Summary: What happened to Peeta after he was taken captive by the Capital at the end of Catching Fire. His fight to stay alive and to stay sane. This story is influenced by MockingJay, but it will not be the same. I don't know about you… But I was unsatisfied on how the book panned out. Also I don't really like FFs that almost copy the dialogue word for word, so I will probably only include popular moments. Everything else, will be different. Warning: This story will probably get rather graphic. Thus the M rating.

Chapter 1: My Paper Heart

"I swear!" hoarsely shouted at two peace keepers, "I swear I don't know anything-"

I barely got to finish my sentence before a fist collided onto the side of my cheek, and effectively knocking me and the chair I was strapped into, onto the ground. I landed, hard. My

mouth released an "oof!" before it registered the pain.

"Listen up boy," one of the peace keepers gruffly said to me, while he pulled me back up with my hair, "You're Katniss Everdeen's bitch! We know that you have to know some

information about the rebels and District Thirteen. Now I'm going to ask reeeaaal nicely, again," The hulk-of-a-man took a pronounced breath in, leaned his face close to mine, and in a

rasp whisper he asked, "What do you know about District Thirteen's militia?"

I looked at the man with a dumbfounded expression. I never had a clue that the people of District Thirteen were still alive, much less did I know about how prepared they were for a


"I swear," I say rather meekly, "I had no idea that… that District Thirteen was still alive."

My truthful statement only makes the two men sigh. I watch their facial expression change as they began to think - most likely they were probably thinking about the many ways they

can make me talk. If I had actually known anything at all about District Thirteen, I probably wouldn't have talked anyways; however, I do wish I had known at least something, that

way the interrogation I have received wouldn't be all for nothing. I would actually have something to protect. I wouldn't be falsely accused.

But I know nothing.

I being to wonder if anyone in District Thirteen even remembers about me. The boy that unknowingly sacrificed himself for the cause. Surely not, it has been three weeks. And why

should they care? I am no more than a pawn in the grander scheme of life. I have done my job, and now I have been released of my duties. District Thirteen knows I knew nothing of

them. I am no threat that must be silenced or rescued.

I begin to wonder if my father remembers me, my mother, my brothers? They will most likely mourn for a few days and then move on with their lives. Having a son or brother that's

been through two Hunger Games surely prepares a family for his death.

I wonder if Katniss remembers me.




That's right. She's the reason that I must stay strong, that I must keep collected, and that I must have faith. No matter what happens to me here… I'm just glad that this is all

happening to me… And not to her.

But wait.

Do I actually know that Katniss is safe? Did she make it out alive after the arena basically self-destructed? Or is she… no. No. It can't be possible. B-but… is she also here. In the capital,

being vigorously interrogated, in a different 6X7 cell like me?

I have to mentally slap myself in the face to stop my thoughts. I then hear gruff voices talking over my head, and I snap my mind back into reality. I gasp audibly when I see what they

are holding. It appears that my 'stubbornness' to cooperate, is about to turn this interrogation into a torture session.

I gulp back the fear, and try to think of my dad, my mom, my brothers, and Katniss. I try to let them remind me why I must not give in or break.

These are going to be a tough few days…

I barely get those thoughts through my head before my stomach is sliced open.

I dart out running at full speed. If they catch me now - I know that I am dead. I twist and turn through the never ending hallways. I see a light up ahead. It is so close, and I can barely

make it. But for some reason, every time I get closer. The light gets farther away from me. Small beads of sweat are beginning to break out on several parts of my forehead; I use my

left hand to wipe them away. When my hand comes back in view, it is no longer there. I stop, startled, and look around me until I see it. I see my hand, dripping with blood where it

was severed, inside a giant wolf's mouth. I try to scream, but no sound is made. The wolf stares at me with the most sinister eyes I have ever seen. The sight of his white fur keeps me

paralyzed with a new found fear. I know who this mutt is. The white wolf bounds towards me, and jumps on top of my now thrashing body. President Snow has decided to finish me off

himself. He begins to tear my flesh off my stomach area, and the looks and me to make sure I'm alive, before he rips apart my now visible organs with his claws. Now, I scream;

coincidently, my screaming only motivates him. He becomes more vigorous, and starts clawing only more adamantly.

All the sudden I hear my name being called, and everything around me starts to become a blurred mist.

"Katniss! Katniss! Wake up!" A name shouts at me.

"Katniss! You're only dreaming. Please wake up!"

My eyes suddenly snap open, and this time, instead of finding a white wolf, I find my younger sister. She is looking at me, her eyes full of concern and worry.

It was just a dream. I tell myself. Just a dream.

"Katniss?" Prim asks, "Are you ok? Do you want to talk about it?"


The last thing I would want is to keep President Snow's mutt-like appearance in my head anymore than necessary. I look at Prim and shake my head.

"Thanks Prim, but I think I'd like to keep this dream to myself," I say as I give her a small, sad smile, "But one thing I do know that I want to do, is go get some breakfast. I'm


She giggles lightly at this, she takes my hand, and then she pulls me off my bed.

"Ok," she says softly but sweetly, "You should get dressed first, unless of course… You don't mind people seeing you in that torn T-shirt."

I look at her face, which is now sporting an amused expression, before I look down at my shirt. It is completely shredded. I then look at my finger nails, and there I find tiny pieces of

black fabric, wedged in-between my nails.

Huh. I must have torn that when I was trying to push that damn mutt of of me.

I quickly try to press tat thought out of my head. I look and not at Prim, while I stand up from the floor, and head off towards my dresser. I pull out the first shirt and pair of jeans that

I see from the drawer. Not that it mattered anyways, everything that anyone owns in District Thirteen is some shade of grey.

After I was done changing, Prim and I walked out together towards the dinning hall. The dinning hall was huge, and was filled with long rows of tables and chairs; however, since

District Thirteen is so large, everyone is split into three different sections to eat. Prim, my mother, and I were put into the second time slot to eat. Haymitch also was put inside section

two, but since he's needed so much in Command, he eats there more than not.

Prim and I walked over to one of the thirty-two counters. Every family was given a counter number. Each counter was in charge of making and portioning the meals for the families

assigned to them. Our counter was number fifteen.

Once we reached counter fifteen, one of the workers looked at us and asked, "Identifications numbers please."

Every single person inside of District Thirteen was given an identification number, or more commonly known as an IDN. We have to enter them on electronic pads before we received

our foods, before we entered the hospital, before we started training, and etc. In short, it was a way for the higher ups in District Thirteen to keep track of where we all go, and what we


I roughly stamp my number into the key pad before I hand it to Prim. She takes it from me and delicately types her seven digit number in, and then she hit the enter button.

The server looks at a screen inside of the counter that we can't see, and then looks back at us and says in a monotone voice, "Welcome Katniss and Primrose Everdeen. Your food trays

are number sixty-seven and number sixty-eight." And with that she motions us to get out of her way so that she can help the next few people in line.

The two of us then walk a few feet to a large steel wall, and on the steel wall there is a steel door about the size of an oven door. Next to the door is another key pad, and there we type

in our tray numbers. Once we finish, there is a beep, and then the door opens with our trays of food inside. Everything in District Thirteen is like this: It is cold, in-personable, and


After we receive our food, Prim and I find where my mom is and we sit down with us. She seems to be a third of the way done with her powder scramble egg meal when she looks at

us. She gives us both a small smile, which seems like a full out grin here in black Thirteen, and motions us to sit down next to her. Barely anyone smiles here, and when they do it

seems so forced. But who can blame them? I can't remember the last time I actually grinned because I was truly happy. Actually, yes I can. It was on the beach during the Quarter

Quell, I was lying there with Peeta…

Peeta. I wonder how you are doing?

It is beyond ironic that I find myself wishing to be back inside the games… Yet I wouldn't just be inside the games, I'd also be inside Peeta's arms - hiding away from all the nightmares

that wish to break me.

Once we sit down next to my mom, we begin making small talk. After about eight minutes of this, my mom looks at me with a cautious look on her face. I can see the hesitation in her

eyes before she opens her mouth and says, "Katniss," I can now hear the caution and hesitation in her voice, "Katniss, Haymitch asked me to tell you to go to the Command after

breakfast. They have something they want to discuss about Peeta with you."

At the mention of his name, my head snaps up and I look straight into my mother's eyes.

"Is there something wrong with him? Did something more happen? Is he ok?" I almost scream at my mother.

"I have no idea, honey. All I know is that they want to talk to you, that's it." She tells me honestly.

I just nod my head, we go back to having random conversations. I soon catch myself unconsciously eating faster and faster, and then in a moment my food is all gone. Once I finished,

I placed my tray, dinning-ware, and plates inside a bin, and then I start to walk quickly towards the Command.

Please let Peeta be ok. Please. Please. Please.

I think to myself as I make my way towards the elevator. When I'm done waiting impatiently for some people to clear out, I rush inside the elevator and slam my hand on the button

number 23. I then type in my IDM code, and off the elevator goes. I begin to pass in nervous circles inside the elevator. The last time they told me about Peeta, they said that he had

sustained several severe injuries from the forcefield's explosion. They told me he had to stay inside the ICU of District Thirteen's hospital until further notice. It has now been four weeks

since the explosion, and I still haven't been allowed to visit him.

As soon as I reach the command room, I punch in my IDM, and then I slammed open the door and shouted, "IS PEETA OK?"

Everyone inside must have not been expecting me yet, because half of the appear to have almost jumped out of their skin. The only one without a surprised expression is of course,

Haymitch. After he got over his momentary state of shock and confusion, Plutarch Heavensbee walked over to be, and then led me to a chair. I took my seat and stared between him

and Haymitch with expectant eyes.

"Well…?" I asked after the silence began to drive me crazy, "How is Peeta? Please don't tell me he's still in critical condition."

I saw Plutarch give an audible sigh before her looked at me with apologetic eyes.

"That's the thing Katniss," he began, the uneasiness in his voice worried me, "We don't really know, right now, what… What Peeta's condition is."


"W-what?" I asked, completely and utterly confused.

Plutarch just shook his head and looked at me, and said, "Like I said, we really don't know how Peeta is… Or what's happening to him."

"How can you not know?" I asked dumbfoundedly, "He's here. In District Thirteen's hospital. What are you talking about?"

At my words I noticed almost everyone in the room, including Gale, to visibly grimace.

"What's going on?" I finally ask, after an awkward silence.

"Listen here, Katniss," Haymitch says, "Peeta isn't here, in District Thirteen."

"What?" I asked, with even more confusion.

Plutarch then takes a breath in and say, "Katniss, we never rescued Peeta. The day the arena was destroyed, we rescued you; unfortunately, before we could save Peeta… The capitol

had already seized him."

I felt my eyes go wide, my mind race around inside my head, and my mouth drop wide open.

"S-so.. You l-lied to me?" I barely manage to squeak out.

"I'm so sorry Katniss," Plutarch admits.

And that's when I snap. I dive viciously into the closer person next to me, and start slamming his head into the ground. This person turned out to be Gale. But I don't care. He betrayed

me. He lied to me. My own best friend.

I keep up my merciless assault. before I feel a quick, sharp pain in my arm. The last thing I see before I black out is a syringe.

It has now been nine days, eighteen hours, and thirty-some minutes since my beloved peace keeping friends switched the interrogation techniques. I now find myself longing for the

days when they would just impolitely punch or kick my body, but now they are becoming more creative. I clutch my knees to my chest as I sit, my back against the wall and my head

hanging low. It's been barely over one week, but my body already protests any small movements that I make.

I haven't tried to look yet, but I am unfortunately positive that by back is absolutely black and blue. I'm also positive that my back is covered in different shapes and imprints, that were

left from various tools and instruments. Both of my arms are almost smothered with cuts from all sorts of knives and blades. But so far, all of the injuries have been superficial. As long

as I can stand through the pain, and remember that my body isn't at too much risk, I will be able to pull through.

Just need to keep thinking about why I must stay strong. I tell myself. And if it gets too bad… i can always just lie. Right?

I hear the sound of metal making a "click" and then I hear the door to my cell open with a creak. I hesitantly lift my head, and I immediately regret it. My eyes focus in on a pair of

wires attached to a pair of sinister looking clamps. Confused, I allow my eyes to follow the wires; at the other end of them is a box, not much larger than the size of an average shoe

box. At that moment, it was as if my mind was smacked, hard, with a boulder, when I realized what was going to happen.

I began to mentally panic.

My mind started racing to find the words I could say, words that could get me out of this predicament. But I knew better. The only words that could help me escape the upcoming pain…

I didn't know. I can almost taste the bitter irony that, Peeta Mellark, the boy that can easily manipulate anyone to do anything with words, is in a situation that can all end with a few

muttered phrases.

If only… If only I knew even the tinniest amount of information about District Thirteen! Then I would most likely be able to spin up a well-conceived and believable lie. A lie that could

get me out of this cell of solitary, and maybe into a sell with Johanna Mason. She got lucky. Since she wasn't part of the 74th Hunger Games, they suspected that she would know far

less than me about the revolution.

What a joke.

I have never asked. But, I know. I know she knows something about the rebels and Thirteen.

And then for the second time today, I am hit with another painful realization. The rebels, District Thirteen, Haymitch… They all already knew!

They already knew. They already knew. They all already knew.

All of them knew that because I was part of the nightlock berry episode, the Capital would think that I had a much bigger hand in helping with the revolution.

Peeta Mellark selflessly volunteered to take Haymitch Abernathy's place in the third Quarter Quell.

How suspicious that sounds! The two people, although mostly Katniss, who practically gave the finger to the Capital in the previous games, were both alive for when the force field blew

up. They must have believed that I had been apart of that plan all along. And why, oh why would anyone suspect Johanna Mason? That poor girl just had to have the bad luck of being

reaped again. She wouldn't know ANYTHING. How sick and twisted is that? The Capital probably thinks that she just knows the bare minimum of the revolution. So why should they lock

her in solitary confinement?

The District Thirteen officials had already guessed that this is how the Capital would think. They have been used me long before I ever would have known that Thirteen still existed, and

they are still continuing to use me. I am the escape goat. They probably purposefully left me for the Capital to take, that way they can focus on extracting information, that I do not

know, from me instead of them focussing on Johanna.

They didn't forget me. How could they forget to save me if they never meant to rescue me? I can almost taste the betrayal in my own mind.

Me being here, is all part of a well thought out plan.

I then feel one of the peace keepers wrap a metal brace around each of my wrists. The braces have medium sized metal rings jutting out of them. After the braces are secured, they lift

me onto a wooden chair, and then secure me onto it with several ropes.

One of the peace keeper then lowers her head closer to mine and says in a sickly sweet voice, "Now Peeta, I know you're tired of us hurting you, and believe me, we are tired of hurting

you. Why don't you make it easier for everyone, and just tell us what we want to know? Just say the right words and all of this can end." She then replaced her concerned look with a

sadistic smile, "But then again… If you decide to continue to be difficult. We will just have to try… Other methods."

"I… I've told you before. I… I know nothing… Nothing about District Thirteen. I… I promise. I am a dead end," I sputter out shakily.

"Well that's too bad. We don't really believe you. Loverboy," She replies.

That nickname pierces my heart with my knife. It reminded me of the time when the Capital manipulated my life and used me. I only have slight satisfaction, knowing they can no

longer bend and twist my life. Then I remembered. I remembered that that's District Thirteen's job now.

And that's when the clamps, that are attached to the wires, are envelope the metal circles on the braces. My body involuntarily begins to thrash, trying to break free; of course, i

already know, it's futile. I look back towards the peace keepers, and they both have little smirks plastered on their faces. The man turns a knob, and then pushes a blue button.

In an instant, I feel the sensation of pain, and witness my entire body uncontrollably shudder and convulse from the electricity. Then I black out.

And that's it for chapter one. What did you think? Please review and let me know. Right now I'm keeping Peeta's torture on the DL, but in the next chapter I might get more descriptive. So just a small warning.