Suffocate

The beeping was constant at first, piercing the silence rhythmically.

I didn’t mind it, sometimes I barely even heard it, it crashed over me like waves. Lots of things seemed to flutter past me, and I couldn’t grasp, couldn’t grip any of them fully.

I didn’t know where I was, in those rare moments of clarity I could guess, the beeping, the white, the lack of others.

I had to be in the Capitol. That should be horrifying but I was too drugged up to be scared. I was too drugged up to feel anything but numb, woozy, as fluid and lost as the tide. I wasn’t dying, I could tell.

My body was stiff, a cocoon, casing me in place, keeping me perfectly still, but it didn’t hurt.

I didn’t think it hurt. I wasn’t sure.

The arena had exploded, that was real, I should have died, but I was here. Plugged into medical equipment and alive.

Did they save me because the others succeeded or because they failed? I hadn’t seen another person, not even a shadow, a blurred figure. There had to be some, someone that had attached me to these tubes, made sure I’d stayed alive.

Had they saved me, kept me alive because they had made it to Thirteen? Or were they keeping me alive because they were in some other cell, some other room?

Finnick.

I tried to grab at his name, but it danced past and left me here, a statue on a cloud of a bed. My only company was the beeping. Had it been days? Weeks, or just hours? I had no way of being sure, when I opened my eyes it was a blurred white, clinical, cold white, and when I closed my eye it burnt through my eyelids, an orange haze.

All I had was the orange haze and those few glimmers when I could actually feel, could actually think. More than not the drug overpowered them. I tried to move but my fingers didn’t feel right, they were lead.

I was lead, stone, a pebble that was washed deep into sea and had sunk, nestled under sand and debris, waiting for the water to wear me away.


The beeping stopped and the world shifted. I felt worse, more exhausted, more confused.
They’d upped the dosage of whatever was in my blood stream, probably morphling, like those poor souls from Six.

Underneath me kept moving, any words I tried to form were slurs, caught on my dry swollen tongue, cracking on my lips. I was completely delirious, the hit on the head in the arena had been nothing, nothing compared to this. I couldn’t even open my eyes anymore, I was close to sleep but not able to creep into it. Voices buzzed in my ears, the movement was rocking, making me feel nauseous. My churning stomach was the only real thing.

“Wake her up.” I recognised that warbled voice, I knew that. I felt it vibrate over me, making every hair on my body stand upright as I drifted back into conscious thought, back into this real world so far from my deluded dreams I instantly prayed to be back there. “Alright, gently, we don’t want her dead yet do we?”

The voice was becoming clearer, static fading, sight coming back as two strong hands dug into my upper arms and I was shoved into a sitting position. There was colour finally, but it was still muted, still pale. It took me too long to realise that that was right, that the hands on me belonged to peacekeepers, and that odd sweet smell tainting the air, the last sense to function, was roses.

I was sat up face to face with President Snow. He grinned, those thick lips looked stretched, like the skin would split and tear open. I was waiting for blood to pour from them, for him to choke on it. I knew he was close to it, I remembered Finnick’s words, what he had learnt.

Finnick.

I wasn’t aware I’d spoke his name until the lips spread further, light pink on the edges, flushing with blood. “Yes Miss Volute...Mr Odair is part of our issue.” Every possibility hit me in shock after shock, the lightening that struck the tree was rippling down my spine. I couldn’t speak, but a hard voice demanded I did, and I let my own lips flap open and closed, mouth so dry it hurt. “I...”

“Would you like a drink? You look dehydrated.” Snow’s eyes were watery and pale, betraying the age he longed to hide, he barked an order at someone I couldn’t see, arms still held in space, my fingers could move now, but they hadn’t much, they’d just curled around the edges of the bed.

I nodded mutely, unable to do little else and a plastic cup of water was held in front of me. Snow stared until I took it, sipping it slowly although the relief of the cool over my scratchy throat made me want to moan.

I was cool, finally I realised, that humid heat that had sunk so deep into me in the arena had melted.
The arena.

If Snow was here, was that a good sign of the attempt or bad? I swallowed hard, feeling sick, it was bad for me either way.

People didn’t have President Snow sitting opposite them for any good reason.

“Better?” I nodded again, and the cup was removed from me, boots tapping hard on the floor as white as the rose pinned to his jacket. “Now, Miss Volute.” He smirked, crossing his legs, “Or shall I call you Elenia?” He lifted a brow until I mewed my name, words felt odd in my mouth, I was terrified, I knew that. More so than when Brutus had that sword in the air.

Brutus was a simple enemy, Snow was so much more than that. We’d never spoken directly but if he was here, I was dead, or worse. That was inevitable.

He nodded slowly, pouting those bulbous lips as he leant back, brushing invisible dirt from his sleeve.

“Do you know where you are?”

He dropped my gaze, giving me time to look around, it wasn’t a hospital, I’d been moved from there. The room wasn’t a room, it was a cell. The walls were tiled, so clean I could almost see my reflection. The room was big, uncomfortably so. I knew about Capitol decor, and that behind many of those tiles would be other things, a door, a wardrobe.

I was in a cell, so there was no doubt behind those tiles were pieces of equipment meant to force answers out of people.

How much did they think I knew? If it hadn’t worked who was obvious, who was an obvious threat against the man in front of me?

“Elenia.”

“A prison...” My mouth was dry already, and I could feel the quiver in my fingers and throat, “In the Capitol.”

“And do you know why?” One of the peacekeepers sniggered; earning a glare that would likely mean his death as soon as they left the room. I shook my head; the smirk was back, carved deeply into his plump cheeks, “Why don’t you think a little harder?”

“The...the arena...s...something happened. I don’t know....”

“You don’t know?” He was trying to work it out; I knew that, he was trying to figure me out himself as he loved to. They could hook me up to any piece of detection equipment and it would be obvious I was lying, but Snow thought himself invincible, a god among the people he mistreated.

He was surveying me, testing me himself.

“I...I...where’s Finnick?” It wasn’t planned but it was the right thing to say, “I don’t understand.” He glanced behind me to another.

The confusion in my voice wasn’t as false as it should had been, I searched hard in my mind for anything after that initial burst, the rainbow that crashed along the sky but there was nothing but the beeping.

“A terrorist organisation destroyed the arena.” He said simply, as if it wasn’t revolutionary news, “Katniss Everdeen was part of that organisation and is currently in District Thirteen.”

They did it. The words sparkled in my mouth but I clenched my teeth. If they knew I knew I’d be dead already, this was all to find out how treacherous I was.I couldn’t give anything away. The shock must have registered wrongly on my face, my shock at their success shone as shock it had happened at all.

“Th..Thirteen?” I laid on for extra effect, praying my face was convincing, that in any way I was.
His eyes narrowed, but still very few lines appeared, the skin pulled too tightly over his forehead.

“District Thirteen indeed.” I wasn’t doing enough, suspicion was tugging his features tighter.

“Who?” I had to know, I had to know who had managed it, if Finnick was safe. If he was here, otherwise. As if to make a point a hard scream echoed through the air, there were patches, cut outs high in the walls, someone was next door. If it wasn’t Katniss it was Johanna.

I couldn’t stop myself from facing in the direction, flickers of light breaking through the gaps. There was a sound, a buzzing. I felt like my ribs were shrinking, crushing my limbs. “Electric shocks.” Snow casually commented, and the hands were on my arms again, forcefully twisting my body back to face him.

My heart was thumping against my chest painfully, a hummingbird trying to break out.

“A good way to inflict pain without too much permanent damage.” He grinned savagely and I retched, although there was nothing for me to throw up. Snow shrunk back in his seat disgusted.

Johanna screamed again and I hunched as if the painful noise had broken from me. A hand moved, gripping my hair tightly and wrenching my head upwards, tears were escaping me now and the terror had overtaken me fully.

Not too much permanent damage.

“What are you doing to her?” I managed to choke out, the grip on my hair tightening, follicles burning all over my scalp.

“We are questioning her and she is not being co-operative.” He paused, letting another scream ring out. “Tell them that is enough for today.”

One peace keeper vanished.

“You’re going to kill her.” I wept, half for her and half selfishly, was that what awaited me when they were done with her? They were going to fry me inside out.

“Eventually.” Snow’s smile was smaller now, “She is a traitor in the eyes of Panem. In the eyes of anyone sane.” I avoided his, “Katniss Everdeen was a spark that needed to be eliminated Miss Volute, and a certain number of people, in and out of that arena, stopped that from happening.”

The room was deadly silent, the only sound the high pitched searing in my ears, the heartbeat that only seemed to quicken.

“What happened?” He ignored me, “I don’t understand, where is everyone else?”

“Bring him in.” I struggled foolishly, weakly but was kept in place, feeling the strands of hair plucked from my skin.

“No, no, what are you doi-?!”

A hand roughly swung around my face, the sound echoing, bouncing off the walls, pain searing in my cheek. The air leaves me sharply, and the door blocked from my view by peacekeepers opens. I wait, the waiting is far worse than the pain, no physical pain could hurt as much as it did now, waiting for whatever state he was in.

Finnick had failed to escape himself, what if he had come for me, what if he’d risked himself, what if he was hurt, the same way they had been hurting Johanna?! I couldn’t live with that, my fault, my fault again.

The man dragged in wasn’t him. I couldn’t even be relieved, although for a split second I was, more than was right, guiltily and disgustingly so but then it was over.

It was over when Snow tilted his head, measuring my reaction and pulled the pistol from an inside pocket of his jacket. There was no sound from the man held up, he just glanced at me, face bloody and bruised, eyes scared, petrified. The blood splattered across the red tiles.

Marck was dead, and it was all just beginning.

“I want you to be aware of how severe the situation is,” he paused; all I could do was watch the pooling red soak into his blonde hair, seep into the damaged clothing. I struggled and they held me tight, “Elenia.”

I didn’t see President Snow again for days.

I’d passed whatever little test he’d been performing. He didn’t see to think I knew as much as I did and it had to stay that way. Or perhaps I hadn't and this was part of it.

Johanna wouldn’t break, everyone knew that. Not that we knew anything more than they seemed too, but it wouldn’t stop them.

Days passed, now that the drugs had fully worked their way out of my system it hurt again, not badly although when I inspected my stomach there was a long thin line. They’d removed something, obviously not a vital organ but I’d been right in my fears.

Not that they’d healed me fully, it still ached with movement. That was probably purposeful. To stop be making too much trouble. Not that I could do much.

Since they’d left I’d been completely alone.

It had to have been days but it was hard to tell, the burning lights never dimmed, never went off. All I had to judge it by was when they tortured Johanna, and I assumed they wouldn’t do that at night although I had no way in knowing.

I could hardly stand it, every time I cried pathetically, I wanted to be sick although I’d been deprived of food and all I did was gag on the thin air.

They weren’t going to get anything, they had to know that.

And what more did they need? I didn’t think she knew names, I didn’t know names. I just knew it was Thirteen and they had succeeded, almost.
I had no idea what they were doing after, were Districts in revolt? Were people dying?

Was Finnick... I couldn’t even bare to think of it. I hadn’t heard him screaming, that was the only hope I clung to. I couldn’t hear anyone I recognised. Thom must have made it, otherwise I knew full well Snow would want to torture me with that information. Maybe my torture was being alone, being silent and trapped with thoughts.

Maybe he knew the best way to break me was to let me do it myself.

On what I judged to be the third day there was a click, gears turning in the wall and suddenly, as if out of nowhere spurts of water covered the whole cell, and a large drain opened up in the centre of the floor, washing away any mess, finally removing any remnants of Marck. His body slid and vanished, blood following after it, swirling in patterns over the tiles.

I hadn’t been able to look at him, it, his corpse. I’d sat on the bed, switching between hunched with my knees to my chest and desperately trying to sleep. I didn’t think I had more than a couple of hours. I knew he had been staring at me, still staring with those begging scared eyes I’d let down.

But now he was gone, and my skin was aching, stinging from whatever chemical was in the water.
Johanna screamed again but fell silent as soon as it stopped. The skin on my arms was a light pink, tingling like it had once I’d applied that cream on the beach. That felt like so long ago. It felt like a better place, a place with certainty, success or death.

Now I had neither. They had to be building up, soon they had to hurt me like they were Johanna, surely. I’d searched so hard for what reasons they could have to keep me here if they didn’t, to keep me alive and there was none. Either Finnick and my family were here, dead, or safe.

My life didn’t impact of those things particularly. I’d known going into the arena, agreeing to volunteer if my name hadn’t been called that I would likely die for Katniss Everdeen. Once at the Capitol I knew I had to keep Beetee alive, that she had to escape.

She was so important. The most important teenager in existence. Her very persona was supposed to bring change, to end the hunger games and make Panem better. We were supposed to help her.
Why hadn’t they taken us with them? Was it the trackers, that was my fault. But we’d succeeded in what Thirteen had wanted, her, their mockingjay.

They didn’t need us. It hadn’t taken me long to realise that, if they needed all of us they would have found a way.

Why was nothing being done? Why hadn’t I heard. Not that I would, the peacekeepers wouldn’t exactly pop in and tell me the latest would they?

I scorned myself. Crossing my legs, rubbing at the growing hair that seemed to sizzle under my touch, the chemical burning again as the skin made contact. I adjusted myself carefully. My whole body was aching.

Maybe it had been more than three days, how long had I been unconscious? How long had they been fixing me up? I had no way of knowing. Maybe they were simply starving me, going to leave me to wither away. Easy, simple, silent.

I turned back, checking for easily the tenth time in the last few minutes that all remnants of Marck were gone. They were, the tiles were drying and there was no trace. I wondered where the drain went, but the horrible images that flooded me weren’t worth it and I let my head drop into my hands.

If they had done that to Marck, for no reason, no reason whatsoever, what were they doing to everyone else?

What about Luine?

To kill Finnick’s stylist was supposed to mean something to me, it did, but we weren’t close, we didn’t spend much time together, never had. They must have Luine, who else, my prep team maybe, everyone who had ever been associated with any of us would be accused.

Why hadn’t I realised?

Maybe they started with Marck for a reason. I didn’t know, I didn’t know anything and it was infuriating, The initial terror was fading into some need for reason, explanation. It sparked whenever Johanna did.

The lights overhead flickered a little and I stared at them with a frown. A scream thrust into my cell through those purposely designed gaps, a male scream.

The door opened with a slight whoosh suddenly and I scurried back as two of the men entered, faces barely visible under their helmets. “Secure her.”