A day before the Jabberjay attack on Katniss and Finnick at the Gamemaker's center...

Primrose Everdean was dragged into a large, white room by two Peacekeepers holding her under the arms. Their grip was so tight, Prim could barley even move without feeling a stab of pain from their strong hands. Her heels skidded against the tile in rebellion.

"You'll never get me to talk!" Prim shrieked up to the balcony, feigning the courage she really didn't have. "Never!"

A distant chuckle came from above her. She looked up and saw Pultarch Heavensbee looming on an observation deck. "Oh, how naive of you, Primrose. We don't need information. See, what we need is your screams."

Noticing her gulp in anxiety, he awkwardly said, "Oh, I guess that wasn't the best phrase to comfort you."

Without delay, the Peacekeepers shoved Prim down into a chair in the center of the room and tied restraints around her chest, wrists, and ankles. Her heart rate gaining speed, she thrashed around in her seat to no avail.

It was useless. She was trapped at the mercy of the Gamemaker's twisted minds.

"Okay," Pultarch called out to her, "don't worry, young Primrose. This will only bring unbearable mental pain." Once again, he made a major error at reassurance, and silently scolded himself for it.

Then, Pultarch extracted a remote from his pocket and pressed a button.

A cacophony of noise screeched into Prim's ears. It vibrated off the walls until it condensed to a popping beat. Suddenly, a high, nasally, auto-tuned voice began to sing into the room.

"Staring out my window, I brush my hair. Getting dressed to meet my friends, but I don't know what to wear!

Commercial shows on my T.V. about these cool designer jeans, that I put on, at the mall, change the channel, and what do I see?"

At this point in the song, Prim's breathing became labored. Her chest rose and feel, panting, rapidly drawing air, quickly to be released.

No screams yet. The appalling tune rang on.

"Hannah Montana's wearing my jeans. Ashley Tisdale's wearing my jeans. Keke Palmer's wearing my jeans. I just can't believe they wore those jeans like me!"

Without a word, Prim fainted. Judging by her closed eyes and her head lolling on her shoulder, Pultarch turned off the music.

"Mr. Heavensbee," his assistant asked, "Would you like to bring in another adoration of Katniss?"

Pultarch thought about the option for a while. Finally, shaking his head, he said, "No. I have a better idea. Just fill the Jabberjays with some other revolting tunes. We'll get a good response out of those..."