I just couldn't resist the Prompts in Panem: Seven Deadly Sins challenge on Tumblr! Many of these were written on the plane, one even on my plane ticket. That was how much I just couldn't NOT write. I'll update The Other Mockingjay soon, but I'll have to write finish challenge first... Besides, the next chapter is difficult to write, there's a certain something that needs to be just perfect in it, soooo... You'll just have to wait a bit longer, I'm sorry. But I'm working on it, don't worry.

Back to the challenge: To refresh your memory, the seven deadly sins are:

Pride - Superbia

Greed - Avaritia

Lust - Luxuria

Envy - Invidia

Gluttony - Gula

Wrath - Ira

Sloth - Acedia

They aren't written in this order, I'll follow the order set by the Tumblr challenge. Rated M for violence, murder, sexual violence, smutty thoughts, well... You get the picture. First up: Wrath.

Ira

He wakes in the dark from his deep, drug-induced sleep, and he knows she's near. She's somewhere in the building, he can feel it, perhaps even smell it. He tries to get up, but finds he's strapped to the bed, unable to move. He screams of the top of his lungs, alone in the darkness. He wets himself, and he would feel ashamed if he weren't so consumed with the intensity of his emotions, or rather the intensity of the one emotion he has left: His overwhelming hatred against her. The traitor, the liar, the seductress, the mutt.

When his throat is so raw that it hurts too much to keep screaming, he throws his head backwards. There is a very limited range of motions available to him, but this he can do: His head makes contact with the hard bed or rather the board he's lying on, again and again and again. At one point, someone comes in to give him an injection, it's a woman, but he doesn't think he's seen her before. When she realizes the mess he's made, she wrinkles her little nose, calls for help, and another woman comes to her aid. They take off his urine-stained trousers and underwear, clean him up and put on clean underwear, although they put on a diaper underneath the boxer shorts this time. They only release one leg at a time, making very sure he can't escape, and also making sure the next time he wets himself, it won't be that much work for them to clean up his mess. He hisses at them, he would've been mortified at having two young women clean his private parts, particularly in the state he's in, strapped to a hospital bed, if he hadn't been so consumed with thinking about how he's going to kill her.

He can think of a hundred different ways. Slow, fast. Always painful, some excruciatingly so. He imagines how it would feel to have her underneath him first, before he kills her, and the thought of her body writhing underneath his in panic when he pounds into her while she knows she's going to die makes him hard. He imagines how she would scream for mercy, but why should he be merciful when all she's ever given him is pain?

He knows she's been with Gale. They showed him the footage of them kissing in the forest, they told him they've been fucking for years, since long before the Hunger Games. She's just been toying with him, they say, and he believes them. They wouldn't lie, not to him, he's a victor after all. She knew he loved her, and they have both laughed at him behind his back. Perhaps she's even pregnant with Gale's child now. As he thinks about it, he realizes it must true, it must be so. He imagines the things he would do to her, knowing she's pregnant with his child, the child of the man he's always envied, the one he could never truly compete with, and his plans of how to kill her intensify. They grow even darker, there are no quick ways of killing her left in his brain now.

In the morning, another nurse comes in, along with two doctors. The nurse opens the blinds, letting in the rays of the morning sun. He blinks against the light. He knows the room stinks, of sweat, urine and semen, but he doesn't care. He greets them with a smile, a sneering grin like a wolf, and he's deliriously happy because he has just thought of the ultimate way of killing the whore and her bastard seam child. They look at him with worry in their eyes and give him another injection. It must be different from the other one, stronger, because he can feel himself slipping away, into unconsciousness.

As the world around him disappears, he knows he must hold on to that thought: The perfect murder of Katniss Everdeen.