Peeta
"WHAT IS THIS?" I hear a roar.
"Oenothera Rue Mellark, sir," a quieter voice answers.
Everything is black, yet I know where I am. The smell of white roses and chemicals fill the air.
"I know who she is, I want to know WHAT SHE IS DOING IN THE CAPITOL WHEN I DISTINCTLY REQUESTED KATNISS EVERDEEN."
"Techincally, sir, you requested that Katniss Everdeen be killed." The quieter voice has an edge to it, and even though I am watching this scene blindly, I can tell that they know speaking out of turn has been mistake. There is a silence, then a whizzing sound of an arrow, bullet or blade, and then a thump.
"Discard the body."
Suddenly I blink and the room comes into focus. I can feel clamps on my arms, holding me upright and backed against a wall, like a robot that is not in use. I am in the laboratory in which I was tranquilized and then injected with the controlling formulation. The President, the new one, is standing in the center of the room, surrounded by men in white coats who are all looking at a figure on a metal table. A man in a white coat, limp, is dragged from the room. His last word was 'killed'. It's ironic.
The President, immaculate in his dark suit with a white rose pinned on, folds his hands behind his back and begins to stride around the table. It is then I see her - my daughter. Oeno. She sit on the edge of the table, not held down by any force, a plain expression on her face. She is pale, but not scared. She is rigid, determined. Like her mother.
"And what now are we supposed to do with this?" the President's nose scrunches up as if the little girl is nothing but a pile of waste waiting to be discarded of. A hand in the crowd of men in white coats shoots up.
"May I suggest leverage, sir?" the man says. Hopefully he will not suffer the same fate as his collegue. The President stops, whipping his head toward the speaker, his eyes piercing. He is most definietly a descendant of Snow - malice seethes from every pore.
"Leverage? We HAVE leverage!" his hand gestures violently towards me. "We have her husband!"
"Yes, sir, but doesn't our research show, and prove, that her kids being taken by... us... is her worst nightmare?"
Research? They have researched us? Worse yet, they know everything about us, including my wife's deepest fear and secret.
He paces again for a moment, looking bothered. Then, the President stops, his back to the crowd. Slowly, he turns and smiles. The malice is magnified now by the great idea he has just formed in his head. I guess what it is before he says it, and my heart sinks further than my toes. "Who's in the mood for another Hunger Games, boys?"
YOU ARE READING
The Hunger Games: Book Four - How it Might Have Been ... Gale.
FanfictionThe end of the Hunger Games - abrupt, unsatisfying, mysterious? Gale Hawthorne was forgotten after the Rebellion ceased - now he is back to tell his tale. Living alone in District 2, Gale still feels as though something is missing in his life - her...
