BOMBSHELL - Finnick Odair

28

Ember

The unpadded, metal table feels cool against my skin.

Upon regaining my consciousness, an intense pain radiated throughout my left shoulder, this injury topping the rest.

My memory is hazy. The details all blurring together and creating an unclear picture.

But there was one thing that I knew for sure.

I wasn't headed to District Thirteen with Finnick.

I had failed.

Failed Haymitch.

Failed Felix.

Failed Johanna.

Failed Peeta.

But most importantly.

I had failed Wes.

A lone tear escapes, sliding smoothly down my cheek. The only evidence being the clean line it leaves behind.

I was alive though. For now. The tube in my arm proving that they still have some use for me. I suspected it to be the culprit of my confusion, so I had no other choice but to rip it out.

A quiet hiss slips past my lips, accompanied by a new beeping sound. My legs wobble from under me and I have to grip onto the side table to prevent myself from collapsing.

Johanna, Peeta, and Enobaria are unconscious. All three hooked up to their own machines.

I need to put us out of our misery.

I only manage to take one step when my vision starts to tip, the room spinning uncontrollably. The sound of a door slamming against a wall and crunching of boots alerts me of a new presence.

But I'm not awake long enough to find out who it was.

The next time I come to, I'm on the floor in an unfamiliar room. Grey cinderblocks being the only form of decoration.

My shoulder no longer aches and neither does any of my other injuries that I sustained in the arena. Almost as if they were never there.

The only reminder I have is a scar thanks to Enobaria. Teeth marks line my forearm in an intricate pattern.

"I was beginning to think you were dead," a voice grumbles out. I immediately recognize who it belongs to.

Mine comes out scratchy as I cough, "Jealous?"

Johanna sighs.

"You have no idea."

I crawl in the direction of her voice and find a small slot in the concrete walls. "Damn, Jo," I mutter under my breath. Her body is littered in bruises.

"Not my best look, I'll admit," she says, wincing as she slowly crawls over to me.

She doesn't looks any better up close. Bloodshot eyes greet mine through the gap. "How long have I been out?" I ask.

Jo glances up at the ceiling in thought, "Two-three, maybe four days. I don't know, it's hard to keep count in here."

"What about the boy?"

She points a bony finger over my shoulder. "I think he's next to you. I could hear his screams from here."

I make my way over to the adjoining wall and peek through, but all I can see is a body curled up on the floor.

"Peeta," I whisper.

No movement.

"Peeta," I say again.

A tuft of blonde hair lifts just high enough off the ground for me to see. He moans out in pain at the movement.

What have they done to him?

Tears prick my eyes at the sight of him. "It's not your fault, Peeta," I assure him. But I'm not sure he can even hear me.

"It's mine," I say louder this time, it mixing into a sob. "It's all my fault."

Everything that I had been holding back came crashing down, and soon enough I'm sobbing in the ugliest way. All I can taste are salty tears that I know will only result in my faster dehydration. But I don't care. I need this. I need to mourn what our lives could have been.

But that chance is taken away from me by the heap of peacekeepers that charge into my cell. I know there's no use in fighting, so I allow them to roughly escort me down a long, narrow hallway and through a pair of double doors. What awaits me has my stomach turning flips.

"Miss Black," his voice bounces off the floral wallpaper. "It's been too long, don't you think?"

I'm pushed into a red, leather seat, a gloved hand wrapped tightly around each shoulder. "Not nearly long enough," I say, scowling.

Snow just smiles, as if expecting this reaction from me. He's spinning that golden spoon again, around and around...taunting me.

"I'd like to think we're friends, wouldn't you Ember?"

My silence is answer enough.

His smile flattens and his eyes narrow into slits. Like a snake, ready to attack.

"Friends," he booms. "Don't keep secrets from one another."

"Which is why I'm going to give you one chance, Miss Black, to tell me the truth about this rebel plan."

I tense, white clad fingers digging deeper into my shoulders. But I, once again, remain silent. I was willing to die in the arena for this cause, what makes him think I wouldn't here too?

He lets the spoon clatter against the rim of the white teacup. "Well," the old man says, gripping the edge of the mahogany desk to support his weight.

Snow, on his feet now, towers over top of me. "I tried to do this the easy way. But...if you insist."

The hands slide down to my arms and begin pulling me up and out of the seat. "Wait!" I interject.

The snake-like man holds a hand up, halting the peacekeepers. His mouth twists up in a smile. Pleased smeared all over his features.

"You have to come closer," I say.

He places both hands flat against the desk top and leans in mere meters from my face. Just like I hoped he would. My eyes glint mischievously and the corners of my lips tip upward.

That's when I spit the biggest ball of saliva right into his eye.

I get a few seconds of pleasure from the way his eyebrows furrow in disgust. A manic laugh wracks my body when a hit, that can only belong to a gun, smacks against my temple. My legs crumble from underneath me, but their grip on me keeps me standing.

My vision fades out, and as I'm slipping under, I hear Snow instruct the peacekeepers.

"Take her."