The reason why there is a big white space in the middle is because Tumblr won’t let me upload the whole thing so I needed to separate it up.
Follow up to - [x]
The Hijacking; Peeta’s POV
“What’s going on, where’s Katniss?”
I’m answered with nothing but silence and the soft echo of my own voice. Several capitol attendants are wheeling an old television into the room. Frustrated by their refusal to respond I begin walking towards them but am instantly pushed down onto an uncomfortable wooden chair by a burly peacekeeper. He straps down my arms, legs and torso until I am only able to twist my neck. A man in a lab coat enters the room holding a syringe filled with metallic liquid. Fear creeps into me and I start to squirm hopelessly. He moves towards me and injects the concoction into my neck. Pain comes and the world is put off balance. Beads of sweat have formed on my temples and my hands are tightly clenching the edges of the chair as the liquid attacks me. I’ve experienced this stinging agony before, tracker jacker venom. The man who injected me retrieves a remote from his pocket, points towards the television then presses play. A video montage of my time with Katniss starts to play; with each passing scene the images become more gruesome and bloody. It becomes increasingly difficult to differentiate truth from hallucination as the venom seeps into my bodily systems. I’m screaming, gasping for air, because there’s nothing more I want to do then escape, but still the clips continue. Her face has transformed into a hideous mess, I watch as she mercilessly shoots an arrow through a boy’s neck and points her bow to my own chest. Disgusting. Violent. Mutt. Another invention of the capitols, made to destroy everything I hold dear. The venom must be continuing its course because drowsiness begins to dull the pain. Her contorted face- fierce eyes piercing into mine, and upper lip curled in an odious grin, is the last image I see before losing consciousness.
Katniss & Peeta’s toasting ceremony.
They’re alone; silent. The fire crackles beside them, the heat almost too much. They take turns holding their bread above the flames, letting the heat warm the bread. Peeta smears butter over the slices, and they eat in silence, hands clasped, reverent over the ties they’ve just formed. I love you he whispers, so much.
