Salvation: A Finnick Odair Story

Nine

Maisie

My vision was a bit blurred as I opened my eyes and it took them a while to adjust, but when they did I realized I was in an unfamiliar room, laying down on a large white bed.
"Fin-" I stopped to clear my throat. "Finnick?" When he didn't reply, I got up to go to the door. Before I could open it myself, two Peacekeepers walked in causing me to back away.
"Glad to see you're finally awake Miss Galloway." The voice made my blood turn icy as the Peacekeepers parted and Snow walked forward.
"What are you doing here? Where am I?"
"You're in the Capital, my dear," Snow replied, panic settling within me.
"No. No no no," I repeated as I began to hyperventilate.
"I need to ask you a few questions."
"I won't..." I whispered. I was shaking violently, my darkest fears coming true. I had to be dreaming.
"I know you have knowledge of the rebellion. What can you tell me about that?"
"I don't know anything," I lied.
Snow sighed deeply, seeing right through me. "If you want your family to be safe then I suggest you cooperate with us."
"You do not touch my family!" I shouted, standing up to lunge for him, but the Peacekeepers were quick to react and hold me back.
"Gentlemen, you know what to do." And with that, Snow walked out of my room.

The Peacekeepers kept their strong hold on me as they dragged me out of my room and down a hallway.
"Help me!" I screamed, hoping someone would hear me, but I knew deep down that it was hopeless. I was shoved into a dark, concrete room with a heavy metal door.
"Oh my god Maisie," someone mumbled from behind me. I swiftly turned around and saw Johanna. Her head was shaved, her right eye bruised, her body covered in scratches.
"Johanna?" I scrambled toward her, pulling her toward me, and embracing her tightly.
"What happened to you? What's going on?" I asked.
"We're being held here for information. Peeta's here too, he's having his turn."
"Having his turn with what?" Johanna opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by disturbing screams coming from what sounded like the next room.
"What are they doing to him?" My voice was shaky.
"Whatever they can think of to get information out of him," Johanna replied.
"Information about the rebellion? He doesn't know anything."
"They don't know that."
"And I'm assuming they'll do the same to us," I whispered. I could see tears well in her eyes, but she quickly turned away.

Minutes passed as we listened to Peeta's painful screams and I could only imagine what they were doing to him. It scared me to know that I was about to find out myself as two other Peacekeepers entered the room and grabbed me harshly.
"No!" I screamed loudly as they carried me into the room across the hall. Peeta was being dragged out passed me and I tried reaching out for him.
"Peeta," I called for him. When he looked at me, he had a crazed look in his eyes that frightened me. The Peacekeepers shoved me down into a metal chair that was bolted to the floor and strapped my wrists and ankles down, restricting any possible movement.
"Tell us what you know," one Peacekeeper demanded, but I remained silent. He stared me down, his grip on the baton fastened to his hip.
"If you're going to be difficult about it, well then your life's going to be a living hell."
"You can beat me, torture me, and threaten the safety of my family, but I won't tell you a thing," I spat.
"Very well." I was suddenly shocked with a powerful surge of electricity, making me scream out in pain. It felt as if I was engulfed in fire, the pain unlike anything I had ever experienced. It lasted for a good five seconds until it stopped. Black spots danced across my hazy vision and tears streamed down my cheeks endlessly.
"Not too much. The President has work to do with her," another Peacekeeper spoke up from the doorway.
"Take her to be prepped." I was in too much pain to fight or struggle when they took me out of my restraints and carried me to another room.

Take her to be prepared.
The President has work to do with her.

What where they talking about? I was placed on a cold metal table surrounded by many instruments that I recognized since Dixie had used quite a few. A short man entered the room shortly after, his bleached hair a great contrast to his dark olive complexion. He must be the stylist they keep around here, I gathered. He immediately went to work on me, waxing, plucking, airbrushing, trimming.
"Excuse me," I finally spoke up, my voice coming out in a whisper. The man looked over at me, his eyebrows raised, signaling me to continue. "How long have I been here?"
"You three arrived here about a week ago, but they've kept you unconscious," he informed me. I nodded silently and allowed him to get back to work. It had been a week. I could only assume that Finnick was rescued by the rebels and was safe, but that didn't mean he was in the best state of mind. Did he know I was alive? Did he know where I was?