lost | the hunger games

• ♖ •

❝When you spend so long trapped in darkness, Lucien, you find that the darkness begins to stare back.❞

a court of mist and fury

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• PROLOGUE  •

I had imagined being in and out of consciousness as they tortured me. I imagined pain so great that I would pass out from shock. The Capitol is nothing if not creative in its methods of inflicting pain. To be unconscious is a small mercy I thought would at least be granted. But it seems the Capitol has the creative genius to prevent that, too. President Snow is not known for small mercies.

I remember waking up in my own rectangular cell, everything a dark, solemn grey. I was no longer in my arena suit but in a thin hospital gown. I had been cleaned, and my scratches and injuries were gone, but the pain of the arena still lingered in my body. There was no cot, no windows for light, no doors. Instead of a toilet or a sink, there were two pots, one of which was filled with water. I remember looking at the pots, and wondering if I could drown myself in the one filled with water. Death was better than whatever was in store for me. Then I heard gasps.

Short, rapid breaths. In and out, and, in and out. The sound was muffled, coming from a small part of the cell. I remember looking up and finding a singular, rectangular void high in the wall to my left. I couldn't see up through the opening, but I didn't need to look through in order to know who was in my neighboring cell.

Carefully, I walked over to that side of my cell. I had whispered his name once, and the breaths halted. He whispered my name in reply, and I savored the sound. Committing it to memory. I remember standing up, reaching my hand into the void, walls too thick to find the other opening. It wasn't large enough to fit my whole arm, and my shoulder ached from the strain. I felt skin brush against mine. Fingertips, clinging to each other like liferafts in a raging sea—searching for solace before we sink.

And I am sorry to say I was glad he was here with me.

Eventually, I'd let go of his fingers, and curled up in the corner of my cell, staring at the void. I do not know how long I was awake, but I'd fallen asleep. When I opened my eyes, the hole in the wall was gone, and in front of me, eyes open and flesh rotting, was a woman long dead before I'd even arrived to this hell.

Mags just sat there, lifeless and looking at me. Someone screamed.

• • •

We were taken out of our cells almost every day. Usually not at the same time, but I would hear things, and see things. Every now and then, I'd catch the smallest glimpse of Johanna's shaved head instead of hearing her screams. They'd walk me through this large, cavernous hallway, where I could see into glass cells for specific torture, and I would find out which one of them was mine that day. Weeks—even without a concept of time I knew at least that—this went on.

Sometimes, I'd have a torture buddy. These were the worst days and the best days, seeing Annie in a glass cell next to mine. There was the slightest bit of relief in knowing she was still alive before watching her be tortured and realizing that it would've been better if she had died.

One day, before my own session, the guards stopped me in front of a large glass window into another bright room. Johanna was drowning in a glass chamber, and I remember watching as the "doctors" pressed a button on their tablet and electrocuted her in the water until she was floating lifelessly. Maybe if they'd shown me this before the Change, I would have fought against them, pounded against the glass. But instead, I watch through glassy eyes.

• • •

I don't know when the Change began. Somewhere along the lines of the serum and the constant videos of them and the pain. And the blood. There was always so much blood. Somewhere in the Change, I stopped reaching through the void in the wall. At first, it hurt to even try, and eventually, I just didn't want to. I was afraid my bloodied fingers would link into his, and I'd rip into his skin, break his bones. And I wouldn't be able to control it because I wanted to hurt him. Somewhere in the Change, I'd looked at myself in the reflection of my small pot of water, and I'd tried to choke myself to death, burying whatever nails that weren't ripped off into my neck, into my jugular vein.

Guards and scientists came in to sedate me, but I'd reached out and bit into the man's neck. If they wouldn't let me cause my own death, I would cause theirs. The rest of my time in that cell was spent in strange cuffs that didn't let me move my fingers and a shock collar. The worst part was the day after I'd killed another guard. His partner walked in, grinning as he carried a strange leather contraption. My limbs were too weak to fight back as he snapped the clasps over my head. They'd put a muzzle on me; I couldn't even move my jaw.

• • •

On special days they made us do strange interviews. I'd recognized my old makeup team, but now their glances at me held fear. They didn't like that they were associating with me now. Ines showed up once, I think. She had the same striking silvery-white hair and a simple outfit with the tiniest of Capitol flair. I wish I could tell you that I don't remember what happened after that, but I do. I remember in vivid detail, screeching as I lunged at her. The small fraction of time that she had to react, lips parting in a terrified "o" before she was on the floor. I tried to snap her neck with my hands, but they were restrained, so I used my entire body, pinning her down with my legs and wrapping my chained wrists around her neck before pulling.

(I wish I could tell you that I'd realized what I'd done and regretted it, but I don't. I felt satisfaction in hearing the snap of her neck. And I didn't feel any remorse either. She hadn't even said a word before I'd killed her)

Hera didn't stop screaming, and I'd almost lunged at her, too, if not for the guards restraining me. They sedated me afterward, and when I'd woken up, my makeup, clothes, and hair were all done. After Ines, that's how it was always done. I was sedated before the team came in to fix me for an interview, and woken up after they'd left. I did not mind.

The interviews were strange. I never talked, only sat down. Before anything began, they would inject me with a serum. I think it made me susceptible to whatever orders were given to me, so I sat. Caesar would be there, and we would just sit there, looking at each other. I realize now from seeing the footage that they'd edited me and Peeta together in the videos, but I never saw him other than the last interview. The day before you came for us.

Peeta was supposed to already be done with his interview. But there was a mix-up in scheduling and, I'd watched him watch Katniss singing on camera. I think it had triggered something inside me, too, when Peeta had looked at me before sending the message about the attack on Thirteen. It was almost him again, and I almost felt like me. I screamed his name right before the guards grabbed him—right before the network cut out. The next thing I knew, we were being electrocuted into the floor next to each other for fighting back. We were reaching for each other's fingertips. I think our fingers were still touching when pain exploded in my spine and the world went black.

I think I felt hope again, in that moment. Or maybe satisfaction. At least I was able to do something good, something horrible to Snow before I died. But then you came for us, and I lunged for Finnick's eyes the moment I saw him. 

• • •

i make no promises about what this act will bring, or if it'll even happen. i'm sorry T_T 

if i do happen to continue, please beware i've updated the rating to mature simply because of the violence depicted in this story! this act will also be significantly shorter than the other one since we're starting from around the middle of mockingjay when peeta, pallas and the gang are rescued by (given to) district 13!