A few days later and my room is full of paintings. From tiny, tile-sized dandelions to my biggest picture yet; a huge canvas with Katniss on, smiling. Another two portraits of her are resting on my bedside table, drying. I sit on my bed, a cup of hot chocolate in one hand, the hard copy of Oliver Twist from the room down the hall, in the other. Soon it gets dark so I decide I’d better get to sleep. Just as I’m about to turn the light out, I hear a voice.
“Peeta.”
I’m used to this voice now. It’s the person who monitors me via the surveillance camera in my room, a woman I suppose, by the way the voice sounds.
“Yes?” I reply
“Why are there so many paintings of Miss Everdeen?”
I shrug
“I don’t know. I like painting her, and I love her.”
“Okay. The president would like to see you tomorrow.”
“But he said a week just a few days ago.”
“He changed his mind.”
“Why?”
“It doesn’t matter why. Please don’t argue.”
“Sorry.” I apologise
“And it would be easier all round if you just stopped painting Miss Everdeen.”
“Why?”
The voice sighs
“Goodnight, Peeta.” She says, not answering my question.
Why does Snow want to see me? Why won’t the camera-lady answer my question? Why should I stop painting Katniss?
I wake the next day and get dressed. Rita comes in with my breakfast and I eat as she walks around the room, looking at my paintings. She bends down by the dandelion and mimes picking it, blowing its fluffy head. She smiles and giggles silently while I laugh.
“Thank you, Rita.” I say and she leaves.
She looks back over her shoulder and grins as she closes the door behind her.
I finish my meal and go to the bathroom to get ready. Around ten o’clock the message comes.
“President Snow will see you now. Your door is unlocked.”
“Okay, thank you.” I reply and go downstairs.
“Peeta, good morning.” Snow purrs
“Good morning.” I repeat
“How has your stay been?” he asks, as he did last time.
Once again, I reply, “Good, thank you.”
“Did you like your art supplies?” Snow asks
“Very much so, thank you.” I say honestly
“You’re welcome. But I hear you’ve been painting Miss Everdeen rather a lot.”
I nod.
“Well, maybe it’s best not to. She’s a rebel.” Snow tells me
“I know she is. I don’t mind. I’m as much to blame.”
Snow sighs
“Never mind. Now, in the arena did you notice that other victors went out of their way to protect you?”
I nod “Of course.”
“Do you know why?”
“Because I’m a voice?”
Snow nods
“Yes.” He agrees “You are.”
YOU ARE READING
Hijacked
FanfictionPeeta Mellark's point of view of his time in the Capitol. I hope you enjoy this. Based on The Hunger Games trilogy by Suzanne Collins. I do not own the characters, story, etc.
