"Isn't it lovely. All alone.
Heart made of glass. My mind of stone.
Tear me to pieces. Skin to bone."
━━━━━━ ⋆⋅ ➹ ⋅⋆ ━━━━━━
BOOK 1 - Indiana Summers is the niece to two Victors and the sweetheart of the Capitol but now she'd been dropped into the...
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┏━━━━━━ ⋆⋅ ➹ ⋅⋆ ━━━━━━┓ 'Sometimes I feel dead. I see my life wasted all away. Sometimes I feel like a failure. Or am I just fed up.' ┗━━━━━━⋆⋅➹⋅⋆━━━━━━┛
Coldness of the metal bars of her cage seeped through Indiana's clammy skin and was a much-welcomed kindness after the torture she had just experienced. Her blood was boiling with hatred but she lacked the energy to do much more other than glare pathetically at the cold, white tile of her floor.
"You okay, kid?" Enobaria called out from her own prison across from Indiana's.
A quiet grunt was all she received as a response. It was hard for her to find the energy to reassure the older woman when Enobaria was never tortured and had no clue what the pain felt like. That was most likely due to the fact that she hadn't attempted to cheat the Games. She had tried winning it fair and square – through death and murder.
However, Indiana couldn't feel too resentful towards the woman as she had grown up knowing her, and Enobaria was always kind enough to ensure she was doing okay when she was returned to her cell. Indiana supposed it was an attempt to look out for the younger girl as best as she could, in order to honour her aunt and uncle (Enobaria's friends).
Because they were dead.
So many people were dead.
All because Katniss had been naïve enough to believe she could escape the Hunger Games with the boy she had pretended to love.
Unexpected warmth touched the blonde's hand and she glanced down to see that Peeta had linked his hand with hers. Since their imprisonment, the teenagers had become quite close due to the fact that their cells were joined. Captivity brought people together in the strangest of ways. Whilst it had taken her some time, Indiana had eventually given the kind, empathetic boy for killing her. Peeta didn't say anything to comfort the blonde girl but he never needed to. The tight grip on her hand was enough to anchor her to reality. And, she was probably too lost in her own thoughts to hear anything he had to say.
Where was Cato?
Was he dead?
Did he somehow manage to escape?
Indiana's mind was a hurricane of thought and she prayed – though no Gods ever answered – that her fiancé was somewhere safe with Katniss and Finnick, and not lying in the ruins of an arena with the crows plucking out her eyes. She even worried whether or not Beetee had made it out of the wreckage.
Johanna usually occupied the cell on Indiana's left but at the moment it was empty. Every time Johanna returned, she was still convulsing from whatever sick torture had been inflicted upon her. The captives never discussed what happened to them but they knew it was tailored to their specific fears. At night, the horrors resurfaced and pained screams filled the prison room.
Annie Cresta's was the worst. They never tortured her because they knew being trapped in her own mind was pain enough, and so was being forced to endure the screams of other people. President Snow had only imprisoned her in an attempt to draw Finnick Odair out of hiding and towards the Capitol.
The prisoners were in hell on Earth but never spoke about what they knew. It helped that the majority of them knew nothing about the rebellion. Instead, they endured their pain and waited for their rescue.
They were resilient.
They were hopeful.
They were foolish.
┏━━━━━━ ⋆⋅ ➹ ⋅⋆ ━━━━━━┓ 'Sometimes it just seems useless. Or am I that fucked up. I feel hopeless. I shut down.' ┗━━━━━━⋆⋅➹⋅⋆━━━━━━┛
