*Peeta's POV*
'Katniss!'
'KATNISS!!!' The urgency in my voice asserts itself even more strongly; as I yell again and again. Whatever happens, I cannot leave without knowing where she is. How she is. 'Please! Just don't, for a second!! Katniss!!! Where are you?' My throat is hoarse, craving for some water- rough and eroded with bile that makes me sick and nervous and jittery at the same time. He pulls and tugs my arm; and ends up doing it so viciously that the sleeve of my upper arm comes tearing away. I should know better than to plead with these heartless wretches. But before I can yell out her name again, just to make sure she's alive and breathing, just to die with the knowledge that she's alright, just to understand why-'
I shudder again and persist, at which another pair of incredibly strong arms lifts me up, bodily. I am yelling, screaming my head off, as sweat and blood trickles down my face and into my eyes.
'Where's she? Katniss! Finnick!!!' Someone clamps a black gloved hand on my hand, and shakes me so ruthlessly I feel like my limbs have come out of their sockets. My heart's pounding, my legs are resisting, my arms are trying to tug and twist out of the vice-like grip they have on me. The adrenaline coursing in my veins won't let me give up- I have to know whether she is alright. I can't give up till then. I try to kick one of them in the shins, try to jostle and shove my elbow into someone's face, but it's all fruitless- they pull me face down, struggling, across the forest floor. Littered with twigs and dry leaves that scar my face, making me bleed even more.
Surely the broadcasts have stopped. For what is happening now is beyond my wildest nightmares.
'KATNISS!!!!' It is a wild, animal cry, a last attempt to realize her whereabouts, to convince myself she's safe somewhere. I never hear her voice responding. Instead, I hear a mockingjay sing a tune-strangely, it's a melody I've heard. I can't really remember. My eyes roll back and flicker, threatening to pull me down into unconsciousness, but I have to keep awake. For her. I alternate between keeping an eye on my surroundings and trying to close them from preventing sharp sticks rub into them. I mutter her name without realizing it as I'm dragged across the forest floor to a hovercraft parked nearby. The sound emanating is deafening- it brings me back to my senses. And then I'm screaming again, my limbs flailing, looking for anything to hit them with, my mind unable to process what is happening. But they're much quicker. The last sight I see, before I black out, is the same black gloved hand. An injection materialising out of nowhere. A sharp sting in my neck, and my outstretched arms fall slack. 'Lover boy's got a better, bigger dose coming up' he says, a few seconds before I lose consciousness, I lose the sole reason I live life for. I failed to keep her safe.
I failed. And now she's gone.
__________________________
*Portia's POV*
I'm poring over sheafs of new dress designs; trying to find any flaws that might materialise when these dresses actually come to life; for I have to make sure everything is picture-perfect for this gala event that my supervisor has trusted me with. I'm ticking off a mental list I've made for the night; and am startled when someone knocks on the door.
It's my uncle. 'Julian! What brings you at such a late hour?' I bustle him in and set the tea I made for myself in front of him.
'Portia..it's..' Julian shakes his head wearily, and refuses to meet my eyes. Under the harsh artificial light, I notice how frail he looks, and the way his tiredness seeps into me.
'Julian..what happened? You don't look particularly happy..is there possibly anything I could do to help?'
He shakes his head again, and pushes the tea towards me. 'You might need that more, Portia. I've seen terrible things happen today.'
