Sugarcubes // Finnick Odair - Hunger Games Fanfic

III.

The past month has been hell.

Or at least, I think it's been a month – time has been hard. The only good thing about this month is that they haven't touched Annie or Peeta. Me on the other hand? Yes. Snow hasn't had such mercy on me. Everyday I'm dragged out of my cell and into the white rooms and halls of Snow's mansion. Then, they sit me in a room of the most uncomfortable chair ever known to man, and the unknown peacekeeper shines a light in my eyes and tries to intimidate me with his words.

I've survived two hunger games and so many other things. Still, his words, coupled with the bright light and uncomfortable chair, are enough to make my skin shiver and my spine tingle uncomfortably.

It's enough to make me frustrated. I'm frustrated at myself at letting these things affect me more than the actual 'torture' part of my delightful stay in the Capitol. Something about his voice is unnatural and eerie. I haven't met a lot of people that have the ability to get under my skin quite like our beloved president. This unknown peacekeeper – unknown because despite anything I have to say, he refuses to tell me his name, and I can't see him because of the stupid lights. Sometimes, I stare straight at the lights in the hope that I go blind. Anything would be better than being fully perceptive to what they're doing to me.

At first, I had the energy to fight back. Now? I haven't eaten since I came to the capitol, and I've maybe had five bowls of murky water to drink.

The first time they placed the water in front of me – the first day – I refused to do what they were asking. I refused to bend down and lap it up with my tongue like a dog. I'm better than that. By the fourth day, I was dying of thirst. I did just that.

But no. I'm not dramatic. This month hasn't been terrible simply because I've been talked to and made to drink water like a dog. What has made this week truly tiring – physically tiring – has been what Snow is known for.

I'm sure that he knows. I'm sure he knows that I'm afraid of water. How pathetic is that? Two Hunger games and the great Kendria Parstons is hydrophobic. And anybody could've guessed it from looking at the Quarter Quell. Snow more than others, is especially good at telling what other people are thinking. I'm no exception to his powers.

The lights had hidden it at first. When I first opened my eyes in the room, the lights had my focus. I didn't notice the large tub of water – salt water – placed in front of me. But I was soon made to notice it. Two peacekeepers – that's right, two – stuffed my head in the water. Now, I won't claim that I'm usually a calm person. No, I'm known to be rash, hot-headed, stubborn. But I think this water – the salt smelled so much like Finnick it hurt – this water was enough to push me off the edge. The moment I was able to process what was happening – I was being drowned, my mind stopped working. In that moment, it didn't matter that they probably wouldn't kill me. It didn't matter that death would probably be better. Nothing mattered. All that mattered was that I couldn't breathe, and that I couldn't lift my head out of the water.

Just when I was about to black out from loss of oxygen, they lifted me out of the water. And just when I've started catching my breath again, they stuff me back in. Now that seems like a dream. For the first few times it was just water. And each time, I'd return to the cells shaken and out of breath, but not quite physically damaged.

That was until they added the electricity.

One thing I learnt from this year's games is that water conducts electricity. And apparently my shear panic wasn't enough for Snow. No, for refusing to help him, I deserved physical pain. And electricity delivered that. After that, I stopped talking. I'd come back to the cell next to Peeta, sit in it, and cry. He stopped trying to talk to me after a few inquiries. I don't blame him. If I was in his place, I wouldn't have inquired at all.