Broken (Peeta Mellark Fanfiction)

Chapter 7 - Dangerous

My thoughts come back to me before my full consciousness does. A flood of questions and pure confusion is what hits me first. What happened? Where am I? How did I get here?

I'm on a plush couch, in a different place than I was before, no longer trapped in a dark closet. There's a Capitol television with some sort of news broadcast that shows exactly what I'm wondering about. There's a news reporter, and on the screen it shows us, Squad 451, on the block where all the recent chaos took place. The explosion, the tar-like wave, my maniac attempt to kill Katniss, and the escape. They announce that me and the others are dead. I notice that the others are huddled around the room, they discuss and comment upon the broadcast. Nobody seems to notice that I'm awake. I stare down at the handcuffs locked around my wrists, in sudden humiliation for how crazy I acted, and my false hope for normalcy.

I thought I was fine, back to normal even, with just a few unexplained memories. Dr. Salvo was right. I wasn't ready, and now I realize that everyone knew it but me.

Did Coin know it?

My doctors surely told her that they could foresee something like this happening, if they knew for sure that I might try to kill Katniss again, they definitely would've informed Coin that it was very likely to happen. If Coin thought I wasn't stable enough just to have that tiny nightlock vial in my uniform, then how come she thought I was stable enough for anything else? I don't know Coin very well at all, but would she really send me here even with the knowledge that I might try to kill Katniss again?

I remember Boggs being so mad when I first arrived, how he immediately made a call, but they rejected his request of my removal in the squad, because the president herself insisted that I stay.

Boggs, his legs, they were blown off, he's dead. Along with Mitchell too, he was trapped in that net and that black wave probably engulfed him. I pushed him into it, it's my fault. I'm the reason he's dead.

I can now fully acknowledge what I've done, I killed a squad member, there's no way they'll let me continue on with them now. I wonder if they'll kill me immediately or leave me to die. I'm so useless, so dangerous, and so unpredictable. What will they do with me? They shouldn't have to do anything with me anymore, they should just kill me now. I won't allow myself to be such a danger to anyone anymore. The humiliation and guilt from my errors and murder makes me so anxious to stay away from them.

Is that really how I look when I lose control?  I had wild eyes, with shaky anger, and I was driven by such pernicious anger. I looked like a monster, a killer, a mutt. That's what they turned me into. And that's why they kept me alive. President Snow, he knew that the rebels wouldn't kill me, he knew it would end up somehow like this. He turned me into a weapon.

I killed him, I actually killed him. He's dead because of me. I can't go on like this. He didn't deserve to die, it should've been me! I don't want to kill anyone else, why can't I control myself? Why is it so hard to keep it together?

When the broadcast is over, Gale breaks the sudden silence,

"So, now that we're dead, what's our next move?" He asks.

"Isn't it obvious?" I say, forcing myself up into a sitting position with aching muscles. "Our next move... is to kill me."

Everyone stares at me, they all immediately disagree.

"Don't be ridiculous," says Jackson.