The Flame That Never Dies

Chapter Nineteen

Peeta's POV:

My tired eyes force themselves open, a fresh pool of blood immediately drowning out my vision as it continues to run down my forehead. It's coming from a gash I don't remember receiving.

I can't remember much right now, actually. Where am I? What's going on? I run through the list of immediate memories in my mind, nothing making even the slightest bit of sense.

My name is Peeta Mellark. I'm from District Twelve. I was a tribute in the seventy-fourth Hunger Games. That's all that's coming to mind right now.

My head feels like it's on the verge of exploding, a thin red screen now throwing off my vision.

My legs struggle to stay steady as I force myself to stand up, an overwhelming pain immediately washing over me.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

What's that noise? Where's it coming from?

The beeping soon grows from a small sound to an obnoxious pounding in my ear. This only makes my head feel heavier, my body slowly growing weaker.

I don't know how much longer I can go on like this. I don't even know what happened to me in the first place.

I find myself spinning in circles in the closed off room, my eyes rolling uncontrollably around my skull as I search for an exit.

The space around me seems untouched; a single wooden chair in the center of the room being the only object, a dusty lightbulb attached to a chain hanging over it.

The bulb only provides a dim beam of light compared to the window across from the chair.

My shaky feet stumble across the tile as I make my way over to the window, an immediate feeling of disappointment filling me.

The glass pane has been severely locked, thick metal bars and chains keeping it completely cut off from being helpful.

Panic suddenly hits me, the sound of footsteps bouncing around the walls in a rhythmic pattern.

"Any news on the girl, Butch?" A man says, his voice distant.

I throw myself to the ground out of instinct, my heart rate exploding in speed, a hot sweat breaking out on the back of my neck.

Where did that come from? I tilt my head slightly to the right, no doors or windows coming into view.

My head tilts to the left. Nothing.

Just as I begin to slowly stand up, a door I didn't even know was there swings open, a very overweight man revealing himself.

"Ah, mister Mellark. Glad to see you've waken up. Are you thirsty?" He asks, his mouth twisting into a yellow smile that spreads from ear to ear.

My head lobs to the side as I begin to speak, my dry lips smacking together uncontrollably as a broken sentence rolls off of my tongue.

"Leg hurts. Blood. Need doctor."

A raspy laugh slips out of his mouth, his head throwing itself back in amusement.

He clicks his tongue a few times, his leather boots scraping against the tiled floor as he steps forward only slightly, his arms locked tightly behind his back.

"The local doctor has been badly injured, I'm afraid. It's going to be a little... wait."

His dark brown eyes continue to stare coldly into mine, the glare feeling as though it's going to burn holes into my eyes any second now.

"Where am I?" I spit, my face twisting in anger.

His laugh fills the room once more, everything I say and do coming across as humorous to him.