❝𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐎𝐒❞ | k. everdeen

chapter 16: i spy.

Nola would swear it was Peeta, but his voice sounded too different. It was strange, because Peeta always radiated confidence and gentleness no matter his condition, but now his voice was rough and a deeper tone than she was used to hearing. So she repeated his name.

—I'm here —the voice replied. Yes, it was Peeta. It was definitely him. But there was something strange.

—Are you all right? You shouldn't have... done that.

—I'm alive. So are you —Nola heard a cold chuckle, as if Peeta didn't believe their luck, but that chuckle turned into a desperate sob shortly after—. I thought... I thought they would have killed you.

—I thought they would have killed you. Are you all right? —Nola repeated, reassuring herself. But Peeta knew what she meant: she didn't want to know if he was alive, she wanted to know what they had done to him.

—After what happened in front of the cameras I don't think they did anything else to me. I did everything else myself. You know... —Peeta muttered—. My good leg hurts. The real one, I mean. I'm remembering that I kicked the bed to get them to leave me alone. I never usually remember what's going on while I'm being tortured. I think that's what they've done to me, because my head hurts like hell again. I can't see my face, but I imagine I have a black eye. How about you?

—I don't think it's anything major. My body hurts, but I don't think I have any injury that's going to kill me. I can't look at my face either, but I haven't slept for quite a few days, so I guess I won't look too good —Nola let out a low laugh, trying to make Peeta smile, but it didn't make much sense either: she couldn't even see him—. They're doing it on purpose.

—What?

—When I was a kid living in District 2, before I went to the Hunger Games, I didn't have a home, so I lived in an orphanage. It was where all the kids without families went. There were nice people, some of the teachers and the ladies in the dining room were nice and cared about you, especially if you were young, but there were also a lot of motherfuckers. There used to be a bunch of older kids that went to work. We made guns, you know, and when you're sixteen you start working. So they would take guns that they made there and they would sneak them into the orphanage. They would wait for some helpless animal to get into the yard through the ditch, and then they would shoot, but not to kill. They would shoot at some part of the body that they could heal, like a leg, if it was a cat, or a wing, if it was a bird or something. They would tell the teachers that they had found it like that, and ask for help to rescue it. They had fun like that because they knew they had power over them. They would torture them, then cure them, and the process would repeat itself again.

There was silence on the other side. It was clear that Nola had disobeyed Snow's most basic rules, and that had infuriated him greatly, so she had earned that punishment. And Peeta, well, he had just been collateral damage. If she hadn't acted out that day, he probably wouldn't be in the state he was in now. The only thing that comforted Nola was that she couldn't see him.

—Something tells me they're not going to heal us this time —Peeta said.

—I don't know. I think we've pissed them off enough.

Peeta chuckled, against all odds—. They must have some pretty fragile plans if two teenagers can make them so mad —Nola stifled a laugh, not even understanding why she felt like laughing. Maybe because she was remembering things from her District—. How did you know? About District 13?

—I'll tell you when we get out of here.

—What if we don't get out? —Peeta didn't hesitate to ask the question. Nola bit her cheek, avoiding tears, and, with a sigh, looked up at the ceiling.