Once Upon A Time

Is this person really Johanna? My ears might as well be playing tricks on me, and yet something in my gut tells me it's her. I crouch on the bed, frozen for a while, pressing my back against the cold wall of the cell. I'll wait for the Peacekeepers to leave the block. Or at least I wait until I can't hear their voices or footsteps.

With my eyes closed, I listen to the silence, trying to pick up every tiniest sound just to really make sure I'm right. The walls between the cells are too thick to be able to hear anything. The harder I try to listen, the louder the ringing in my ears gets. Nothing surrounds me but endless silence.

It takes me several tries before I actually call her name. They've destroyed my self-confidence down here and so I don't dare to just raise my voice anymore. Before, I wouldn't have hesitated to call out to someone. But the situation here is different.

I don't get an answer. I don't know if she just didn't hear or if she ignored it on purpose. Maybe it's not Johanna after all and the person behind the wall doesn't know that I called her. This time it takes less effort for me to open my mouth and call out her name. This time I make sure to be louder.

Silence follows again. I'm starting to think it's not Johanna Mason when someone answers me. "Who is it?" asks a gruff voice. Unfriendly as she tries to sound, she can't hide her deep exhaustion. And I'm right. It really is Johanna Mason. I don't know what to make of this fact. After all, it means nothing else but another soul I know suffering down here.

It makes perfect sense though. Johanna Mason is a victor herself and closer to Haymitch than many others. She must have known about it, she probably even went into the arena knowing about the rebellion. My throat tightens at the thought. I widen my eyes and sigh in bewilderment. Actually, Johanna should recognize me, me and my annoying voice.

"Honestly, I am a little disappointed that you don't recognize me," I say and try to smile. When was the last time I joked with someone, or at least tried to? "It's me, Effie Trinket."

Silence follows again and I wonder if she's cursing me for ending up in the cell next to her. In her mind, I'm still the Effie Trinket I was when she left us for the arena. But I'm not that person anymore.

"Damn," Johanna replies after a while. "Tell me this is just a fucking dream." Her voice sounds flat, as if she's genuinely surprised at this turn of events. I open my mouth to reply when suddenly she starts sobbing. It's just a short sob and yet I hear it. And then I get scared. If Johanna Mason starts crying in my presence, then something is going terribly wrong.

I don't know what to answer or if I should say anything at all. Johanna and I found each other down here in this hole of death. What are the odds of us both getting out of here alive? Now that I know she was here with me the whole time, I just won't be able to leave without her. If she dies down here, a part of me will die too, because I know she's been through at least as much agony as I have.

My voice trembles as I put the question on my mind into words. "How long have you been here?"

"Since the end of the Games," she replies in a distant tone, as if remembering. "They caught us when the rebels tried to free us from the arena."

It's not the first time I've heard that the rebels have rescued some tributes, including Katniss, from the arena. However, hearing it out of her mouth seems to make it all more real. Apparently the rebels didn't manage to free everyone. "Me too, roughly. They arrested me at the penthouse a few hours later."

"I can't believe you're really here," Johanna bursts out after several minutes of silence. "I just don't get how the Capitol doll survived all of this." She sounds genuinely surprised, but there's a darker tone to her words.

A twisted laugh escapes my throat and I stare at the ceiling. I would have liked to have answered that I'm stronger than I look. But it doesn't want to get off my lips. Instead, I feel hot tears rolling down my cheeks. Ashamed, I close my eyes and wish myself back to the times when I used to get upset when Johanna called me pet names like Capitol doll.

"This is all wrong," Johanna murmurs so loudly that I can just barely understand her. I have a feeling she's feeling the same as me right now. "Things shouldn't have turned out this way."

Her words make me prick up my ears. I hesitantly sit up in my bed. I stare through the darkness with wide eyes. "What did you just say?" I ask almost flustered. "What did you mean by that?"

But Johanna doesn't give me an answer. Instead, she changes the subject. "Annie Cresta is here too, did you know that?"

Annie Cresta? I feel a pang in my heart. She's the woman Finnick loves more than anything in the world. She's the girl so traumatized by her own Hunger Games that she shies away from anything that remotely reminds her of the arena. She wouldn't survive a day down here, I think to myself. "No, I didn't know that," I answer as calmly as possible. I don't want her to notice my panic. "Is she in one of these cells, too?"

"No," says Johanna, and I can almost see her shaking her head theatrically. "I only saw her at the very beginning when they brought all of us here. No sign of life since then." She probably doesn't believe it either. "Peeta's here, too." She detonates the bomb like she doesn't know it's a bomb.

I'm on my feet in less than a second. I didn't even know I still had reflexes like that. "Peeta?" I catch my breath and feel the surge of panic trying to work its way through my limbs. I try to stay calm, try to hold back the fear in my chest.

"He was in your cell for a while, paradoxically, wasn't it? But compared to me, they took him on even worse. Because of Katniss. Eventually it got so bad that they had to move him. At some point they just took him out of his cell as usual, but he never came back."

I press my lips together to keep from sobbing out loud. My poor poor Peeta. Peeta, who has such a good heart who would never harm a fly. Peeta being sent into the arena to kill people, who didn't have the heart to do it and still survived. Because of Katniss.

"He's here for Katniss," I murmur, cracking my knuckles. "As I'm here for him."

"You got it," she replies as hard as she can. "But don't worry about Peeta. Better worry about yourself. You need your energy."

"What did you mean when you said things shouldn't have turned out this way?" My voice sounds like a pile of broken glass being stomped on. I swallow trying to wet my throat, but it only seems to be getting drier.

Johanna doesn't answer my question. She doesn't say anything after that. Instead, I listen to the silence hoping to hear something. The noise in my ears is the only thing I notice until I eventually fall asleep.

oOo

My entire body flinches, jerking me out of my sleep. It's the metallic squeak of a cell door. Realizing it's not mine, I collapse on the bed with relief. Just until I realize it must be Johanna's. I can hear her moans, the heavy footsteps of the Peacekeepers, and then her screams. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I try to do something else.

The torture drags on for a long time. They come and go at irregular intervals. Johanna says that these are days. Eventually I get used to sleeping through the night while she's in agony just at the other side of the wall. It's becoming a terrible habit. But I can never completely detach myself from reality. Her screams accompany me in my dreams. I've never seen exactly what they do to her, but my mind lets its imagination run wild every night. Sometimes I hear the water flowing, though there's no Peacekeeper around to pour it over her head. Each activity in this cell offers a different kind of torment, although I'm physically fine.

The Peacekeepers leave me alone. Nobody comes to hurt me. They bring me food one time a day. Not more. I can't figure out why they don't hurt me and just leave me alone. Johanna suspects they're trying to break me by witnessing her torture. Or to break a little bit more, because I've already been broken.

I already got used to this situation when one day the Peacekeepers open my door after all. I just stare at them, unable to know how I'm supposed to be feeling right now. I'm not scared as they grab me and push me out of the room. To my surprise, Johanna is also standing in front of her cell door. We both stand on the yellow-lit corridor of the block and stare at each other.

The woman in front of me looks nothing like Johanna. She's emaciated, her shoulder blades protruding and I'm afraid they'll pierce her thin skin at any moment. The brown head of hair has disappeared, instead her head has been shaved. She wears light gray clothing that hangs limply on her body. She looks like a ghost and her posture exudes exactly that, as if her soul is long dead and only her body remains. Bruises can be seen wherever the clothing reveals her skin. Purple, yellow, blue. Everything about Johanna seems dead. Her brown eyes alone look at me with such intensity that I almost step on the Peacekeeper's toe behind me.

Johanna looks me up and down and for a moment I have the feeling that I look great. I'm ashamed to think so and even more ashamed to look so much better than her. If they hadn't spared me, I'd probably look the same. I open my mouth and let the air flow into my lungs. Only now do I realize that I actually held my breath. To my surprise, Johanna's mouth twists into her signature smile. Her white teeth flash at me and for a moment she seems just as arrogant as ever. Only the stubborn mentality that her eyes always radiated is gone. There seems to be a dull veil over her gaze, making her look older than she actually is.

"You look like shit," comes hoarsely from Johanna's mouth. She coughs, but the grin doesn't disappear from her bloody lips.

Her words make me smile. Those words are so typical of Johanna. How many times has she said that sentence to me? Since I first met her years ago, I'm sure dozens of times. "You too," I reply tonelessly and yet smiling. I would have never said such a thing before. Before – and by that, I mean before all of this happened – I would have been outraged. Old Effie would have been outraged, and probably offended, would have run to Haymitch to lecture him about Johanna Mason's bad manners.

The Peacekeepers lead us down the corridor. They take us to a different cell, but identical in size and appearance. The only difference is that this one has two beds. Surprised, I whip my head around to look at the two Peacekeepers. But they already slammed the door in my face.

Johanna has sat down on the bed on the left, protectively pulled her legs in front of her body, and is leaning her head on her knee. Her eyes follow me silently as I sit down on the other bed and face her. For a while we just stare at each other without saying anything. At some point I start talking. I tell her my story of how I got into all of this. Johanna doesn't interrupt me, not like she used to do. Her gaze stays on me as I press my lips together after I've finished.

"Things shouldn't have turned out this way," she says again. "I don't get why you're here."

Johanna isn't interested in talking about herself or what happened to her. I accept her decision. And yet I make my own guesses. I've noticed a lot in the past few days, even though I've tried my best to ignore it. Johanna doesn't talk much overall, but she listens all the better for that. Most of the time we just sit there, the simple presence of the other is enough to make us feel better. But every now and then I tell her things from my old life. It helps her. My stories seem to distract her. The longer we are together, the more often she starts asking questions about me. About the Capitol, the Hunger Games, my family. To my surprise, the stories also help me. They let me dive into my old life. A world of lies, mock politeness and joy. But it was also a world without agony. A world without pain.

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Skyllen