I couldn't force myself to watch the opening ceremonies, find out the training scores, or even watch interviews. I stayed locked up in Mags's library and let my tears go and zombishly walk to Finnick's house and take care of the cats and Moku better than I was taking care of myself and go to my dad's house and play the piano and sleep at Lucas's or Phoebe's. I did regret not watching the interviews when Lucas told me what had happened.
"All the tributes joined hands, like, they were banning together against the Capitol - it was totally badass! They cut away from them like, after five seconds, as if they were hoping nobody had noticed, but obviously everyone saw it. Everyone who mattered."
"What Lucas means," Phoebe interjected, giving him a bit of a look, "Is that during Finnick's interview, he recited this poem he wrote and it was obviously for you, Annie! But you should've seen it, he didn't specifically say your name, so they cut to shots of all these women and they were totally freaking out and crying. They all thought it was for them, the idiots." I managed a smile, and she took a big breath.
Lucas gave me a hug, sighing. "I know it's tough. Seeing him there again." I nodded, hugging him back. He pulled Phoebe into the hug, too, and she wrapped her arms around me, as well.
After we had dinner together, I went back to Finnick's and my house, setting out two bowls of food for the cats and went to close the window in our room before Moku fluttered back in through the window and landed on my shoulder, bumping my cheek with his little nose. I petted his head with a finger then lifted him back off, letting him fly again. A basket of clean laundry still sat on the floor by the foot of the bed. A shirt of Finnick's was hung on one of the poles of the bed frame. It felt empty. Without him there, it didn't feel like home. Without a word, I slipped the shirt on over the one I was already wearing and laid down, surrounded in the scent of his cologne.
I must've fallen asleep sometime, and I guess I was exhausted, because I didn't have nightmares; I only woke up when there was a pounding coming from the door downstairs. I stumbled down and opening the door, finding myself coming face to face with Peacekeepers.
"Um..." I yawned. "Can I help you with something?"
"You can come with us." They replied, and before I could make any sort of retort, two of them grabbed my arms and I was still so dazed from sleep that I hardly had a valid argument to put forward on why they shouldn't take me away. We were out of the Village and nearing the train station before I finally started to fight back, kicking at their shins and yelling. The sky was still pink and nobody was out and about yet - no-one was around to hear me.
The train doors slid shut and we began to move, already in pursuit of the Capitol.
I was shoved into a compartment by myself and my head hit a hard backboard on a bench. Feeling the back of my head, I could already feel a goose egg forming and there was just a touch of warm, wet blood trickling down and soaking into my shirt.
It might have been my imagination, but the trip felt much longer than usual. Maybe because I hadn't been in awhile, or maybe because we were going slower, or maybe because I was alone - I don't know. All I knew was that I wanted someone - anyone who wasn't trying to hurt me or capture me - to talk to and to tell me what was going on. Because I couldn't answer that question myself.
When they came and got me again, I was too worn out to fight their already superior strength and I let them walk me down to what I supposed were probably prison cells. They slammed the metal door shut and I heard it lock, and then there was silence.
Somewhere, like from a distance, I eventually heard crying. Crying that didn't stop, and only when I told them to stop crying, I realized it was me. I made myself stop, having annoyed even myself, and I unbuttoned the flannel shirt I'd found back at the house, slipping it off and pressing it onto my face, letting it soak up the rest of my tears.
For the rest of what I assumed was the night, I sat there in solitude, feeling hunger pains creep up on me. There was no movement to be heard in the floors above me, aside from the occasional door opening and closing.
I didn't sleep the whole night. When floorboards started creaking from above again, I got up on shaky legs, trying to peek through the opening in the door. I wasn't quite tall enough to reach it. As I was climbing the door to be able to, it swung open, knocking me back to the ground. I took a sharp breath and rubbed my tailbone, glaring at the guard who had come through the doorway. He was a scrawny thing, an Adam's apple jutting out from his throat, legs and arms like a stick figure's. His eyes went wide when he saw me and he threw a tray down with assorted table scraps on it. I crawled to it cautiously, taking a crumb of food from it and licked my finger, tasting it carefully. He glanced over his shoulder, his expression nervous, and looked at me, a bit panicked.
By the way he wasn't speaking, at first I thought he might be an Avox, but he wasn't in the right getup. He was definitely a guard. As I continued eating, he slowly pulled the tray away as I cleaned it off. The moment the last crumb was gone, he yanked the tray away, running to the other side of the cell and jumped a couple feet off the ground, vaulting and flinging the tray through the barred window at the top edge of the cell, and just as quickly he left, pulling the door shut and locking it.
I sat in a state of shock, staring after him and shaking my head.
Maybe an hour later, a different guard came around and grabbed my wrist, pulling me out of the cell and into a white room. I sat at the chair and for what seemed like hours, they asked me questions. Questions about Finnick and me and Four and the Quell, but I didn't know what to tell them. When they figured out I didn't have much to say, before I could argue they shot a needle into my arm filled with a liquid, and almost immediately I felt woozy.
A minute later, they started asking more detailed questions, to which I can't quite remember what I answered. In fact, I don't remember a lot after they shot that medicine into my arm, but when I came to again, I was in my cell, wrapped in a white bed sheet, my clothes in a disorderly pile in the corner of the room.
I had no way of knowing how long I'd been out, but along with my clothes, there was a pile of crumbs, an odd smell emitting from the pile. From the pinkish light coming from the small window high above, I could tell it was coming up on dawn. Maybe the boy would be back and he could explain some things to me.
But instead of him coming down with a tray of food, he was shoved into my cell with me, the tray being yanked from his hands. The door slammed shut, and we both heard it lock.