Book 2: The Victors

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Isla chuckles, "It's not ideal, that's for sure. The days seem much longer than before, probably because I haven't got much to do. But, I will say I can't complain too much. I have it better than others. Boredom is the least of the problems I could be having." She dances around the true subject matter behind her words, but she can tell Titus understands.

"Yes, Peeta has started looking rather... unwell." He chooses his words carefully, looking down at his food. "I doubt his life is at terrible risk, but I have to agree with you. Boredom is almost a blessing considering."

Isla appreciates his attempt to empathize. At least he sees there is something going on, and that although Isla is untouched now, she isn't off limits. The Capitol can decide to do anything to her, make her do anything, and use whatever means necessary to do so. As of right now, she has it easy. Johanna is likely dead, and she knows if it was up to Snow, it was anything but swift. And Peeta seems to be slowly decaying in front of the whole country.

"This is delicious." Isla comments, motioning to the food.

"I thought you'd like it, that it'd be a good reminder of home." Titus smiles, and Isla tries to hide her emotions as they rise within her. She can't help but be appreciative of such a kind gesture. Although her heart sinks at the thought of Mags, and even her father, who are now dead, she misses home dearly. 

"It is, thank you."

They eat and chat for some time, their glasses never empty thanks to Cray. Isla was smart about her consumption of the alcoholic beverage, much unlike Titus, who drank happily all evening. Isla knew that for what was to come, she'd have to be sober. Maybe it would be easier for the man if he's drunk. Maybe he'd get so drunk he wouldn't realize what's happening until it's too late?

As the moon rises higher above them, Isla becomes increasingly aware of how small her window of opportunity is becoming. With each glass she loses time, and now, her ride should be pulling up in just over an hour. She needs all the time she can get to dispose of Titus and get into that room. She isn't even sure what to do once she gets her hands on the computers in there, as she's never used anything so high tech before.

"Let's go to my library, I want to show you something." Titus slurs, a merry smile painted across his face. Isla flashes one back, rising from the table and following the man's lead.

As they pass through the kitchen, her eyes catch on something on the counter. A knife holder, equipped with several silver blades. She ensures the man is focused on the hallway ahead before swiftly grabbing one of the smaller handles. It's roughly the same size as the knives she's used to, and she's sure she can manage with it.

Her heart begins to pound as they enter the library, he babbles on about a painting that hangs on the wall near the door. It shows a familiar setting, one she recognizes from a year ago. "He's a great painter, you know." Titus hiccups, motioning to the painting. It displays a girl with long brown locks tied into a braid as she laughs at a much smaller girl with dark brown skin. The two are sitting in what looks to be a forest, their clothes consisting of cargo pants and a windbreaker jacket.

"Peeta painted this?" Isla whispers, inching closer to the canvas. She can see each delicate paint stroke as they all come together to form the beautiful setting displayed in front of them. Peeta's signature is written in one swipe at the bottom. 

"Yes, he only paints scenery from the games. A bit tragic, but he has a good eye for catching the beautiful moments."

Isla isn't sure why, but his words create a bubbling mass of rage that rises deep within her chest. The beautiful moments? Of what? The games that killed her best friend, took away the happiness from everyone it could get it's hands on? Isla decides to capitalize on the emotions she feels, as she's sure now will be the easiest chance she has to go through with her plan. She slowly turns to look at Titus, his face falling as he recognizes the expression she holds.