels, this is where they keep the cells, where they torture people so that their screams can't be heard. My heart pounds in my ears and I can feel my breathing becoming quick and shallow. Not underground again, not this place. My eyes dart around frantically, looking to escape, somehow.

"I said eyes on the floor!" This time, my head gets pushed downward roughly. Angrily, I jerk my head back up.

"Why does it matter where I look? You'll torture me either way! I might as well keep some small shred of my dignity!" My tone surprises me, the fierceness, the malice; I sound like the Mockingjay.

"Eyes to the floor, bitch! I could easily drain the life out of you for a comment like that! The only reason you're still alive is because of President Snow's orders!"

I snarl at him, nobody kills Katniss Everdeen; they've already tried, and they've failed. They won't succeed this time either, I'll make sure of it; I'm just too damn stubborn to die.

A set of double doors gets slammed open a few seconds later. "She's your problem now Chantelle! Deal with her how you want but make sure she's alive at the end of it."

I'm shoved roughly to the floor, landing on my hands and knees. Quickly getting up, I try to run out before the door closes but I'm not quite fast enough. Chantelle smiles at me like a cat would look at a mouse, almost like she's amused.

"What's it gonna be this time huh? Burning? Drowning? Jabberjays?"

"No. We'll be trying something new today Miss Everdeen. If you would be kind enough to take a seat in the chair," she gestures. In response, I spit at her feet. Whatever they're planning, they won't get it done without me fighting like hell.

She sighs, "You really must learn some manners. It would make this whole experience so much easier for you, and so much less painful." Snapping her fingers, two people in lab coats grab my arms in a viselike grip and force me to sit down on the chair.

"Go to hell! The lot of you can go to hell!"

Walking over to the back counter, Chantelle prepares a syringe. She fills it with a liquid I swear I can remember from before, but I can't quite put my finger on it. As soon as she has her back turned, I try to leap up and bolt, but restraints around my ankles, stomach, and wrists effectively prevent that. Turning around, Chantelle lets out an airy laugh. "Oh Miss Everdeen, you should know by now that you cannot escape the Capitol. We will always find you, and we will always make you pay."

The lighthearted and perky tone in her voice just adds to how creepy this already feels. "What's in the syringe?"

"Memories."

She walks up to me, and jabs the syringe into my arm. I feel an immense pain, and I also see a screen light up in front of me. The screen shows things that didn't happen, my mother and Prim dying when district 12 was bombed, the Capitol saving me from starvation when I was younger by sending food aid...