She finally reached a place of knowing she'd be okay, and that is the biggest part of the battle, believing that you are meant for the good more than the bad.
| the hunger games |
| mockingjay |
| finnick odair // oc |
| book 3 |
Started : 10/2/202...
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"Go on live television," they say, "like Peeta. Do that, and we won't hurt you. Do that, and we won't hurt him or Johanna for a full week."
I take the deal. We need a week to rest and recuperate. They could be lying. I know they are lying. I don't care, strangely. I need a break. If this gets me out of torture for one day, I will do it.
They dress me up, a strapless grey dress that reaches the floor. They do not offer me shoes. They do not apply makeup like in the first of Peeta's two interviews so far. No amount of cream or powder can mask the paleness of my skin. The bruises make it hard to move. The bones that stick out where they used to lie well beneath the skin due to hunger. My hair does not shine.
They do not masking my branding.
They cannot mask the dead look in my eyes.
"Welcome, welcome!" Ceaser says almost and disgustingly happily, dressed in a velvet suit. His hair is still purple, tied back in the same style he always wears. "Today we are joined by Ember Graves." he does not clarify which district I am from, or which Games I won, everyone already knows.
"Now, Ember, many of us are confused. What happened at the end of the Quarter Quell?" he asks.
My voice is scratchy and weak. I open my mouth to answer. Then close it as I look out at the camera. Behind it is a screen with rolling words. A script they have written for me. I will not have to think of my answers. I want to be relieved. "The end of the Quarter Quell was a mistake. One alone should've won. There should've been a victor. The rebels interrupted the unity of the districts."
Caesar nods intrigued. "What's your opinion on the rebels?"
"They are a group to be extinguished. Extremists who hold no value of human life."
He frowns, "Aren't you one of them?"
I blink, this is wrong, Peeta rebelled in these. You will too. I rephrase my previous answer. "Correction. The rebels are a group to be proud of. They value human life and simply want freedom. How would you like it if twelve, fifteen, eighteen-year-old you was carted off to die on TV, Caesar? And yes, I am proud to be one of them."
I swallow and wince in reflex as a pair of Peacekeepers run towards me, one carrying a baton. They whack my head and everything goes black.
I wake in my cell in my old arena attire, my head spinning, too weak and in pain to get up.
