Animal

Sad Song

For a week after Mr. Anderson had come to get me, I was locked in a dark, icy, cold room in the Training Center, no food and no water. It was torture, the alone time was torture, everything else I could have handled. The time I was left to wallow in my own thoughts was pure hell. I heard voices in there. The voices of the people I killed. April's voice...Oliver's... After awhile, by day 4, no one was saying anything nice.

My body still shakes, even now as I recover in the medical wing. Ms. Adams sits in the chair next to the bed like she had before. A part of me is just happy I have company now and that the voices are quiet.

"What are the two questions you must never answer in an interview?" Ms. Adams asks.

I stare ahead of me. I lick my lips.

"No questions about training techniques and..." I try remembering what the woman had said. She had been reading off rules too me and reminding me of what I can and cannot do. My sleep and nutrient deprived mind wasn't picking up any of it.

I wince sharply as Ms. Adam presses her cane deep into my side. I growl at her and lunge, but the restraints keep my weakened body still. Ms. Adams presses the cane harder into my ribs.

"We just went over this, Scrappy." She sighs. "You're going have to start taking this more seriously, Miss Armstrong, which is why I plan on molding you into the perfect Fighter. No matter what. And you will not embarrass Mr. Anderson again." She says, removing the cane much to my relief. "Now, you also may never share any negative feelings towards Mr. Anderson."

Oh, all I have is negative feelings, I think, whatever shall I say? I flop my head back into the pillow and smirk.

"What's so funny, Scrappy?" She asks calmly. She taps her cane on the ground three times.

I eye it, but don't say anything.

I see it coming, but I'm trapped on the bed. I suck in a breath as the cane digs into my side again. "Its rude not to answer a question when you're asked, Miss. Armstrong." She chides.

"I'm... going to kill you." I whisper through the pain. She presses harder and I gasp, claws digging into my palms.

"Now, come on," she sighs, "are we really going to regress?"

I try leaning away from the cane, but it only follows me. "I... didn't say anything... because it wasn't nice. I... thought you said not to say anything if I don't have something nice to say?" I cut my eyes too her.

She removes the cane and I can breathe easy again. "No, I said, if you don't have anything nice to say... make something nice up. Being a popular Fighter, Scrappy, is more then about being a skilled in the technical sense. Its about making people like you. Some already like you because your pretty, and people like pretty stuff but... that can only carry you so far. You have to say all of the right things to the right people. Do you understand?" I nod, because she wants me too, and I don't want that damn stick back in my ribs. "Now... let me see you smile, Scrappy." She demonstrates by giving me one of her pleasant smiles. "You have to have the perfect smile for each occasion. Come on, show me..."

I force my lips to pull upwards into what is a good enough smile for this insane woman. Its not. My bruised ribs scream in pain, I feel something crack.

"You can do better than that." She encourages. I bite my lip. Oh, what I wouldn't do to be able to stick that stupid cane down her throat. The thought brings a smile to my face. "That's good," she says. "What are you thinking?"

"Just about how much I appreciate you helping me with all of this." I lie. The cane leaves my side, I swallow and struggle to breathe.

"Not bad, Scrappy," she says, "but you can do better."