A Waking Nightmare (TNHID Book 2)

Chapter 14

Katniss

Life can be worse than death. Even though these words hold so much danger, I can't help but agree. I know that better than anyone.

I spend the night tossing and turning, unable to think about anything other than the note. And I am split between two sides. I can stop the resistance group in order to keep Willow out of the grips of Gale's wrath or risk her life and continue for the greater cause: getting rid of Gale and rescinding the hunger games.

The choices are impossible. I am torn between protecting my daughter, or the rest of the children in this country. A righteous person may say that the decision is simple. But I am not a righteous person.

I don't pretend to be a hero. I have done terrible things in the past. And in a different life, I could have easily joined the wrong side. I'm selfish, cruel, and unfeeling. How Peeta saw any good in me, I don't know. But I'm glad that he did.

For this reason, I decide to be the hero for once. Even though it hurts, I know that making way for the other children, including the twins, is the only way to move forward. The resistance needs to stay strong.

But that doesn't mean we'll advertise our location.

We've always been careful. Now it's time to be even more cautious.

➳➳➳

I was hoping for a night free of nightmares. But, of course, I never seem to be able to catch a break.

I'm witnessing my intestines cook inside me. The water I'm sitting in continues to increase in temperature, and I scream in agony.

When I try to move out of the water, I see that I'm chained to the bottom. And the metal that locks me in place continues to heat up too. The same way that a metal spoon will become hot when it is left in boiling water.

I see myself in a detached sort of way. I can feel all of the pain, but I can also see the back of my own head. I am both in the water and witnessing my own demise.

My head begins to shift to look in my direction.

But when I turn around, I don't meet my own gray eyes. I am staring into familiar electric blue eyes. The same as Peeta's.

And there is only one person with my coloring and Peeta's eyes.

Willow.

You would think that realizing that I'm not the one being boiled alive would lessen the pain. But seeing Willow writhe in agony as she dies slowly triples the anguish. I try to rush forward to help her, but it feels as if my feet are stuck in quicksand.

Gale's voice echoes around the room. It sounds like metal scratching against metal. It is enough to send chills up my spine.

"Life can be worse than death."

I scream, waiting for it to end. For Willow to leave the land of the living if only to escape the interminable punishment. For my own pain to diminish. To at least be able to drop to the ground and begin to tear my hair out by the roots. I can't move. I can only keep on screaming. I want the suffering to stop. But it never does.

I am destined to always be in pain.

➳➳➳

The blare of the anthem in my ears is maddening. At this point, I feel no pride in my country. Not when Gale is the one leading it.

The anthem is little more than an annoying buzz that won't stop. A fly that you can never kill.

The only reason why I choose to stand in front of the television is that I want to savor any view I can get of Willow and Peeta. Especially since these may be my last days seeing them alive and well.

At the moment, the only people I can see are the District 1 tributes. And they're not the ones that I'm looking for. I watch with vague disinterest as each district displays its poor victims.

I try not to look at any of them too closely because all I'll see is their youth, and I'll feel overwhelmingly guilty. They're all just kids, thrown into the same fate as Willow. Who am I to decide that Willow deserves to live more than the rest of them? I know that I will be scarred by the thought that they all have to die for Willow to come back to me. And the fact that Willow will have to kill some of these children. But a few of them stand out anyway.

The one I notice most is the District 7 female. She is the only eight-year-old going into the arena, and she doesn't look like she has a chance.

She is thin and tiny. Even smaller than Willow was when she was eight. I wonder if she can even hold a weapon with those bony arms.

The others flash by. The plump District eight boy, the tall thirteen-year-old male from District 10, and the muscular fourteen-year-old girl from 11.

Finally, the District 11 chariot moves forward, clearing the way for District 12. I lean forward in my position on the couch. My mom's gentle hand makes contact with my shoulder, there to give me support. But I don't need support right now. It's just a chariot ride.

The life or death moments won't come until later.
Either way, I'm glad that she keeps me planted on the sofa. I need my mother more than I care to admit to her.

The black chariot comes into view. For a moment, I can't get a good view of Willow. But then they zoom in on her face.

She looks beautiful. She is wearing a pair of leather pants and a top that somehow resembles coal.

Her orange necklace and shining headband give the appearance that she is about to ignite. An almost perfect symbol of a possible rebellion.

I know that the resistance group wants to possibly make Willow the face of a revolution, but I don't think she's ready for that kind of responsibility. For the moment, she is nothing more than a young girl in pretty clothes. But that could always change.

It changed for me.
At this moment, Willow's resemblance to me is so clear. Even the way she holds herself, her facial expression reminds me of myself. She appears to be carved of stone, never shifting her gaze. I only hope that she'll drop this expression though because it is imperative to her own survival that she acts more like Peeta. Sure enough, she relaxes her face a bit and drops her eyes to the crowd. The camera zooms out again to show her waving to the crowd with a false smile pasted to her face.

The Capitol citizens probably can't see through her mask, but I'm afraid that Gale will see just how much she's faking everything.

Anyone looking can see just how tense she is, along with the fury sparking in her eyes. It's fitting with her outfit which is reminiscent of coal. One wrong move can cause her to ignite. And be consumed by her own flames.