Stage 2: On the Rack

I'm grabbed by the arms. I hear a metallic groan and suddenly the pressure that has been weighing on my body is gone. I didn't even realize it was there until now. I'm jerked out of my bed. A new dream, almost worse than reality. It's still dark, I can't even see the people holding me. How can they see me?

It's only when my feet hit the ground and they're too weak to support my own weight that I realize that maybe this isn't a dream after all. My hands barely cushion the fall and my jaw slams into the hard, cold ground. A whole new pain shoots up my spine and an exhausted moan escapes my throat. I'm too weak to raise my head, so I just lie there, let them pick me up, after all, they want something from me.

In fact, I then feel their fingers digging into my upper arms and roughly forcing me to my feet. I try to sit up, but given my condition it's impossible. Cold rushes through my limbs, but this time it's my own body trying to spare me this. When my head hits the ground this time, I feel nothing. Only a dull thud can be heard, which is lost in the darkness.

oOo

The pressure on my back increases. I hear a choked rumble; it feels like I'm about to stagger and lose my balance. A hand grabs my shoulder and tugs. I finally manage to open my eyes and the next moment I'm screaming in pain because the light is so incredibly bright. So bright, I can't remember any color other than black.

It hurts so incredibly, and yet I feel this relief spreading through my body. Hot tears run down my cheeks and I wipe them away with my hand.

Then I try to open my eyes a second time, slowly this time. The light burns my eyes, it makes them water and I have to clench my teeth not to gasp again. It takes a long time before I lean forward with a sigh and open my eyes properly. The light is still blinding, like the sun blinds you when you leave the dark house on a bright summer day.

Then I look up, squint, and see a figure sitting across from me. I'm sitting too, my fingers clinging to the seat. I'm rocking my head. Now that the pain in my eyes is bearable, every pounding in my head brings me a little closer to passing out. I haven't slept in forever.

"Have you finally caught grip on yourself, moppet?" comes from the man opposite. His dark eyes stare at me. But if he went away and came back in five minutes, I certainly wouldn't be able to remember him. His features are blurred, everything around me is blurry. My eyes don't have the strength to make things clear.

I don't like the tone of his voice and certainly not the fact that he gives me pet names. With the last reserves of strength I carry, I raise my head defiantly and pretend I can see him clearly. "With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?" I ask, wanting to ask, but no sound comes out of my throat. My throat is as dry as sandpaper. The next moment I have to cough for fear of choking. I try to wet my throat by swallowing, but it doesn't help much.

The man across from me hands me something, without thinking much about it I reach for it. It's a bottle with liquid inside, which quickly turns out to be water as I dump it down and drink it greedily. When the last drop has run down my throat, I drop the bottle from my lips and look at him. Why did he give me something to drink?

This time I clear my throat before straining my vocal cords. "Thank you." My voice sounds more uncertain than I was hoping.

He doesn't answer, he just takes the bottle back and puts it on the floor. "You will be assigned a room where you can sleep," he says after a while. He is perfectly calm and his voice is steady. "We'll see each other again tomorrow."

oOo

They really let me sleep and I'm starting to think I might get out of here after all. They might question me one last time and then let me go.

Still, I didn't sleep much. I can control the light in my room myself, but as soon as I close my eyes, the darkness returns. Luckily for me, my body is far too tired to dream. But also too tired to eat. They bring me something, but I can't eat a bite. I still feel dizzy.

At some point, Peacekeepers pick me up. I can see clearly now, but the headache has not improved. I still feel like my temple is about to explode. But you get used to the pain just like you get used to any pain.

They are no classic Peacekeepers like in the districts. They wear different uniforms but as soon as you see them you just know they are Peacekeepers.

They take me to the same room as a few hours ago. Or days? I've lost my sense of time. I sit down again. I don't know if the man across from me is the same as yesterday. Only when he speaks is my suspicion confirmed. "You look better than yesterday, moppet," he says. "Nevertheless, they should have given you a longer break. I don't know if I can work with you in this state."

I don't understand a word of what he says. All I know is that I don't like the fact that he addresses me so informally. As if we knew each other or were friends. He's invading my privacy like he has the right to.

When I don't answer, he smiles kindly. Now that I can really look at him, I see that he must be around fifty if not younger. The age starts to show, but the activity as a Peacekeeper seems to have done his skin a favor. He has a square face, and when he smiles you can see a gap between his front incisors. I try to suppress my shuddering as much as possible. I don't really know what to think of him. So far, my opinion of him is pretty neutral, even if I don't like the way he talks to me.

"Well, Effie, we're going to be around each other for quite a while, so I think it would only be appropriate if you knew my name. After all, I know yours too. I'm Adrian. Until yesterday you were kept in a special room." He, Adrian, pauses briefly to give me time to remember. It hurts and I feel a small surge of panic, but I can suppress it. I lean back in the chair and clench my sweaty hands into fists. "How long do you think you were there?"

My tension doesn't let up one bit, and yet I'm asking myself this question. I could count at first, but there was no connection to the outside world, so I could only guess. And the longer I was trapped there, the longer the time finally seemed to me.

I take my time with my answer and Adrian doesn't push me. "Two months?"

His face doesn't grimace a bit, I can't read anything, so I wait for him to take his eyes off the datapad in his hand and look at me. "Two months," he seems to be rolling the words on his tongue, looking like he's thinking. "No, it hasn't been two months, Effie. It has been two weeks."

I stare at him in amazement. Two weeks? No, never, it seemed unbearably long to me ...

"I know it's confusing at first, but two months? We couldn't afford that, let's be realistic. Almost three weeks ago, the victors fled the arena. There's a war going on and you're too important to just let you rot somewhere for two whole months," Adrian explains openly, as if everything made perfect sense.

His words send chills down my spine. There's a war going on and you're too important to just let you rot somewhere for two whole months. The hope of this morning fizzles out on the spot. They won't let me go, they'll only make things worse.

I'm unable to say anything, the panic is taking over again. So I just stare at him like a wounded animal.

"I'm going to ask you questions now and it would be easiest for you if you just answered them. That would save us quite a bit ... of time, you know?" His eyes study me intently.

I nod. The blood is pounding in my ears, all I can hear is a rushing sound.

"When was the last time you saw Haymitch Abernathy?"

I take a deep breath. I don't know why it is such a shock to hear his name and yet it paralyzes me. "The night Katniss destroyed the force field," I say slowly, my voice shaking, I have to keep it under control!

Adrian doesn't study my every move like Corporal Cullen did. He doesn't seem to care as much about what I say as he doesn't dig deeper into the details. "Where's Haymitch now?"

"I don't know," I answer honestly. "Corporal Cullen told me he fled with the rebels."

"Yes, he did, but that's not what I meant," remarks Adrian, looking at me with a small smile. "I asked, where are the rebels?"

I shrug. "I don't know."

Adrian nods and his smile disappears. "Effie, go inside of you, think hard about the question again. Where's Haymitch? Where are the rebels?"

How should I know? Haymitch never discussed such things with me, let alone even remotely mentioned them. "I really do not know it."

"Certainly?"

"Yes, damn it," I snap at him, wincing at the same time because my head hurts.

"Everything's fine," says Adrian, raising his hands in a soothing manner. "It's fine, I believe you. Unfortunately that's not enough. My bosses want answers and they won't settle for that."

I look at him questioningly. "What does that mean?"

"That means we have to hurt you to make sure you haven't been hiding something from us," he says, placing the datapad on the table. At the same moment, the door opens and Cullen stands in front of me. He nods in my direction.

"Bring her to Sector Seven."

oOo

Sector 7, as it turns out, is nothing more than the part of the prison where the inmates are tortured. It is huge and divided into several areas depending on the torture. I assume so, because there are different tools in each area. There are cells here as well, and I notice that I've already spent the last two weeks in this very sector. We pass areas that consist only of living quarters, so they sometimes have to torture the inmates in their own cells.

The Peacekeepers drag me through worn-out corridors to a metal door that groans open when a code is punched into the wall. It's one of those corridors where cell after cell is lined up and I'm hoping that maybe they'll just leave me alone.

But when they drag me in and Adrian follows us, my throat tightens. They force my body against the opposite wall and twist my hands behind my back to handcuff me. My face is also pressed against the wall and I can feel the eerie cold pressing against my cheek. For a moment I wonder how thick the wall is and whether there is another living being a few centimeters away who might be experiencing the same fate as me.

But the thought is immediately forgotten as they pull me around. I expect the worst, but they do nothing but screw the handcuffs to a hook on the wall. I push myself against the wall and tug at my hands, but they've chained me properly. There's no way I can tear myself away.

And only now do I realize how defenseless I'm standing here in front of them. Hands tied behind my back, no way to defend myself. I can't take a step in any direction. My heart starts racing and I look nervously at Adrian, who pushes a chair into the room and sits down two meters in front of me. The Peacekeepers position themselves behind him. I wish I could see their faces, to see in their eyes if they also enjoy doing this.

"Well," Adrian begins, examining me more closely this time. "I can imagine how unpleasant your situation must be right now. So I still suggest that you pull yourself together and tell the truth. Because only the truth alone can save you from this situation."

I stare at him wordlessly, wondering if he really thinks I'm hiding something or if he just has orders to do so. Then I lower my eyes to the ground and lean forward.

"Where are the rebels?" His voice sounds almost bored, as if he knows what my answer will be.

I hesitate and think about the evening. It was a goodbye kiss because he knew he might never see me again. Because he knew I would probably die down here. I don't raise my head as I answer. "I don't know."

Silence. Adrian says nothing. I can only see out of the corner of my eye how he turns his head to the side.

A bang follows, knocking me aside. My head hits the concrete of the wall with full force, and I fly so hard to the side that my skin gets torn apart sideways of the handcuffs. Only then do I feel the tremendous pain in my left cheek and hear the loud beeping in my ear.

As if I knew what was in store for me, I duck to the side and press my lips together so as not to make a sound. It's useless. The Peacekeeper grabs my neck and pulls me forward to hit me on the cheek a second time with his right hand.

I want to kick him, but he's so large he lifts me off the ground and I lose my balance. As soon as he hits me, he drops me and I fall to the ground. My hands are still tied, so my arms are twisting while the rest of my body is hanging by the shackles. My knees touch the ground, I try to get hold of my feet, but the pain is so bad I fear I've broken my arm. If not both.

I try to get up, but I can't. My arms only hurt more when I try to get up and go back to the old position. So I stay in the crouch and lower my head again. I can feel the hot tears running down my face, but I can't help it. I can't even wipe them away with my hands.

When the Peacekeeper takes a step towards me again, I can guess what's in store for me. He grabs my shoulders and pulls me up. I scream, the pain in my arms is unbearable. My feet kick at him, but the uniform makes him untouchable. It probably hurt me more than it did him.

I resist his touch, trying to escape, but there is no escape for an inexperienced tribute standing in front of an armed killer. I have my back against the wall. I lost.

The bones in my arms crack and my head shoots up, gasping for air. I bite my tongue in pain and soon taste blood in my mouth. In the next moment I feel the ground under my feet and then, surprisingly, the hands come off my shoulders.

Astonished, I stop and look at the Peacekeeper, who backs away from me and positions himself behind Adrian again. My gaze wanders questioningly to Adrian. He hesitates, his facial features show a frightened man who is at a loss for words. But his eyes reveal indifference and malicious amusement. I stand before him like a beaten dog before its tormentor.

His eyes focus on the datapad in his hands. He sighs once and then raises his head again. The played pity from just gone. "What do the rebels have planned next?"

He asks me a lot of such questions. Questions that I can't answer because I don't even know who the rebels are. But nobody cares. It seems to me that they really enjoy hitting, kicking and choking me. They don't really care about my answers.

When they've had enough, they leave my cell, but come back every day. In the beginning they leave me chained after each session. When they come back, my limbs are still and rigid. The pain in this condition is even worse than usual.

Usual. Like I got used to the pain. I used to tell myself that you get used to any pain. But then I didn't know such pain. You can't get used to such pain.

oOo

At some point they untie me from the wall, probably because they think I wouldn't defend myself against them anyway. They're right, because I don't.

I often think about Haymitch again. Whether he's alive and what he's doing right now and whether he thinks of me from time to time. I used to always feel a connection to him because I felt partly responsible for him, but now I don't feel that kind of thing anymore. That's probably because I don't know where he is. I don't know how many walls or even districts separate us.

Such thoughts should sadden me, but they don't, because I realized a long time ago that Haymitch Abernathy was not a man to be trusted. On the contrary, one shouldn't do that. Look where it got me, I think then. There's no point in mourning for him because he wouldn't do it for me.

The only memory that confuses me is the kiss. He knew he would be gone. He knew a war would break out. I was under the belief that after those Games I would never see him again because I would be stepping down from escort duty. I didn't know it would all end in chaos. He knew they would lock me up and torture me. And yet he kissed me. He didn't have to kiss me. So it must have had a meaning, right?

When I close my eyes, I see him standing in front of me in the training center. The sad smile on his lips. "Remember, this is the truth." His words.

This is the truth. What did he mean by that? The kiss? Could he have meant the kiss seriously? Is there a chance that he might not have handed me over to the Capitol in total cold blood after all?

I just looked at him questioningly that night because I was too tired to understand. He then waved it off. If I had followed up, he might have told me about it, he would have told me something. I wouldn't be left in the dark like I am now.

Although that's not entirely true. He said something at the end. Something I haven't realized or paid attention to before. We will see each other again soon.

A frustrated sound escapes my throat. I'm lying on the freezing cold floor of my cell, but that doesn't bother me. It feels good. The ground cools the numerous wounds and bruises that adorn my body. Some have already started to fester, others are sore.

I don't do much, most of the time I just lie on the floor because every movement hurts. I close my eyes and try to sleep, but instead of sleep I mostly drift into my thoughts that won't stop spinning around in my head.

We will see each other again soon. Haymitch's last words. Was he really that sure? I doubt it. He probably doubted it himself.

-

A rather depressing chapter. See you next week.

Skyllen