I Bet On Losing Dogs. | EVERLARK

Chapter Three.

I bet on losing dogs
I always want you when I'm finally fine
How you'd be over me looking in my eyes when I come.

I've hated being below ground for as long as I can remember. Our class trips to the mines left me nervous and sweaty, even before my father died. My time in Thirteen had been tainted by the fact that there'd been so many layers of thick concrete between me and the earth.

Now in the Capitol, where we are being forced to hide and navigate the underground tunnels like a group of disease-ridden rats. Being here in these tunnels is only driving me more and more to the brink of pure insanity.

My only solace during this time was my hidden mantra. To kill Snow. To watch him bleed and fade away slowly and painfully. For Rue, for Thresh, for Cinna, and Darius. For Peeta.

For how he has irrevocably and permanently changed my Peeta.

I was born to breathe the fresh air, to feel the earth on my feet. No wonder Pollux was reliving his trauma of being trapped here, I couldn't think of anything worse. The last day has been a truly hectic one, with Boggs, poor Boggs, having his legs blown clean off. And now Mitchell — having been shoved into a deadly pod by a hijacked, rabid Peeta.

Nobody seems to blame Peeta, and Finnick spent a good deal of time pleading his case, but I know that Peeta blames himself immensely, and as I think of this. Of how he is punishing himself, it reminds me of the old Peeta, the one who took every single death so personally. I still remember the terror on his face when I told him that Foxface was his kill.

I'm on my night watch, and I'm now forcing myself to eat some of the canned potato and bean stew. It's somehow both incredibly wet and oddly dry. I swallow chunk after chunk and imagine it's anything else. Pollux is one of my main concerns. I hate watching how much the tunnels affect him, he's been rocking himself for about five minutes now.

"Would you like to check out some stuff on the Holo with me?" I ask him, lightly tapping him on the shoulder so he will know that I'm talking to him. He opens his eyes, and the worry in them reminds me of myself. No doubt I have looked this feral several times in the past year.

I hold out the Holo, and he takes it. He seems to know how to work it at least a little bit better than me, and I ache to be able to talk to him about this, to have him explain to me how it all functions.

Jackson, the only other person who also probably knows how to work the Holo, is currently not speaking to me, she was clearly not happy with Boggs' decision to leave the crazy, revenge-driven seventeen-year-old in charge of their most valued navigation system.

To Pollux's credit, he shows me the best he can, and we discover more and more traps closer to the centre of the Capitol. It's all so overwhelming, how big these tunnels truly are — that I give up after ten minutes of doing this. I hand Pollux the device, leaving him to his mappings, glad that it seems to provide a decent enough distraction for him.

I lean against the damp wall and survey the crew, most of these people I barely know, and most of them will not make it out of these tunnels alive.

I can't help it, but my eyes are drawn almost instantly to Peeta. He's lying down on the wet floor, his head resting by my feet. I sneak a look at his raw wrists, if I could've let myself, I could rub them and soothe his pain. But I hold back, he doesn't love like that anymore, and that would be inappropriate.

He looks pained, his blonde brows furrowed. He's looking down at his wrists with concentration. A wave of concern fills me as I watch him, the ever-present need to protect him is still there, even after everything.