ghosts that we knew: A mockingjay fanfiction

Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 12

Katniss

I can sense that Commander Paylor, District Eight's rebel leader, distrusts me from the very moment she lays eyes on me. Our ragtag team-made up of me, Gale, Haymitch, and my film crew-have barely stepped off of the hovercraft before she is standing before us, one eyebrow cocked in serious thought. She is young for a commander, no more than thirty years old. Something in her stern features and confident stature, however, indicates to me that her rank is not to be questioned.

With swift, staccato movements, Paylor greets me by shaking my hand firmly with one of her own hands. Her eyes, darker than the rich chocolate of her skin, deftly manage to never remove themselves from me as she speaks to Haymitch about the game plan of the visit, examining me from every direction. I feel as if she thinks of me as a cleverly disguised bomb that has been placed in her hands and will self-detonate at any second. Under the embarrassment of her scrutiny I shift my gaze over to Haymitch, who gives me a swift nod indicating his approval of Paylor.

Remember what Haymitch said, I remind myself. You have to trust him.

As much as I want to obey his orders, a part of me will always remain skeptical of these mysterious people of the revolution. Everyone is guilty until proven innocent in my book.

In Paylor's other hand, she holds a massive shield. Without so much as another word of greeting, Paylor abruptly shifts the shield into my own grasp, and she then positions it to hide all traces of my torso and abdomen.

"The patients can't know that you didn't lose the baby," Paylor informs me, gesturing toward the large warehouse that is serving as a makeshift hospital behind her. "We don't want to risk exposing your secret."

"Right," I reply curtly, irked by her informality. "I'm Katniss, by the way. It's nice to meet you."

"Katniss..." Haymitch says with a warning tone that I have learned to disregard. My eyes remain glued to Paylor, standing firmly to my ground. If this woman thinks she is going to get away with patronizing me for my pregnancy, she has another thing coming.

Paylor flashes a wide, toothy grin that throws me for a curveball. "You've got spunk. I'm Commander Paylor. Let's get you all into the hospital and film these propos, shall we?"

As we follow Paylor toward the hospital while she debriefs us on the assault from last evening that has left nearly thousands dead and injured in District Eight, I allow my mind to wander as I capture a glimpse of the textile District. Piles of rubble and deserted factories outline the roads, still smoking from the attack. The desolate surroundings send a shiver down my spine, reminding me of my own obliterated District. Wind whistles through broken window panes in one of the factories and I pick up my pace to escape the ghosts of the once inhabited District street.

Coin told Haymitch there was mild "fighting" in the district. If merciless bombings fall under the category of "fighting", than I suppose I should reevaluate my definition of the term.

Mangled bodies still lay strewn about the cobblestone pavements. Civilians who were unable to find shelter in time.

I peer down into the empty green eyes of a bloodied, burned young woman who appears to be about my age. She is no more than a few hours dead, fallen too soon at the hands of the Capitol like so many children her age must face as they go into the Hunger Games. She would never have to be reaped, no, but she didn't deserve this fate either, a fate that was by no means better than dying at the hands of another child. No child deserves to lose their life, their innocence, this way.

Sun's rays spill like nectar from the clouds, shrouding the young girl in light. Something on the girl's person glints in the sunlight. I slowly get down on my knees beside her, careful not to disturb her in her eternal slumber, and dust off a Mockingjay pin that has been fastened to her bloody lapel. I gasp, body instinctively curling away from the girl in horror.