𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 ❦ The Hunger Games Sequel

eight

☆ CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE! ☆
033. the importance of words

||THNKS FR TH MMRS ||
❝Been looking forward
to the future, but my
eyesight is going
bad, in this crystal
ball. It's always
cloudy.❞

➳➳

THERE WAS A door in the compound that was never opened.

It was exactly like the others, with no handle in sight to those that only looked for something in the most obvious places, and no easy way to distinguish it from the rest. It didn't have any marks in it's smooth white finish- there wasn't a creak or shadow underneath the sliver of space left between the metal and the floor that would hint that anyone was behind it. When somebody passed by, nothing screamed out or made a sound.

It was just another door.

But even when there was nothing that jumped out to explain why it was special, a few (specifically chosen) people knew that it wasn't just like any other door that was never opened. It could never of been just a room at the end of a corridor moments away from where the prisoners were held, with no point of even existing, and it wouldn't just become yet another door that was left to turn into wall.

It couldn't be when the corridor that door was in had been named Pandora's box- the only object that should of been avoided at all costs. It was guarded like it would let loose the worse terror the world had ever seen, and yet when the time came to switch out the Peacekeeper that got to stand there, nobody took the uneasy steps the entire Captiol has come to expect from a guard that wasn't entirely sure if it was really in control.

In particular there was one Peacekeeper that guarded the room the most. He was around 6 foot tall and could be identified by the stripe that went down the side of his armour and the plastic-like gun he held, but none of that was what made him different from the other two that walked up and down the hall. He walked the same- without a stumble or shuffle of a foot- and in the end he didn't wait around to leave somewhere that had become isolated from the rest of the building. He left in a hurry, but perhaps that was because he had a reason to get out as quickly as he could.

Maybe, it was because each time that Peacekeeper was left alone in the corridor that looked just like any other, he used the door like there wasn't a world full of monsters behind it.

But it was just a door, and when that Peacekeeper went through it there was nothing that told him he shouldn't have.

The world didn't end- no monster was let out of it's home to face the wrath of the President's unfair plans and win against them. Not a single petal from the bouquet of roses left by the mantelpiece fell from its' stem as the wind from the open window pulsed into the heated hallway he came from. The subject within didn't even turn their head towards the noise, from their white desk filled with pens and paper (filled with all the colours the Peacekeeper could imagine) their eyes didn't move an inch.