Rising Smoke

Peeta is left alone with President Snow- all of his friends are gone. He has no answers, no support and no word on if Katniss is safe.


1. Waking

I stumble up from the floor, balancing my weight on a pure white table, with a single white rose perched in the middle of it. I feel a pressure instantly burn into my neck; I can barely look down without a stabbing pain rushing through my blood. I can tell, though, that my clothes have changed. No longer am I bloody, and I am in an uncomfortable white suit decorated with white roses down the middle. My shoes fit perfectly, and I feel energised and a warmth seeps through my body. I can tell from the immaculate surroundings that I am nowhere near home.

Overhead, I see a small protector flickering. It shoots a beam to the wall, and a booming voice echoes throughout the room, bouncing off the walls and hitting my eardrums.

'Peeta. At last you have awoken from your slumber! I hope you enjoyed your time at the games. Now, I have little information on your precious mockingjay and her whereabouts but my boy, I will know soon, or my name is not President Snow! But I must quit the chat. Peeta you are the districts only hope. You are the only one out of the arena alive that we know of to date. Everyone else was electrocuted or crushed in the arena. Now, because of Katniss' fault, he spits, everyone is turning against the Capitol. And we all know how that will end. In death. You need to show these people hope and power, and that you still care and you are grateful to the Capitol. I know you will do me proud Peeta, even though you think you hate me, you don't. I saved you many times, I didn't kill you after the first time you crossed the line, I went along with the charades of your starstruck  lovers rubbish and I saved you. You owe me, and even if you think differently, I have a few certain people here that will help change your mind. Jupiter, bring them in!' His white, wrinkled face disappears, plastered with a sickening mischievous grin. Whatever he has planned, it is sure to be evil.

The doors swing open and my eyes flit to the people walking in. At once I see they are in rags and splattered with blood. Some are wailing as the guards force them mercilessly through the door. They are thrown down onto the cold floor, and kicked until they show their faces.

They all peer up, eyes popping out of their faces, cheekbones prominent. They lie together, shaking. Not one has dry eyes.

It hits me.

I am looking down onto my family.


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