Hijacked (Peeta Mellark Fanfiction)

Chapter 5 - Interrogation

Isolation.

The thing is, I'm alone, but at the same time I'm not.

While slouched in a corner of my prison, I had stared at the ceiling for who knows how long. I had examined it long enough to see through some of the darkness to notice something different. The ceiling of my cell wasn't sealed with brick like the walls, but was covered with the same patterned bars as the door. I can see the pitch-black ceiling through the open diamonds.

Hearing the devastating screams of the other prisoners wasn't unintended. They created this place to be as much of a living hell as they can, for every person trapped in here. They wanted each scream to be heard by everyone, for it to echo off of the walls and the ceiling and into the ears of all the other prisoners who weren't screaming themselves. For every person to absorb not only their own helplessness, but others as well.

Johanna's giant torturer never came back, but there was a different peacekeeper that came on what I assumed was the next day. He'd come after I finally crawled to the corner and stared at the ceiling for hours, with the bruises of the previous visit still swollen up and aching.

He came in, announcing that it was "Answer Hour" and barely even asked any questions. He just asked me a couple ones like, "What were they planning before the Quarter Quell?" or "What did you know about District 13?"
I'd answered honestly, and it wasn't enough.

I didn't know anything about the rebellion, and if I wanted to lie, I'd have to basically say that Katniss is guilty. I still trust her, whatever she does, she does for a good purpose, she always has. She's always been a good-hearted person. Even if it meant leaving me behind, but maybe she hadn't intended for me to be left behind. That's what I believe.

What I believe and said apparently didn't matter. Like the previous torturer, he was a giant, but unlike the other guy, he had a helmet on, so I couldn't see his face.

He enjoyed himself as he threw me around like I was a rag doll. He'd swing me right into the hard brick wall. Red spots formed on my pure white uniform after I used it in attempt to stop the sprouting blood from my nose.

I'd crawl away as fast as I could, but he would always catch me. The pain in my back increased, and bruises formed on the limbs that hit the brick wall then slammed onto the cement floor with a screaming accusation that I'm lying. Nothing prepares me for the pricks of fear that come when he stomps over to lift me over his head for another hard, painful slam.

The agonizing minutes passed, I became dizzier, slower, and weaker. Black spots prickle my vision. There was no way I can escape, I'm trapped. There's no way to run, no path of care and safety to turn on. Thoughts of refuge and hopes of protection are knocked out of my brain each time my body hits the floor. The dizziness had gotten so severe that assuredly I had finally blacked out.

-

Blinking my eyes open, I can feel cold metal through the thin fabric of my clothes and on the bare skin on my wrists. I look around alertedly through the dull light. The first things I notice are the long cords descending from my temples, where I can feel tiny needles piercing into the skin there. The small rubber cords fall down past my shoulders to the sides of the chair, into the dark unknown.

Smooth metal chains are wrapped around my arms, ankles, and neck. They are connected to this iron chair I am seated in. I strain my arms against them, but it doesn't work, they are tight against my bony wrists, I can't move at all. Where am I? Is this my execution chamber?

The room is dark and silent, but I can feel the presence of other humans around me somehow. The only thing I can really see is a dim spotlight of the wall in front of me, where what looks like a fancy projector screen, hangs.
Finally a human steps into view, it's the peacekeeper Tamora, with her peacekeeper uniform and her dark hair pulled back tightly like before.