My Mockingjay (Hunger Games) *The Writing Games*

"What is going on!" I scream at the top of my lungs. If Snow did anything to Katniss I swear he will pay. "Your little montage has played out long enough, Mr. Mellark. Your significant other has seemed to set fire to our arena, and our society." He smirks, showing off a set of blood red teeth. I yank on my chains once again. "What do you mean?" I grunt at the force of the restraints holding my body to the cold metal chair beneath me. "Ms. Everdeen has started a war, and is somewhere in another District. As for yours, well, she couldn't be there," He laughs, and I know what he means. The uprising has started, Katniss escaped the arena, and I am in the Capitol at the mercy of President Snow.


1. Captured

There was turmoil in the 75th Hunger Games. The dome; cracked. Helicopters, friend and foe, flew around the arena, searching, always searching. But searching for what? They looked like bees in the night air. The wings were the rotors, the buzzing was guns. Amidst the destruction, nobody seemed to notice the small, black helicopter that was slowly spiraling down above two figures.


"Peeta!" Katniss's voice rips through the cool night air. I frantically slash through the thick green with my only knife. The only thing propelling me forward is our desperation for each other. She needs my help, and I need to know she's safe. I can't comprehend anything except her. Our memories, of course all filled with sadness. We were holding on to each other for more than comfort. For hope, and safety. I have failed to give her that satisfaction. I told her I would always stay with her, and now, in the one moment she needs me rather than herself, I am not there. I curse at my plastic contraption of a leg, which has caused so much damage already. Mags would be alive, and I could get to my Katniss, if only I hadn't been such a fool around Cato. If only I hadn't been such a fool...

A loud crash from Katniss's direction, sends me flailing backward off my feet. The wind is knocked out of my lungs, but I stand again anyway, doing my best to force my aching feet towards her. Towrds my only relief, my everything, my life; she's standing right there, and I can't reach her. The thought of losing her sends bile to my mouth and a sinking feeling in my stomach. She's sinking out of me, and I can't stop it.

 When I look up, the huge tree that used to absorb the shock of the lightning is burning with light. Midnight. Lightning. The wire. Katniss. She's by that tree. No, no. The sinking becomes reality as I know she is probably dead from shock. My life is being drained from me.

"Katniss!" I know she can't hear my failing voice, so I scream it to myself instead. I need to keep moving. I don't know where anyone else is, but it doesn't seem to process in my mind. The only thing and everything I care about is the girl on fire. I don't want to lose the girl on fire.

All of a sudden I'm on my back again, my lungs failing to fill with air. The sky is a dome of sparks, flying at me from all directions. I give up dodging them, and let their tiny surges of heat and energy hit my sweat soaked body.  A lone arrow, attached to a white hot wire comes down with the sparks. Katniss's arrow. Katniss shot the dome. I feel consoled and terrorized at the same time. She's alive, but for how long until the shock comes back. She shot that arrow, that is the only thing that is certain. She knows I can't live without her, and again she presents herself to the demon that is death. Again, the sinking worsens. I feel as heavy as bricks, pushing against life. The atmosphere is trying to burry me in the hard earth as if I already died. I suppose, I have. To accept death is to give up life. Katniss has accepted death, and that means I have too.

I don't realize I'm not breathing until I wake up in my old training center room.


Snow stands in front of my bed, watching my every move, my every breath. All of my actions, thoughts, even beliefs, are in his position- and he knows it.

My head flies from side to side, searching for anything to tell me this is just a dream. To tell me my life Is not as broken as I had thought.

The snake that once seemed all powerful and collected is now my worst enemy. A smirk of satisfaction spreads across his face as smooth as glass. He's done this many times.

"Hello Peeta, we haven't had a chance to talk since the Victory Tour celebration. How are you?" He's playing me, he's trying to sympathize so he can kill everyone I love. Love. Hah. I'm not sure I love anyone at this point. Is it possible to love when I have seen death? When I have thought about killing? There is only one other person who-

"Where is she!?"
I rage, sitting straight up in my bed. Every aspect of my body screams she's dead, but I'm not known to listening to what I'm told. Once again, the only thing in my mind is Katniss. Such a small name, but somehow it seems to consume every part of me on instinct.

 A few tubes are hooked to my arm, but I yank then out without flinching. Adrenaline courses through me like acid, and heat rises up from my chest to the rest of my body. I can't feel it, but I know the sinking has made a reappearance.

"There will be plenty of time for talk. Onyx, take him to the interrogation room." A large figure, a man, emerges from the darkest corner of the room. Before trying to wrestle me into his grip, he switches on the window's imaging center from the remote on my bedside table. As he thumbed  it, I had no idea that the image on the screen would haunt me forever. No idea that it would tear my world to shreds. In that moment, I was completely and utterly assured that Snow was evil. Purely, purely, evil. He pressed the button. And then, on screen, I saw my district burn to ashes alone with people frantically searching for any sign of safety, hope, anything to revive them. All those things we once thought brought happiness swallowed up by fear itself.

Katniss is momentarily stifled in the back of my brain. Although I have tried this several times, I know she will make a reappearance. She always does.

My family, my everything, gone. Thousands probably dead from the infinite burning. I think back to all the News Casts about the progress of the remainder of Thirteen. The smoking of the nuclear bombs that went off exactly seventy five years ago. All the destruction caused by the ignorance of the District livers. They thought they could beat the Capitol, and started war that has killed innocent children ever since. Not to mention all that could have been avoided if they would've just stayed quiet.

All this races through my mind in a matter of seconds. There should have never been war in the first place, and now we are recreating our own abolishment.

My body goes limp as the man Snow called Onyx stabs a needle in my side. The pain is sharp and instant. However painful, I am gone before I can make the picture of my family's Bakery tumbling down a reality.


Hey guys! I hope you like the story! And in case you didn't already notice, this is an entry for The Writing Games by Zoe Shadownight and other amazing authors! If you do like the story, please go to the Writing Games Movella and vote for this book! I would really appreciate it, however, if you don't think the story compares to others, feel free to vote for whomever you feel should win!


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