Peeta Mellark's POV (Catching Fire & Mockingjay)

Part 8

The Peacekeepers lead me out of the white room and into a dark corridor, glowing with small lights along the floor. It takes a minute for my eyes to adjust to the vagueness. But my knees buckle with each step. Locked in the Cage, I have battled dehydration, exhaustion and muscle deterioration has rendered my legs weak. The Peacekeepers march, half-dragging and half-heaving me down the corridor. The heavy footfall of their thick black boots echoes in my ears. The metal cuffs rubs against my wrists once again. Although my body is numb to the bone, immediately I'm acquainted with the ache. At the end of the corridor, doors open and I'm both confronted and comforted by familiar grimaces: the twin Peacekeepers, Frankie and his brother who'd I'd named, Bennie.

In silence, I'm exchanged like damaged goods at the local market. And with the swoosh of the doors and a buzz of a button, I'm confined in the elevator once more. Faced with my reflection for the first time since Portia's pampering, the man who gazes back is repulsive. My physical transformation is sickening. No longer was my body burly. Nor my muscles strong and tone. My skin is sullen, having lost its healthy glow. My eyes bloodshot and roused with deep purple bruises. Even my hair has lost its shine.

Frankie's expression is morbid. In his eyes I see shock, but also pity. We ride the elevator to the twelfth floor; and with a jerk, Bennie releases me from the handcuffs. With a swoosh the elevator doors open and I stumble out, buckling to my knees. I kneel, for a long moment drenched in the darkness behind my eyelids. My heart thumps heavily beneath my chest. For the life of me I wish a quick and painless death but the odds are not in my favour.

A shuffling of feet alerts me. Peering up, I'm amazed at who gazes back. Portia and Effie rise from the couch; their teary faces plastered with shock. Gasping, together they scamper across the living room and jump into my arms. I embrace them tightly, drawn to their warmth like a moth to a flame. I'd long forgotten the comfort of human closeness. I'm cemented in their embrace; the numbness melting away by the minute.

"Oh Peeta..." Effie whispers, her nose in the nook of my collarbone. Her voice drained of all hope and happiness. A lump rises in my throat.

"I know..." Is all I can muster before tears stain my eyes. I brush Effie's hair under my palm and kiss Portia's forehead. "I know..." Even in the deepest recesses of their minds, Portia and Effie could not fathom the horrors that arose from the darkness of the Chamber.

"Let's get you cleaned up." Portia says. With their combined strengths, Portia and Effie lift me off my knees.

But a sharp pain shoots up my spine and I buckle slightly, wincing through gritted teeth. Together, we inch our way down the corridor and with each step my muscles ache, as if every nerve in my body was being electrocuted. I'm a marionette, bending to their every command. In the bedroom, my eyes fall on the bed and I yawn. Nights of peaceful slumber seem an exotic luxury. Effie leans me against the bathroom door as Portia shuffles into the near dark.

A light switches on, illuminating the small space. Portia paces the 6 foot by 6 foot bathroom, pulling bath salts from the cabinet and spreading towels on the floor. Portia takes my hand, helping Effie perch me on the toilet seat. Portia fills the tub, adding foams and moisturisers while Effie kicks off her heels and kneels, untying my shoe laces. Like a wounded animal, I feel unavailing and unable to fend for myself. Although they don't seem to mind.

She sets my shoes to the side and tosses the socks in the wicker basket behind her. Lingering over me, Portia lifts my arms above my head as Effie peels the shirt, splattered in droplets of blood and saturated with cold sweat. Their hands are cautious, hesitant as if each brush against my skin may curdle a bruise or break a bone. In shock and awe, their eyes roam my torso, gazing at the electric burns on my chest and the deep maroon claw marks engraved into my forearms. The scars tracing my skin are reminders of the fights with the vicious demon inside me. What have they done to you? Portia's eyes whimper, brimming with tears.