Mockingjay in Peeta's Point of View

Here we are again! This one took longer than usual, because it was rather difficult piecing together the few bits we get to know about Peeta's time in jail!

Thank you for those people who Beta Read this chapter for me, you were all a great help! :)

Warning: There is violence in this chapter.

Chapter One

The cells are dark and gloomy, with just a bed, a sink and a toilet. The doors are bars, so that our captors can always see us when they walk past our cells. It also makes it easier to talk to the person in the next cell, who is Johanna in my case. I haven't been in the cells long; they had been keeping me in our old twelfth floor in the Training Center for a few weeks. I think the choice of placement had been President Snow's idea. They'd kept me there up until the first Interview, wanting me clean and healthy. That Interview with Ceasar had just been the beginning; they'd been trying to get information out of me, find out what I knew about that last night in the arena. But I don't know what happened. I only know that Katniss and I got separated, that things had gotten confusing and I went in search of her, finding Chaff instead. Watching Chaff die at the hands of Brutus, and being so angry that I killed Brutus myself. Before the Interview, President Snow had taken me aside and told me I must do my best to make Katniss and her band of followers to stop their madness. I told him I would call for a ceasefire, if he promised to keep Katniss alive. After some arguing, he had finally agreed. Almost immediately after the Interview, I had been escorted down here, none too gently.

There are no windows, and I am certain that we are underground. No way to tell how long they've been keeping us captive. Johanna is worse off than me; she's been in the cells from the moment they had picked her up. The only use they have for Johanna is getting information from her, and now this is what they want from me. I had tried to get Johanna to tell me what had happened on that final night, because I'm sure she is more clued in than what I had been. She doesn't tell me anything, tells me it is for my own good. I don't understand this until I receive my first visitor.

He's a large, brutish man. I can't tell whether he is a Capitol citizen, because he doesn't look as extravagant as the majority of them. He beats me until my skin is a map of black and blue, asking me who had planned the attack, who was involved, how long has Katniss been planning it. At first, I shout at them that I don't know, but after some time I just curl in on myself and hope they don't hit a vital organ. After maybe ten or so of these visits, I start to think that maybe hitting a vital organ might not be so bad. Almost every time, President Snow is stood outside the cell, watching with a hard face and cold eyes. He orders in two more men, who are holding strange metal cylinders with two small prongs on one end. At first, I think they are going to stab me, but each time they press the prongs to my body, it sends a jolt of electricity straight through me.

"She left you Peeta, there is no use protecting her any more." I scream in a rage, unable to even form a word, and I lunge at the bars of the cell door. The electricity that shoots through my body sends me into a spasm until I start to feel unconsciousness take over. I wake up and know that I haven't been out for long, because the men are in the next cell. I try to sit up, but hiss at the pain that shoots through my ribs. I lay on the ground panting, forced to listen to Johanna's screams whilst they force her head into a bucket of water, and just when I think they are going to kill her, they pull her up again. Hearing Johanna's screams are worse than my own beatings.

They leave Johanna and disappear, leaving the corridor except for Johanna's ragged breath and the whimpering of a young woman in a cell further down. I manage to crawl across the floor, clinging to the bars that make up the door.

"Johanna," I whisper. I hear her shuffling across the stone ground to her own bars.

"How are you doing?" she mumbles, in obvious pain.

"Where is she, Johanna?" I ask quietly. She sighs.

"I can't say anything Peeta, you know I can't. Especially not here." I press my forehead against the cold bars and close my eyes, allowing Katniss' face to swim across my mind. It kills me to not know where she is, or if she is even safe.

"Did she leave me behind?" I ask in a whisper. She can't have done, I don't believe it … at least I don't think I do. It is President Snow, trying to poison my mind, planting these doubts in my head. Johanna doesn't answer for a long time, and I think she's going to ignore me. She's done it plenty of times since I've been down here, trying to get the answers from her.

"No," she finally says. I glance up and across, to where I think Johanna might be sitting, behind the wall. "The plan was to get everybody out, before the Capitol could react. But they must have been quicker than we anticipated." So in all likelihood, Katniss has been picked up by whoever cooked up the plan. I don't interrogate Johanna further, because I know that it will get us nowhere. Instead, I try to get some sleep.

When I wake, there's a lot of movement in the cell opposite mine. A few guards are moving stuff around, and bringing something in to the cell. I sit up, wincing at the pain in parts of my body, but managing to make it to my feet. I lean against the bars to peer around the guards, looking at what they're setting up. They've brought in a table and laid two odd machines on top of it, with trailing wires. In the middle of the cell there are two chairs side by side.

"Bring in the redheads," one guard says. I'm sure I know who he is talking about, but I don't want to be right. Darius and the other red headed girl had been our Avoxes. Another guard goes to cell on the other side of mine, and yanks open the cell door. I thought I had heard someone moving around in that cell, but couldn't be sure because nobody ever spoke. Now I know why. The guard drags Darius out into the cell opposite mine, dumping him into one of the chairs. Another guard drags the Avox girl down the corridor, making her sit in the second chair.

They hook up the wires to Darius and the girl in what seems like particular points on their body. They both look scared, uncertain what is happening. The small girl is wide-eyed, her gazing darting around her wildly, and settling on me. Something shifts in her eyes, as if she understands something that I do not.

"You're here because we believe you have information on the rebellion, and I have been informed that I must use any means necessary to get that information from you." One guard says, and my hand tightens around the bar I'm holding to. How can they get information from an Avox? Darius looks panicked, knowing that he cannot speak, and that's not really the reason the two of them are in the cell. The girl spits in the guard's face. "Her first," he snaps. There's a second guard stood by the machines, which are whirring to life with the press of a button. The turn of a knob, another button, and the Avox girl is suddenly taken by some kind of seizure, her body stiffening and trembling. Her eyes roll to the back of her head, and she makes a terrible animal sound. Her head falls back and she stops moving.

"Turn it off!" The first guard barks, but it is too late. "What voltage was that? No, that wasn't what I said!"

"Oh god," Johanna whispers, obviously at the front of her own cell. "Is she... is she dead?" I nod even though she can't see me, unable to take my eyes from the lifeless body, and wish I could so badly.

"Right, we'll just have to use him." The first guard says impatiently, waving towards Darius. "Make sure you turn the voltage down," he adds slowly. They don't want a quick death, they want to torture Darius. I turn away just before they start, not wanting to see it. It goes on for hours, electrocution, hard questions that he has no way of answering, beaten with fists and sticks whilst he moans and coughs up blood. I keep my eyes on the bare walls of my cell, the dirty floor, anywhere but into the cell opposite mine. I realise the reason for this is not just to torture Darius, but to torture me also. They want me to see this, to hear it, to think of nothing else.

The horror finally stops, and we all get our meal of some kind of blended slop. None of us waste the food; we only get one meal a day, and it would be stupid to allow ourselves to waste away at the sake of pride. I want to speak to Darius, to say something to him, but there is nothing that can possibly make him feel better, or cancel out the hours of agony he has just received for my sake.

When I wake again, it is to the sounds of pain from Darius' torture cell, sounds akin to a wounded animal. His face is a pattern of a bruises, his left eye swollen, a gash in his cheek, and his right hand missing. I have to rush across my cell to the small toilet, where I throw up and squeeze my eyes shut. On the end of his right arm is a bloody stump, still leaking blood. His hand has been left on the table. The floor of his cell slowly staining red. Down the corridor comes the shrieking of a girl in one of the cells, who I suspect to be Annie Cresta. I don't know if she is being tortured also, if she is reliving some nightmare, or if it is because of Darius' animalistic cries of pain. The Capitol must have picked up Annie from District Four because of her relationship with Finnick. It's even more sick because everyone knows that Annie is mad; she's no real threat, and no use. She's just bait.

I spend the next two days curled onto my bed with my hands clamped over my ears, trying to block out the sound of Darius' torture. I flood my mind with memories of home, of my family, of Katniss. I wonder what my family are doing, what they have been told by the Capitol, if they are safe. Would I have been told if my family had been killed? I try to think of only good things. After what must have been a few days, the corridor falls eerily silent. Slowly, I lift my hand and look around me, pulling myself back to reality. Only a few minutes ago, I had been trying to ignore Darius' screams, and now there is no sound.

"He's gone." A guard says, and I risk a look.

Darius is no longer recognisable. His shirt has been removed, but most of the skin is covered in blood or bruises, his face is swollen and battered. Chunks of his hair has been pulled out, and there are parts of his body missing. There's a lot of blood on the floor, and a terrible smell in the air. I don't throw up this time. The guards leave, and I panic, thinking they're just going to leave Darius sitting there, to torture me further. I sit in the corner behind my bed, blocking off the view of my cell door, too afraid to look. I know that the guilt will gnaw at me, it's already bouncing around my head. He's dead because of you, Peeta. He's been tortured for days just for you, to make you feel worse.

I tilt my head back and close my eyes tightly, attempting to ward off the poisonous thoughts. I fall asleep at some point, and awake feeling stiff, still sitting in the corner. I stretch my legs out in front of me, because my right leg is tingling from the lack of movement. The left leg is still metal. I finally get up, and let out a relieved sigh when I see that Darius is gone, and the cell has been washed out whilst I was asleep.

A few hours later, the men return to my cell, and beat me until I'm curled on the floor. This time, they avoid my face. They still shout out questions that I don't know the answers to. I'm grateful when they leave, hoping that President Snow will find something else to occupy his attention, and his guards. I feel weak, in both mind and body. I've certainly lost a lot of weight since I was plucked from the arena, and all that strength I had built up before the Games has disappeared.

The guards return the next day, but two of them wait outside the cell, whilst the other one comes in to drag me out. He leads me down the corridor by my arm, and I limp along beside him. I can't help but glance into each cell that we pass by. Johanna stares out at me, confused and with nothing to say. There are a few other people in the cells, who stare out through the bars but avoid looking me in the eyes. I was right about Annie; she's huddled in her cell, covered by only her bed sheet. For a brief moment, I wonder where her clothes are, and why the guards would possibly take them away, but a guard is pushing me forward.

He pushes me into the elevator. The light is intense, and I lift up an arm to shield my eyes, ignoring the throbbing pain from the movement. None of the guards say anything during the elevator ride, or when they lead me along another corridor, which is a lot brighter than the dreary corridor for our cells. They stop halfway down, and the wall parts to reveal a room behind it. Like the doors in the hospital wing, silent and hidden. My eyes dart around me, trying to make sense of what is happening. I'm too afraid to ask the guards, feeling that one misspoken word might result in a blow to my body.

The room is almost like a hospital room, except in the centre is a long chair, with straps that are no doubt to keep me down. I doubt I would even be able to fight my way out of one arm strap at this point.

"Sit down," a guard barks. I hesitate, wondering what horrors await me in that chair. They've already beaten me, electrocuted me, drowned me, and made me watch them kill another man; what else could they possibly do? When I don't respond, a hand pushes me forward, and I stumble a couple of steps before regaining my balance. I approach the chair, inspecting every inch that I can see, wondering what it might do to me. Perhaps it's some kind of special torture chair, or maybe where I die. I've no choice but to sit in it and allow the guards to strap in my arms and legs, and secure a final strap across my chest. I tug at the straps, glancing back and forth, but I'm trapped.

The door opens again, and a man in a white coat steps into the room. "Ah, Mr Mellark. We've got some special treatment arranged for you today," he says brightly.

"W-what kind of treatment?" I ask, watching him suspiciously. He opens a drawer, pulls out a clean syringe. Opens a cupboard, pulls out a beaker of liquid. I can't see what the label says from where I am. The man has his back to me, so I can't see what he's doing, although I suspect he's filling the syringe with whatever he plans to inject me with.

"I'm Doctor Tylion," he turns to face me, syringe in hand and an odd smile on his lips. He blinks, noticing the guards. "You may leave now. He's not going anywhere." Without argument, the three guards leave me alone with the Doctor, and I'm not sure whether I feel more safe or not. "Now Peeta, you and I are going to be spending some time together. Although how much time depends on how well you take to our treatment." That smile again, and I definitely don't feel safe.

"What treatment?" I ask again, but he doesn't seem to hear me.

"Tell me, you love this Katniss Everdeen?" He quirks an eyebrow at me. I glare at him and don't answer. He watches me carefully for a moment, and then shrugs. "Okay, not feeling talkative, that's okay." He walks towards me, the syringe still in his hand. Is he going to kill me? A lethal injection? No, that doesn't make sense. He says we'll be spending time together, the Capitol don't want to kill me, they've been keeping me alive. "We're going to make you forget about those feelings." A laugh suddenly barks from my lips, and the Doctor looks surprised. "Well, what's so funny Peeta?" He asks me.

"Don't you know anything about love, Doctor? You can't just make someone forget about that feeling. I am in love with Katniss, I will always be in love with Katniss, and you cannot change that." The doctor regards me for a moment, and then he sticks the syringe in my arm, pressing down the plunger so that the liquid disappears into my veins.

All he does is smile at me and say, "we'll see." I frown at him and back down at my arm, and then the dizziness sets in. The doctor does something, and a screen pops up in front of me. Katniss face is suddenly in front of me, and it's so sudden that I find myself straining against the straps, trying to reach for her.

It goes on for hours, and I get more delirious as they pass by, trying to make sense of what the doctor is showing me. There's lots of Katniss, but not the Katniss I know. When the guards drag me back to my cell, I'm confused and drained. Johanna is stood at the front of her cell, staring at me through a black eye. The guards practically throw me into my cell, and I wince and grit my teeth against the pain that shoots through my ribs. I curl up on my bed and hold my head, trying to make sense of everything I had just seen.

"Peeta," Johanna calls quietly. I don't want to answer her, I don't know what I had just seen. I only know that it was frightening, confusing, and I never want to see it again. I move to the corner of the cell where I usually sit to talk to Johanna. "Where did they take you?" she whispers.

"I don't know... some kind of medical room. There was a chair, they strapped me down and injected me with something." She doesn't say anything, and I frown. "Johanna?"

"Peeta … what else did they do to you?" she whispers.

"They … showed me something. Katniss, but it wasn't really Katniss. What did they do to me?" I rub my forehead and frown at my hands. "Was that … tracker jacker venom?" I ask. I remember being poisoned by Tracker Jackers in my first Hunger Games, and the deliriousness and hallucinations it had brought on. This hadn't been as bad, but the feelings had been the same. Perhaps they had a controlled version of the venom.

"I think they're hijacking you, Peeta. I've heard about it but … wasn't sure …" I can imagine her shaking her head, not sure what to say. I rest my head against the wall, closing my eyes.

"Hijacking me," I say it slowly, tasting the words in my mouth. I think of last year, sitting on the rooftop with Katniss and telling her I didn't want the Capitol to change me, that I wanted to be more than a piece in their Games. "They're going to make me hate her," I whisper.

"You have to remember the good memories, Peeta. Hold on to your real memories of Katniss," Johanna hisses urgently. I had told the Doctor he cannot change my feelings for Katniss, or make me not love her, but what if he can? What if he can twist that love, confuse me enough, and make me hate her? What if Snow is just making me a weapon against Katniss?

"Goodnight Johanna," I say flatly. She doesn't reply, and I curl up on my bed, trying to keep my weeping as quiet as possible.

The next day there is no torture. Instead, the guards escort me to a small room, where there are two strangers waiting for me. They look nervous, as if they would prefer to be anywhere else.

"These two are going to help you get ready, then we're going to update you on the Mockingjay's movements, and President Snow will meet you personally to tell you what he needs you to say on air," one of the guard informs me before they leave the room. The Mockingjay. So Katniss has become the face of the rebellion whilst I have been rotting away in prison. A small whisper nags at the back of my mind, taunting me, telling me she's probably forgotten about me.

"Are you … okay?" One of the strangers squeaks. I realise I was whispering to myself, and straight my shoulders, although the movement only causes pain and makes the two men jump.

"I guess you're going to make me look presentable." I wonder where Portia and my Prep team are, if they're being kept somewhere else, or if they are even alive.

I shower and dress in some clean clothes, having to sit still whilst the two men cover my face in make up, trying to hide the bruises that might be visible, put some colour into my face. After that, a guard tells me the basics. Katniss has claimed herself the Mockingjay, taping propos and broadcasting them for the Districts, people are dying for the cause, she's in District Thirteen.

"District Thirteen?" I ask incredulously. "I thought there was no District Thirteen?"

"Long story, you don't need to know it." The guards tells me curtly. And then President Snow is there.

"I need you to make her stop. Make her doubt the people she is working for, doubt the rebellion. I'm sure you have a speech in you somewhere."

"Well that might be difficult, since your guards have been beating a lot of stuff out of me," I snap.

"Yet, nothing useful to us." His mouth is a tight line, and his eyes remind me of a snake preparing to strike. "Perhaps I should request more torture on that girl we picked up with you. What was her name? Johanna?" I close my mouth. I want to ask him if he will protect Katniss if I do this, but know that I cannot push him too far. Not if I want to keep Johanna alive.

The music is starting, and Caeser Flickerman is talking to the audience, but it's not as enthusiastic as his segments for The Hunger Games. He introduces a special guest, and someone is pointing me to the stage. I walk on, trying to keep my back straight and walk without showing the pain screaming through my ribs and legs. Flickerman suppresses the surprise in his expression, but it shows in his eyes when he looks at me. We exchange a little, but it's not as charismatic as it had been before all of this. We used to make the audience laugh with our antics, but now he is starting to annoy me.

He asks me about Katniss, and if I'd like to say something.

I need you, why aren't you here? Have you already moved on? Are you with Gale? Why have you abandoned me? The questions race through my mind, but what comes from my mouth is entirely different.

"Don't be a fool, Katniss. Think for yourself. They've turned you into a weapon that could be instrumental in the destruction of humanity. If you've got any real influence, use it to put the brakes on this thing. Use it to stop the war before it's too late. Ask yourself, do you really trust the people you're working with? Do you really know what's going on? And if you don't … find out." I know that there are very few people Katniss trusts, and I highly doubt she trusts the people who are using her as their puppet.

"That's a wrap!" Someone shouts, the screens go black. I guess we're finished.

Someone takes me by the arm, leads me off the stage and down the corridor. I wonder if they'll allow me to wash before I have to return to the cells. I look up, and Doctor Tylion is smiling at me. He gestures for me to walk over to him, and I do so slowly.

"Ah, Peeta! We'll get you showered, and then we'll continue with your treatment. President Snow has asked that we meet at least every other day for a session. Isn't that exciting?" He talks enthusiastically. No, it isn't exciting. It isn't exciting at all.