Broken Wings

chapter 7

Someone's screaming wakes me up that isn't my own, this not being the norm I get out of bed. I walk straight passed my gown because the summer has hit hard this year, and it is too hot for pretty much anything. When in through the door I know something is off, I and not at home I'm at the beginning of a long white corridor ending somewhere out of sight. The cries urge me forward until I hear them more clearly, it's my name being called with such urgency I start running. I runs as fast as my feet will carry me, it takes me forever, but I reach the end of the passage where the calls are from.

"Katniss!" cries the voice that can only be Peeta's. "I'm coming!" I call back as loud as I can. I burst into the room, and I see him. Peeta is tied to a chair, terrified but unharmed. I breathe a sigh of relief and move towards him. That is until I hit the force field, when I try to go around it, it is clear I'm in a box trapped. Peeta sees me and doesn't seem to realise I'm trapped I try telling him, but he can't hear me. I look around the room for help, it is a strange room all white from roof to floor except for a silver table in the left-hand side of the room holding strange metal objects. Above the table a clip board hang from a nail. On the clipboard is a piece of paper with Peeta's face on it, and a title 'PRISONER OF WAR'. With that simple title the reality of the situation comes just quicker than the group of peacekeepers and snow waltz in. I start screaming for help and try every possible route of escape to protect Peeta. My cries bring forth some hope as Haymitch bursts into the room he sees me I know he does but then he sees Peeta, and I know he will keep his promise this time.

"Let him go! He hasn't done anything you haven't aloud." Haymitch tries to negotiate for Peeta who has had tape put over his mouth. "My dear Mr. Abernathy, I can see you have taken your role as mentor just as we thought you would. So, as a reward I will give you a choice." Haymitch is considering his options and by the scowl he knows he doesn't have any. Snow seeing this continues, "I continue as planned with the boy and she goes to live another day," he points at me with a prim and proper glove. "Or we break and kill her." Haymitch looks at me and I see him cracking, I plead through the barrier for him to keep his promise. For him to let me go it is for the better of Peeta can go free anyway. Haymitch somehow doesn't see it that way because he hangs his head and leaves with no further word.

All attention is back on Peeta now who looks relieved. He looks relieved with Haymitch's decision, which sickens me. How can he be so calm when people are about to do such terrible and terrifying things to him. Unsurprisingly, my attempts to try and help are fruitless, and I have soaked my sleeve with my face guilds that flow so freely from my eyes, and some from my nose. I try and try and only end up bruised, not only that but now the cries of pain from Peeta are unbearable. He is being beaten to a pulp each one of those awful, hateful pieces of metal used on him flesh. Every 30 seconds another blow until he is so weak, he can't even tense himself up. They untie him like there is hope for it to be over, only to throw his now swollen and bruised body to the floor and continue. It goes on and on and no matter how much I beg, plead, or cry his eyes swell shut and there is no hope for him to recover before he dies. Only then do they clear the room white mixed with red and a taunting smile on the face of my enemies. My invisible wall vanishes, and I leap to his side. I look at the once beautiful person who is now only bruised flesh and weep. I put his head in my lap and cry over him until his dying breath.

I wake up in my bedroom again but he only painful sounds are mine. Buttercup comes over to let me hold him, but he isn't enough today. He isn't enough to get those cries out of my head, so I go shower. When I'm done, I just sit in a ball focusing on the drip, drip, drip of the shower head. My morning routine is done in a haze. I have only enough sense to make sure my close are right, otherwise when Peeta comes over this morning he might not want to ask me questions, and I need to finish this because I don't know how much longer I can do it. Peeta's been around more to teach me to cook in the mornings, he is a good teacher. He has taught me enough for Greasy Sae only to come every third day.

Our arrangement is working well, with both of us supplying our knowledge. That is why I can't let him see my pain, it took him a week and a half to ask about me. You'd think that would be his main topic, but he beat around the bush asking questions only about the things he did and the way he behaved. Questions he surely had the answers to. I practice the things Peeta has taught me at breakfast for us, then we play real or not real. If the questions aren't too harsh, he shows me the things I need to work on in the kitchen, we eat lunch then he leaves. Sometimes the questions are very dark, with twists on stories so sinister neither of us are hungry.

Our supplies are much better now, with access to enough ingredient variety to try and replicate meals shared in the capital. No one eats so much they need to throw up, because the people in district twelve have never been and I doubt they ever will be that wasteful. I have gone into town a few times now to get the groceries, I think Sae is weening me off her. She has never complained, and I am grateful for her help, I wouldn't be here today if it weren't for her. So I'm glad I am able to stand on my own two feet more, Greasy Sae has her own life and I don't want to stop her by being selfishly independent. She is adamant that I come by the soup shop he has set up whenever I go into town though. The supplies trains come every month or so which isn't a problem if you know how to not use it all at once. This is a Skill that Haymitch doesn't have. When the train comes in his liquor is finished within two weeks, leaving him in discomfort and fright. One time after the liquor ran dry Haymitch found an injured bird and distracted himself with nursing it back to health. Since then, he has started raising geese. Luckily for them, they can pretty much look after themselves meaning for a particularly harmonious relationship between everyone. Peeta and I feed Haymitch, Haymitch, sort of, feeds his geese and the geese end up feeding us.

Despite our peaceful disposition I still feel like something is missing, and I mean other than my late sister. I feel so, so alone. I'm scared to tell anyone about my nightmares, so I tell Buttercup. But a cat doesn't push through when you need it. They don't help when you need someone to vent to or be told that it's going to be alright. Or when you wake from an awful dream and just want the old times ba.... What am I thinking? The old times can never come back no matter how much you wish them to. Because it is impossible and too many people starved or suffered more than me to selfishly bring it back.

I turn off the shower and dry self-off. But the mirror catches my eye today when I'm usually able to ignore it. I steal myself and look at who stares back at me. They have a healthy body with the correct number of bones showing, with thin physique but not sharp edges like there once was. But the skin is riddled with hideous lines, marks and colours that make everything ugly. I move up my body to my face, where I see a small scar that you wouldn't see if you weren't looking for it, like I am, on my top lip, on the mid right. My eyes are not sunken like they used to be, but they are still mournful and lost. I knew these marks were here on my arms and legs from when I shave them. It being much less painful substitute for smooth legs, one of the very few traits I liked from the capital, plus it gives me an excuse to stay in the shower longer. But this one on my lip is news to me and I don't like it. Not wanting to look any further I put on clothes, as usual clothes to cover my scars. This task has become a lot more difficult with the raising heat, my arms are passable to wear a T-shirt, but the rest stays undercover until everyone leaves. What I am to do about my lip I don't know, so I decide to pretend it doesn't bug me.