Hijacked (Peeta Mellark Fanfiction)

Chapter 17- Restrained

Hands grasp my arms, waking the bruises that cover them. I don't recall how long I've been here, but they are taking me away.
My consciousness regains with every step they take on an unfamiliar path to an unknown location. They don't travel very far, and I don't recognize anything on the way to their new destination. Something beeps, a door slides to the side, and they drag me into an empty room. The blinding white light never ends, it doesn't help my aching headache.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask breathlessly.

A peacekeeper shoves me down, I hit the floor, my nose slamming against the ground in the process.
I turn around on my hands and knees. I look up at him with pleading eyes,

"Please... just kill me."

The peacekeeper doesn't answer, he turns away from me, towards the exit. I quickly grab his ankle. I feel a wave of deep shame from of how desperate I sound.

"Please. Please... Kill me. Just KILL ME."

He backs up faster, but my desperate grip is strong enough to hold on. He's not going to do it. He's not even going to kill me. At this point, I don't care anymore. After being dragged across the floor on my stomach, I scramble onto my feet, shooting myself forward when halfway up. My target is a gun, or a knife, anything attached to his fancy weapons belt.

My hands grasp his weapons belt, searching for a weapon. My feet give out from under me and I'm basically hanging off of the him. Just when my hand grazes over the handle of the gun, the peacekeeper whips up his leg and knees me straight in the face. I cry out in pain as I fall back onto the cold hard ground, with my nose feeling painfully numb, bruises stinging, and old gashes reopening. Blood sprouts from my nostrils, already trickling down my chin. Tears uncontrollably drip from my eyes. I whip myself forward, he can't escape, this isn't over, not yet. I half walk, half crawl, quickly toward him. Then I launch myself at him, wrapping my arms around his knees. I can hear my shouts echo off the walls,

"JUST KILL ME. KILL ME. Please... PLEASE!"

The guy can easily throw me around, but I've got a tight grip onto him with all the strength I've got left in me. Maybe if I bother him enough he'll get annoyed enough to actually do it.

"I need backup in here!" He calls out.
Before I know it, the sound of feet trampling into the room fills my ears. I'm still shouting when they pry me off of him. I keep trying to get back up, to get a hold of some kind of weapon. That's all I need.
I try to stand back up, to strike back, but they all kick me back down from every side. Four pairs of feet surround me, constantly kicking at me until I stay down. One of them digs their knee into my back, holding my head down so I stay still against the floor, while another jabs a needle into my neck that causes a calming sensation to quickly spread throughout my body.

I finally give up. Every inch of my body ached with unendurable pain. So I just lay there, defeated. Defeated by life and now defeated by death.
The peacekeepers line up in front of me, looking down at me through their clean helmets. Their voices break out into the silence,

"They predicted this, she said to give him that if it happened. The process should restart when he's asleep again."

"He's too unstable, we have to move him, just as a precaution."

"I'll go report this."

Two of them exit the cell, leaving the other two to lift me up. They hold me up by my sore arms, letting my feet drag across the floor once again. After they leave my cell, they started to drag me down the hall.

It doesn't take very long for them to take me to a new cell, they drag me into it, and at once I realize why they moved me here. Chains are drilled into the floor. Small but thick, chains that still shine a pristine white color like the floor and the walls. They shove me onto the floor like before, and cuff my hands into the chains. The chains are a little tight against my wrists, but I'm thinking they intended that. All of the peacekeepers exit my new cell, and walk away. Once again I'm lying on the floor, defeated. My right cheek lays against the cold, dirty floor. My hands are outstretched in front of me, now chained. I'm more trapped now than ever before. I can't even move around freely in my cell.
Why couldn't they just kill me?
I'm tired of all the questions.
I'm tired of all of this.

Suddenly the beaming lights shut off, so now I'm in everlasting darkness. There is no light from a hallway like before. I can't even see the door. Blood spills down my chin. There's nothing to cover it. The peacekeepers are gone. My heavy breathing lessens, then increases. Pain splinters my nose, bruises are punching at my limbs, my mind is spinning. The chains rattle a bit when my hand reaches up to touch my nose, and I can feel the hot, thick blood cover the tips of my fingers. I thought I was strong, I thought I could live through this.

I can't, I can't.

Why couldn't they kill me then? What use am I now? I groan and whimper at the floor. My face stings when I crease it up. Fallen tears mix with the blood on my face. No comfort, no safety. Darkness, everything is dark. Dark walls, floors, black corners. No light.
Sorrow and grief have a good hold on me. Nobody cares.

Nobody cares.

For a moment I rock myself back and forth, as if to calm myself. The chains pinch my skin, they're too tight against my bony wrists. I end up facing the ground with my hands on the floor, crawling forward as if to search for the slightest bit of hope that might be laying around somewhere, but I don't travel very far, the chains pull me back to where I started.

"What did I do?!" I shout, "WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS?!"

The peacekeepers are long gone, the only person who can hear me is me. My voice is scratchy and rough, not mine. I try to calm down, to think of soothing thoughts that will help. The only thing that comes is the memories of my life, my mind searching desperately for something I did wrong that made me deserve this.

I always tried to be nice, I organized the baking tools for my mom, I drew nice pictures for my brothers, I tried to be friendly to people in town and at school.

Nothing I ever did was right, it was never enough. My mom either slapped me or brought out that goddamn rolling pin and hit the side my face with it, screaming at me that I had messed everything up. Nobody ever thanked me or even showed a little bit of gratitude for anything I did, but I always tried. And here I am in a cell, in a puddle of my own blood, not even worth enough to die. What did I do to deserve this? Sure, nobody's perfect, everyone makes mistakes, but I just don't understand. What did I do to deserve this?

All I wanted was for someone to look at me like I meant something to them. I was nice, I tried to be good, but I was always overlooked as some hopeless, worthless Lover Boy. I just wanted to be important in someone's life. That if I died, It would matter to someone, at least one person. I wanted at least one person to care. I tried to find someone, but I was always just that nice guy in the background, always the second choice.
Nobody ever needed me, my family was perfectly fine, better even, without me messing everything up.

Then Katniss.
She is the only person who I truly thought had needed me in her life.
During the Hunger Games, I had believed that Katniss was in love with me, I had believed that she cared about me, and would've cared if I died. In the end she admitted to me that it was all an act. They'd thought I would've just picked up on it, that I was just that smart of a person and that good of an actor, but I hadn't known that there even was a plan, they didn't tell me. For me it was all real, and I thought it was real for her too.
But it wasn't.

Then there was the Quarter Quell.
My thoughts about Katniss came back after being shot down, again I thought she actually needed me.
She even told me, her voice still echoing in my mind like the moment was only a second ago

"I do, I need you."

It was all fake, an act.
And I fell for it.