THE BETRAYED MOCKINGJAY

EPILOGUE

The only thing noticeable to Peeta at this moment was the quiet. The deafening silence. The giant screen of the arena glitching and writhing as if it was trying to catch a signal, trying to stop the rebellions that began to build up over the districts, like a fire spreading. The plan was falling in Haymitch's hands, the promise he had made to both the teenagers running in the back of his mind. He had previously promised Peeta that he would protect Katniss, if anything were to happen to him. But katniss wanted Peeta to live, she didn't want the boy who had saved her before to go down just for her, so she had also asked haymitch to protect Peeta, But haymitch had already made up his mind, He would save Katniss. Peeta didn't know this at the time, he thought this was the capitol's way of killing off all possible liabilities to their reign. After all, he still had a target on his back, not to mention Katniss Everdeen. The symbol of peace, Katniss, his friend? Lover? Fiance? It was all an act to her. Peeta knowing this stung him to the core, the girl he relished was a con. Using his heart as a survival tactic. They had been faking their love for the cameras, for sponsors and sympathy from the audience but this was seen as an act of defiance. An act of rebellion. For that, the two of them have a huge target on their backs, watched by the careful eyes of president snow. The hovercrafts spun around the arena, peacekeepers rushing into the arena from all exits, Peeta felt stuck to the same spot. Traumatised. Scared. The guns rose, he prepared himself for his death, his arms stuck down to his sides, letting a few small tears fall from his eyes. He imagined he was back on the beach, beside Katniss with their lips connected. He had felt at that moment that she truly felt something back, like it wasn't for the cameras. It was for her. Her pleasure. He braced. But there was no gunshot, only a pain in his side, like a needle sending him down to his knees. His eyes fell closed, the sound of his body flopping down to the floor rang through the grass, like a whisper. The image of the clock arena faded into a dark blackness, his breath shortening, But he wasn't dying. He was surviving. The silence was still ringing in his ears, like a loud cry of impatience coming from the remaining survivors in District 12, but he had a feeling that this wasn't the end for him.. it was just the beginning. The beginning of a nightmare.