ACT II, CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE ❛ both with tired eyes ❜ content: drug withdrawal, death threats, depression & ptsd (flashbacks), underage prostitution, heavy angst, smoking, violence.
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a/n . . . this is a very tense chapter that discusses topics such as child prostitution, drug withdrawal, and death threats. please read with discretion.
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Madaket counts four vases of white roses decorating President Snow's office, their scent so overpowering her eyes start to water the longer she sits there, waiting. The Peacekeeper at the door keeps his hand on the pistol in his holster, spine straight as a ruler. She feels his eyes watching her through his helmet's tinted face shield, but she ignores him, keeps her eyes on the tall leather seat across from her.
I wonder if this is the room where Snow ordered my mom killed, she can't help thinking, anxiously fiddling with the hems of her shirtsleeves. I wonder if he's brought me here to kill me, too. It's a bittersweet thought. On one hand, she'd leave Lumo behind, and then he'd be truly alone in the world. But at least I'd be dead. With Mom.
Dismissing those musings, Madaket tries instead to accept her imminent fate. . .
After she'd attacked Dayton, the Peacekeepers had confiscated Madaket's knives and escorted her to the back of the train. They threw her into an empty, lightless jail cell and locked the door. She spent the rest of the night curled up on the wood floor, counting the stars blinking through the small barred window so she wouldn't fall asleep. No visitors had been allowed, though she heard voices arguing in the hall all throughout the night, too indistinct to make out. She figured it didn't matter.
She was going to be executed for what she did to Dayton. And honestly, it was what she deserved. The room was too dark to see much, but she could just see fresh bruises and Dayton's blood marring her knuckles, and her hands ached when she clenched her fists. She'd gone too far this time.
She didn't regret shoving Dayton for his nasty words. He deserved only that much. She regretted pouncing on him, punching and kicking him until she had to be restrained, and then smiling at him as the Peacekeepers towed her away. She was unnerved by how quick it had happened, how little it took for her to lose control of her temper. In seconds, she'd just . . . gone mad.
Whatever gruesome death Snow was plotting for her once she arrived, maybe she deserved it. She'd sworn just this morning that she wasn't going to die like Mom. But after what she did in the dining room, it was now clear that she can't be around other people. She understands it now. She's dangerous. There is no telling when she'll explode next. She's spent the past few years ruining everybody's lives, pushing everyone who cares about her away, then setting fire to the bridges between them. She's the sickness. Better to kill her before she hurts anyone ever again. Let me die. All through the night she chanted it. Just let me die.
