(Author's Note) Ok, I know the first thing I will hear is that this is a little out of character and driven a bit too much by hate and not enough by fear. So, *when* you review this, please know that I am aware of this fact. I couldn't think of Peeta as being locked up and simply terrified to death, there had to be a little anger in him somewhere, right? Thank you and enjoy - more to come sooner or later!
I could feel the stinging pains from the shackles on my wrists. I had lunged at them many times trying to escape my sterile, lonely prison. They thought they could lock me up and leave me with only my fear? Well they were wrong. I could handle myself; I could and would seek justice on those who wronged me. Katniss. The mere name sent my veins to pulsing; I could sense it without looking. She drugged me. Abandoned me. Deceived me. She must not be trusted with anything. I am not safe while she still breathes. I sit up and examine my fettered arms and legs. I had come so close to extinguishing the Girl on Fire. This failure only served to complicate the situation. Now she didn't trust me, either. Katniss would still receive what she was owed; I was sure of it.
These are the thoughts I entertained myself with whenever the visions paused their haunting of me. They were memories so vivid and bright they blocked out any other. As each one resurfaced in my mind, I became more infuriated against my fellow tribute from District Twelve; my fiancé.
I didn't have many visitors during those days. It was as if they were attempting to starve me of companionship. I laughed at the notion.
Delly Cartwright came to see me once in a while. Cheerful, patient, innocent Delly; everyone's friend. We talked of home and neighbors we'd left behind. She asked me about my work in the bakery and was engrossed in my dullest story. I questioned her about what life was like now beyond my immaculate cell walls and she giggled through half-hearted complaints of the rigidity with which District Thirteen was run. It appears I wasn't the only one given pathetic meal rations.
Delly was the only soul I could come close to trusting then. She was the only one who treated me like nothing had ever changed. She ignored my restraints and wove our conversations along so easily, so naturally.
One morning I awoke from a fitful sleep to see Delly sitting beside me, her bright face concerned.
"Bad dream?" She asked quietly. I stiffened as she spoke. De ja vu was sweeping over me, as if I had heard what she just said spoken with the same soft tone and vocal inflection before. My thoughts were tumbling quickly. No, I had said it before; to Katniss back when I believed she was being honest with me. Ignoring Delly as she jumped from her chair and tried to calm me, I jerked upright in my bed and screamed at the security camera. "I know you're out there! You will not escape me, Katniss!" I continued my ranting, but suddenly everything was in a haze as a doctor ran into the small room and swiftly jabbed a fine tipped needle into my upper arm. I blacked out moments later. My dreams while I took my drugged nap were wildly paced and as life like as they had ever been. I was in the water arena, from the seventy-fifth Hunger Games. The Jabberjays were calling in whispers now, not screams. Watch out for yourself Peeta, Peeta, she's coming for you, hurry, hurry, she's armed and ready to kill. I spun around to catch an arrow in my chest, pain ripping through me like fire. As I fell back, I caught sight of her perched high in the trees, a smirk tugging at her face. "Think fast, bread boy!" she snickered. I had no sooner crashed to the forest floor in that scenario then I was in the cave from the previous year's Games. Katniss was trying to convince me I should eat, fooling me into thinking she actually cared. Smiling, she offers me a handful of berries and I accept them, a stupid grin plastered on my face. Moments later, I'm writhing on the dirt floor and she sits off to the side, gloating. "Those were Nightlock, you idiot!"
After several more torturous journeys, I finally awake to the hospital room. I instantly realize I'm no longer tied down to my bed, so I slide over the edge to stand my single bare foot and my other mechanical one on the sleek, cool tile floor. The door creaks open and she walks in. Leaving no time to hear any more lies, I pin her to the nearest wall and grip my angry hands around the throat from which too many taunts had come. She struggles, but has no chance against me since I have taken her by such surprise. As she gasps for air, I don't shout out her unpaid treasons that led me to this action. Stoic killers seem more polished, two rounds in the Hunger Games taught me that at least. I am satisfied in finally seeing terror take over the wretched face that hides true emotion from me with a mask of falsehood. Her body slumps limp and I let her sink to the floor, brushing my hand over her face to close forever those bewitching eyes.
My victory is over too soon as Gale storms in, brandishing his hunting knife. I know it's over now, but I'm finally at peace. "Your cousin is dead," I address him coolly. As he drives his weapon home, I flash a grand smile at him.
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