Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
PEETA HAD BEEN DRUG AWAY AGAIN. He looked worse than the last time. He was thin, his eyes were dark, and his face was pale. The worst part, he wasn't calling out for Octavia to help him.
He had lost hope.
In his next interview, it was clear that they were ruining him. He shakily addressed Katniss, begging her to stop letting the rebels use her and begging her to stop the war.
Octavia heard the footsteps dragging him along after the fact. She, herself, was no longer able to call out for help.
When Gianni said that he wouldn't hurt her, she should've known he meant physically. Whatever he'd been giving her at night had sent her into a deeply haunting dream state. She desperately clung to reality, but was slowly beginning to slip.
She knew that she had to get out.
She didn't know how they were manipulating her dreams, but she knew that they were doing it. The helplessness of it all was killing her.
Gianni lets himself in after a while. Octavia had no way of knowing the time, but she assumed it was morning.
"Hi," he greets, following his usual routine of jotting down her blood pressure and whatever other information he needed. Octavia didn't bother to respond.
"What's wrong?" He asks as a frown forms on his face. Octavia ignores him. He approaches her and lays his hand on her collarbone. She doesn't react to his touch. "You can't ignore me, Octavia."
"Yes, I can."
"I don't think you want to see what the other tributes have gotten themselves into, do you?" He questions. Octavia clenches her jaw.
"You did something to me last night. I had these dreams," she says reluctantly, shaking her head as she speaks.
"Dreams about what?" He asks. She furrows her brows in anger.
"You know what."
"Octavia, if you're having dreams about Finnick, maybe it's because your subconscious knows better than you. I can't control your dreams."
"You're lying!" She shouts, jerking up but being caught by the restraints. He tilts his head.
"He left you there, Octavia," he states firmly. Octavia doesn't look at him. It wasn't true, it couldn't be.
Gianni sighs, stepping back from Octavia. He awkwardly clears his throat.
"Next time I see you will be," his voice trails off as he looks down at his wristwatch, "after the surgery on floor eight."
He leaves without another word. Octavia's chest aches, eager to let out a cry of frustration. She blinks her tears away and forces herself to think about how to get her and her friends out of this.
