24 | THE INTERVIEW
SONG SUGGESTION: Fake It by Bastille
Greyson sat up as the Capitol's anthem played loud and strong as ever at the end of her bed, the screen fading to black before reappearing with Caesar Flickerman on screen, startling her. Greyson didn't move as Caesar's twinkling eyes stared through the screen and pierced her soul, freezing it through the glass.
Greyson's doctor, Dr. Yu, was a kind lady with a naturally beautiful face. She now stood by her bedside sorting Greyson's mandatory medication into the days of the week.
During the ride back to Thirteen from District 4, Greyson had cried, forcing herself out of her jumpsuit and ripping it violently at the seams, having Boggs throw a thermal blanket around her shoulders, with the material fortunately long enough to reach the short woman's knees.
Gale had watched from a certain point on the hovercraft, a flash of the scars Greyson received in her Games exposed to him. Gale had sympathy for Greyson and disgust towards the Capitol as he silently stood by with Greyson crying into Boggs' shoulder, her tears staining his black army uniform. Boggs didn't seem to mind, as his own face was morphed into one of empathy and solemness, his dark eyes drifting to Greyson's shaking form and the bloodied jumpsuit.
No one questioned her what happened, and they didn't want to.
Besides Dr. Yu, Greyson hadn't talked to anyone, even Katniss who was concerned for her friend. Katniss made it a point to visit Greyson everyday after lunch in the medical level, occasionally bringing Greyson a roll of bread she managed to slip from the guards' attentive gazes. Greyson didn't mind Katniss' company, as the younger girl didn't talk much to begin with, and they usually just sat in silence, enjoying the other's presence.
Dr. Yu brought her caramel eyes to the screen, pressing her lips into a thin line.
"Hello," Caesar greeted in low voice with the biggest lie of a smile Greyson ever saw, "good evening to all in Panem. I'm Caesar Flickerman. And whoever you are, whatever you're doing – if you're working, put down your work. If you're having dinner, stop having dinner. Because you are going to want to witness this tonight. There has been rampant speculation about what really happened in the Quarter Quell. And here to shed a little light on the subject for us is a very special guest. Please welcome, Mr. Peeta Mellark."
Greyson gasped loudly, her eyes widening as she crawling over the blankets wrapped around her and sitting on her knees, expectantly watching the screen, her throat thick with emotion as the boy from District 12 was sitting across from Caesar. He didn't look too bad, but he also looked too okay, as if they wanted the citizens of Panem to see that no harm was coming to the hostage victors. But Greyson knew better than to believe that. How could she when everything they've done turned to ash? When everything always ended up in flames?
"Peeta," Caesar carried on, "a lot of people feel as though they're in the dark."
Peeta nodded his head, playing along with Caesar. Of course Peeta, Greyson thought, of course they'd use him to sway the districts. "Yeah, yeah. I know how they feel." There was an edge of bitterness to his soft voice.
"Now, so set the stage for us. Talk us through what really happened on that final and controversial night."
"Well, first off, you have to . . . you have to understand that when you're in the Games, you only get one wish. It's very costly." Peeta began.
Greyson sniffled, finally realizing that the wetness of her cheeks was coming from her, that she was crying. She couldn't believe he was alive, and with that thought, came others. More specifically, about Finnick. If Peeta was alive, that meant Finnick was too.
"It costs your life," Caesar voiced his thoughts. His scripted thoughts.
"I think it costs more than your life," Peeta disagreed.
Caesar furrowed his lavender brows in confusion. "How do you mean? What's more than your life?"
Greyson wanted to laugh at him. There was so much more than your death, there were others, people who wouldn't be able to live if you were gone, hope that would burn out, and people who were supposed to be dead weren't.
"I mean to . . . to murder innocent people." Greyson fought back the gruesome images of everyone she's ever killed, with her bare hands and of her actions.
"Ah," Caesar finally understood.
"Now, that costs everything you are," Peeta said.
Caesar nodded his head, as if understanding the brutality of killing, as if he himself was forced to take part in the Hunger Games. "Yes, yes."
"So you, you hold onto that one wish. And that night my wish was to save Katniss." Peeta's eyes were empty, hollow and desolate as if every little joy he ever had was taken away from him and crushed under a boot.
"Yes."
"You know, I should've just run off with her, earlier in the day like she wanted." Peeta revealed. Greyson hadn't suspected anything less, she knew the two were going to part ways with the group at the first chance they got, which was why they needed to quicken the plan with the coil and the lightning tree. She could taste blood on her tongue just thinking back to the night it all fell apart yet came together.
"But you didn't." Caesar pushed.
"No," Peeta shook his head.
"Why?" Caesar asked, "Were you caught up in Beetee's plan?"
"No, I was . . . was caught up playing allies. And then they separated us and . . . that's when I lost her. And then the lightning hit, and uh, the whole force field around the arena blew out." Greyson sucked her cheeks in, guiltily looking down briefly.
"Yes, but, Peeta, Katniss is the one who blew it out," Caesar said as if it was some great big truth.
Hell yeah she did, Greyson smugly thought to herself.
"No," Peeta shook his head.
Caesar frowned, "you saw the footage."
Greyson glared at the screen in confusion. The footage? She asked herself. Why would they show him footage of the arena?
"No, she . . . she didn't know what she was doing. Neither of us knew there was a bigger plan going on, we had no idea." Peeta said exasperatedly.
"You had no idea?" Caesar echoed.
"No." Peeta said back with a bite to his voice.
"Alright. Well, Peeta, there are many who find this suspicious to say the least." Caesar leaned back in his chair, his eyes challenging Peeta to say more. But Peeta only hummed, not saying anything else. And then Caesar broke the tension with, "it seems as though she was part of a rebel plan."
Peeta's eyes flashed up to his. "What, do you think it was part of her plan to be almost killed by Johanna? Or part of the plan to be paralyzed by lightning? No, we . . . we were not part of any rebel plan. We had no idea what was going on."
Caesar nodded, reminding Greyson of a therapist who copied every action of Peeta's like a mime. "Alright. I believe you, Peeta Mellark. Thank you."
"Yeah," Peeta grumbled.
Caesar eyed Peeta. "Now, I was going to ask you to speak about the unrest, but I think you might be too upset."
"No," Peeta denied, "no, I can."
"Are you sure?" Caesar asked, his voice cautious as if he was talking to a child.
"Yeah, absolutely."
"Thank you." Caesar said with a small smile.
Peeta nodded, "yeah."
Greyson didn't like how smooth the conversation was going, as if it was written out and practiced a thousand times. Greyson could see that Peeta wasn't fooling her, but that may be because she's met the boy and spent time around him in the arena. Without that knowledge, he could've fooled anyone.
Peeta turned to face the camera, his deep blue eyes staring into the camera. "I want everyone who's watching to stop, and to think about what a civil war could mean. We almost went extinct once before, and now our numbers are even fewer." Greyson wanted to yell at Peeta; she knew what he was doing, and it would only fuel those who were against the Capitol – the whole of Thirteen. "Is this really what we want to do? Kill ourselves off? Killing is not the answer."
Greyson heard Dr. Yu sigh out of disappointment as she too watched the interview. "Everyone needs to lay down their weapons immediately." Peeta continued, "for all of us."
Greyson ran a hand down her face, shaking her head. She knew that somewhere, deep down, probably even on the surface, that Peeta Mellark didn't want to say these words. She knew just as much as anyone that Peeta wanted to abolish the tyranny of the Capitol. And whoever didn't was blind.
"Are you calling for a cease fire?" Caesar asked, pretending to be shocked.
"Yeah, I am." Peeta responded. "I want everyone to stop the senseless violence. This is not the path to change."
"What are you doing?" Greyson asked the television.
Peeta glanced back at the screen, his final words being, "it's not the path to justice," as the screen went black.
* * *
Later, Katniss came to visit Greyson during the evening hours, her jumpsuit lazily shrugged on and her hair flowing down her shoulders in wild waves. She had bags under her eyes and empty hands, meaning Greyson would have to stick to the little food she ate for dinner earlier. Katniss sat down in the chair beside her bed, watching Greyson with sleepy, gray eyes.
Greyson sat up against the back of the bed, shuffling under the covers. "Thank you," she whispered in the dark.
"For what?" Katniss asked back.
Greyson's shrugged in response. "Many things, I guess."
"Like what?"
"Defying Snow, breaking the arena, helping the rebellion, for not killing Finnick as many times as you could've, for sparing my life when I knew you didn't want to, and for not making me out to be this insane woman from District 4 who's madly in love with a man who might be dead." Greyson listed everything she could think of at the moment, not bothering to look at Katniss' reaction.
Katniss stayed silent, but not for long. "He could be alive. Peeta's alive."
Greyson shrugged, "maybe. But if he is, he won't be for much longer."
"Why would you say that?" Katniss questioned.
"Because," Greyson laughed with a little bit of chaos mixed into her voice, "every person I've ever loved is dead because I wasn't there in time to protect them, so it only makes sense that the one person I've allowed myself to love after all this time is with the man who's killed them all."
"I'm no hero," Katniss whispered hoarsely.
"I never said you were." Greyson mused. "They don't need a hero, Katniss. They need a Mockingjay, someone who isn't as messed up in the head as I am."
Katniss shook her head, "you're not messed up."
"Aren't I?" Greyson sighed, "Katniss, you've been playing the game for a very short time. I've been playing the game for over ten years, and that messes with your mind."
"Since you won your Games?" Katniss asked.
"Since my name was reaped."
A/N: PEETA WTF YOU STUD MUFFIN
annnddddd that's all folks! *pulls me off stage*
jk I am definitely not done with you all yet. hehehe just you wait and see. man, I love teasing you all. hahaha. ive noticed that this story is almost at 50k and I honestly can't thank you enough. it's crazy to think that just last year this story was just starting out. I've also decided that since school will be starting soon that I should probably start putting this story on a schedule. so. this story will be updated (hopefully) every Sunday. got that? if not, it will be on my bio on my profile. and yes ik today is Monday. so the next update should probably be this Sunday. ew. ha.
AND PLEASE vote and comment your asses off bc I've also noticed the decline in this story, which ain't good bc I love writing for you guys and it makes me happy. so please, motivate me to write. with that being said, here are the questions. xx
what do you think of Greyson and Gale's relationship? eh or ye?
what's your favorite current movie? (I just watched Good Will Hunting for the first time and I have to say that it was incredible, can't believe it took me so long to watch it.)
have you read my other books? (How To Be Human, Forget Me Not, or Evermore?)
do you prefer short or long chapters?
should I be more descriptive for this story or slightly vague/how it has been?