When The Canary Sings

Stage Lights (One Last Time)

First Person Point of View: 

* 

When the Capitol found out that I flat out lied, and there wasn't some secret base out in the middle of the woods, they were livid. Snow stormed down here himself, promising me I'd learn from my mistake. He was right. They waterboarded me, trying to figure out where they were. They only found out when I passed out from fear. After that, the torture just got worse and worse. There was a point where I didn't even believe it could get any worse, but not even an hour later I was proved extremely wrong.

One of the favorite ways they like to torture me is by stripping me of all my clothes and putting me into a hole crawling with insects. They leave me there until my hands are tired from swatting them away and my screams have worn out.

They also enjoy taking me into a large room with sprinklers on the ceilings. I thought it was for a long overdue shower, but it was much worse. I stood there naked and when they turned on the sprinklers, I loosened my mouth to quench my thirst, hoping for sweet water. In reality, it was hot thick blood that choked me as it slid down my throat.

They do that a lot.

They blast screams of my loved ones through speakers for hours and hours until I spit out blood from my mouth from biting my tongue so hard. At one point, I couldn't even scream as they beat me because my voice was so worn.

. Not to mention they kill people right in front of us. Making us watch. Like the avoxes that severed us. Darius and the other girl I never learned the name of. And then, the way the torture both Johanna and I, sticking us in a tub of water, then electrocuting us to the brink of death. Actually, I did die, but that's not important

What is important is the fact that they torture us to the brink of death, and death, only to revive us with their fancy medicine and machines. They torture and torture us, and then they don't allow us the sweet release of death.

Death.

Why, all my life, have I fought so hard to stay alive, and now, my greatest wish is to kiss death right on the lips. (Sorry, Will.)

~~~

The four of us have been moved to separate cells. Still airtight, but instead of concrete, every wall is stark white. Well, not so white anymore because of the blood smears on my floor and walls. Decorative streaks and splatters of blood that I have poured from my body. Wherever we are in the Capitol still has no windows or clock or calendar. There is no way to figure out how long we've been here.

There is one wall, however, that is my favorite. The wall of bulletproof glass, preventing my escape and making any hopes of it impossible.

Why? Because I can see the others. Johanna and Peeta are in the cells across from me. They are beaten and maybe worse off than me, but I can see that they're breathing. Annie, however, I can not see. Her cell is right next to me, but sometimes I can hear her crying. Despite the thick bulletproof glass, screams of the tortured always make their way through.

Hearing the screams of my friends shattered my heart. Shattering an already shattered heart, that is a hard feat.

They haven't tortured Peeta in a while, instead, actually feeding him good meals. Is this pity? They must be planning to kill him soon. They're treating him well, feeding him good meals while the rest of us rot and starve.

I've gone nose blind to the stench of my own cell, but I am reminded of it whenever the Peacekeepers get bored of standing around and they come in here to beat me black and blue. Sometimes, I space out and imagine it's Will's soft hands. It's hard to do when they're running their rough and calloused hands over me, clawing and slapping and punching and strangling me. Things Will would never dream of doing to me.