The Little Mockingjay

Waves

Song: Waves by Young the Giant

I sigh as I hug my knees to my chest and sharply inhale as a distinct pain from one of my wounds slices through my body. Even after the water torture, I'm not sorry for watching the videos. I deserved to know what happened to my parents. And even now that I know the truth, as horrible as it is, I don't wish to go back to being ignorant about my parents' history. I have my answers, so I don't plan on finding out what's in the other numbered doors. I will be complacent from now on. I will do what I'm told, I always have. I've never been the rebellious type; I've never been one to fight back. I guess that's strange considering what I now know about my parents, but I guess Flint got that all that fiery temper and I got none. I consider my options as I sit in my cell, fighting the pain from my probably-infected wounds. My thought process is as such.

I don't know where I am.

I don't know how to get out.

I wouldn't know where to go if I did get out.

I've already learned that if I'm not obedient to orders, I'll pay.

I don't want to be tortured again.

If I do what I'm told, maybe they'll let Flint and I go.

That's all I want, is to get out of here and get back to my parents. I want my normal, boring life back, but I don't think that's an option anymore. However, I do have one option. I'll do what I'm told for as long as it takes to keep Flint and myself alive. I'm choosing to believe what I'm told, even if I have my doubts about the information I'm being fed. My parents did the opposite, and look what it got them, a life full of constant pain and hurt. I guess everyone thought that watching the tapes would give me ideas of rebellion, that I would want to be like my mom. But no, I want to be the opposite. I don't want to question what The Captain is telling me and I don't want to disobey orders. I know that I might be taking the easy way out, but I don't care. I want to live and I want Flint to live and I want to see my parents again. Because if there's one thing I care about, it's my family. I miss my parents and my home so much. I wish I had my sketchpad or my iPod. I pull my legs even closer to my chest and dig my nails into one of my cuts to keep from crying because of my situation. I can't cry. That'll only make it worse. I start to hum the lullaby that my mom used to sing to me.

"Deep in the meadow, under the willow. A bed of grass, a soft green pillow."

I hear loud footsteps echoing down the hallways and I immediately shut up and jump to my feet. I know it isn't Gale. He rounds the corner, jams a key into the lock that keeps my cell closed, and throws open the door.

My back straightens as my weight shifts to the balls of my feet in defense when The Captain barks,

"Walk, we're filming the first ad today."

I immediately follow him out of the room with the cells and back into the main corridor. The atmosphere is noticeably warmer and I stop shivering so much. But one quick shudder shoots through my body out of fear. I know some of these rooms contain different torture devices. Thankfully, he walks through the door with the stairwell. I follow him up at a safe distance and we finally arrive at our destination. It's the room I would have been sleeping in if I hadn't let my curiosity get the best of me. I still don't regret watching the tapes, though. The bathroom door is open, revealing a huge vanity complete with a lighted mirror and a tub the size of a small swimming pool. Two women are busying themselves at a table with what seems to be numerous personal hygiene products. The captain shoves me forward towards the bathroom and puts one foot out the door before saying,

"Cooperate tonight. Do what you're told. Make the ad as planned and you'll be back sleeping comfortably in here with three meals a day."

He doesn't even let me reply before walking out and slamming the door aggressively. I quickly scan the room for Flint, but of course, he isn't here. I turn my head back towards the bathroom and slowly walk towards the women, both of whom are smiling slightly at me. I stand in front of them for a few seconds and no one speaks. Finally, I manage to mumble a greeting, but they still don't reply. On of the women holds a finger to her lips.