Hijacked

Chapter 11

The next morning, I’m sent back down to styling for this evening’s broadcast. Every step, every slight movement, is utter agony. The world blurs if I move too quickly and I almost expect it when the ground shifts and heaves, which happens at least twice at day. It’s the hunger, making me dizzy, but I’m getting used to the gnawing in my stomach that’s devouring me from the inside out. Today, I’m dressed in a black shirt and a white blazer and trousers. My face is made-up to make me look, you know, not on the verge of dying. I don’t know why they’re bothering, because no amount of makeup, no style of hair or clothes, can hide the real me; the pain, the terror, the illness, the sadness.

I am taken upstairs to a new room today. It’s more modern than yesterday’s studio. This one is completely white, with a tiled floor and hard white chairs. But quite a different host is with me tonight.

“Peeta, it’s good to see you.” Snow sneers. “You’re looking well.”

Hmph, that’s a low blow when I know he’s the one torturing me.

“Thank you.” I reply, through gritted teeth.

I sink down into my chair, and Snow takes his place next to me. The countdown starts and suddenly –

“Action!”

“Greetings, citizens of Panem. Tonight I have with me Mr Peeta Mellark, who has a few words.” Snow introduces.

My prosthetic foot taps out a random, irregular beat on the metal bar of my stool. I can feel sweat trickling down my forehead and the back of my neck. I take a deep breath and start to speak.

“We need a ceasefire. There’s so much damage being done to the infrastructure of the districts.” I say, reading off of the cue cards being held up behind the camera. “A broken dam in District 7, a derailed train, whose tank cars are leaking toxic waste, a granary collapsing as a result of a fire. As a result of the rebels. And-“

Suddenly, a man behind a computer yells.

“Hey!” We’ve been cut off!”

Snow pulls me to my feet and drags me from the room.

“You,” he growls, grabbing my collar. “Listen. Stop tapping your foot, stop wringing your hands. Get your act together, Mr Mellark. Think about how we need to stop Katniss and the other rebels.”

I cringe at Katniss’s name, my chest tightening in fury. Snow lets go of my collar and shoves me towards the door.

“Now come on. Let’s get back in there.”

“We’re back!” the man at the computer calls and Snow and I make our way back to our seats.

The crew are shouting, furious and confused because of some unforeseen technical difficulty. It’s a total mess on set.

“What’s happening?”

“I keep getting cut off!”

“It’s the rebels, they’re interrupting the broadcast!”

Snow coughs.

“Obviously, the rebels will go to extreme lengths to disrupt the broadcasting of information that shows them in a bad light. But truth and justice will reign. When security has been restored, this broadcast will continue as normal.”

He turns to me.

“Any parting thought for Miss Everdeen, given tonight’s demonstrations?”

I swallow hard, trying to keep my hands from shaking. There are no cue cards, as the person who was holding them is now preoccupied, attempting to help restore the connection.

“Katniss,” I say, and her name makes my face crease in anger. “How do you think this will end? What will be left? No one is safe. Not the Capitol, not the districts. And you, in thirteen!” I can’t breathe and my voice is rising to an angered yell. The walls seem to be closing in and I’m gasping for air.

“Dead by the morning!” I yell.

“End it.” Snow orders angrily.

He stands up, looming ominously over me.

“I-I…” I gulp.

Snow pushes the camera to the floor and comes over to me, his boots squeaking on the tiled floor. He swings at me, and hits me straight in the mouth, so hard I’m momentarily stunned. Then he storms off, leaving me on my hands and knees, gagging, coughing blood, and fighting for breath. My blood splatters the tiles and I see it trickle into view of the camera, knocked to the floor, but still recording.

Disclaimer: Some of the text in this book will be from Mockingjay. As I am writing the book in Peeta's point of view, I wanted to make it as accurate and authentic as possible. So yes, some of this is Suzanne Collins' dialogue, but it has been reworked in the point of view of Peeta Mellark. xxx