What If

Chapter Eleven:

Part Three—Mockingjay
Katniss

All I felt was pressure. Immense pressure pushing on me; the weight of the whole entire world.

Suddenly my eyes opened. I was greeted with a plain gray ceiling and the heaving of my chest. I gasped greedily for air as I scanned the room, feeling woozy as I peered around.

After suddenly gaining the strength to lift myself up, I looked around. I could clearly tell that I was in a Capitol made aircraft by the high tech steel and technology all around me.

Next to me were whizzing and beeping machines. A hospital. I was in a hospital. The familiar forms of Beetee and Finnick lay next to me, both out cold.

As I regained my senses I knew what I needed to do. I couldn't let the Capitol keep me here as their puppet, parade me for show and torture me by night. I knew their stunts already, and I wouldn't be a part of them any longer.

I swung my legs over the side of my bed. My body ached but I ignored it. I would dead in a matter of minutes, so why should I worry anymore?

Then I noticed it. Several tubes connected to the machine and then to my body. It made me shudder and I realized it was to keep me alive. To keep me there.

I ripped the tubes out, which caused fiery hot pain to spread throughout my body. I screamed, my mouth unable to be controlled by my brain.

After I sat motionless the pain subdued and I continued on my mission. Hobbling, I walked through the room, looking for something-anything-I could use to kill myself.

Nausea rose in me, causing me to double over and fall back into my hospital bed.

No, I begged myself. Get up. You need to run, escape, go! Now. Anywhere but here....

My body disobeyed. My eyes, heavy with lethargy, fell down, and soon all I could see was black.

In what felt like a matter of moments I forced my eyes open again. I shoved myself up with all my might, but someone had hinged me in with tight restraints.

Turning my head I could see that I was alone; both beds next to mine were vacant. I slowly shimmied my hand out from the restraints, cursing under my breathe.

Getting up the second time was easier. Although I was still wobbling I made it to the nearest supply closet where I ransacked it. The only weapon-like object was a syringe.

It's needle was sharp. It was cool against my skin, most likely made of metal and plastic, although I didn't doubt it could do some damage. That was all I needed.

I slipped the syringe down the tightly bound wrap around my aching hand and stumbled over to the door, quickly finding it unlocked.

It led me to an empty hallway; plain and without decor, which surprised me for a capitol aircraft. I heard distant voices from a door down the hall.

Pressing my ear against the door I heard familiar voices: Haymitch, Finnick, and...Plutarch Heavensbee? I was sure it was them, but it confused me nonetheless.

I slowly pushed the door open to see my suspicions were right. Haymitch, Plutarch, and Finnick were all sitting at a table, backs turned to me.

"I know, but she'll freak out when she learns about the boy," said Haymitch's raspy voice, which sent chills up my spine.

"What is this?" I asked, my voice weak from lack of use. They all spun around, wearing the same shade of red on their faces. "What is this?!"

Haymitch was the first to speak. "Calm down, sweetheart."

Don't call me that.

"Tell me what happened," I demanded, surprising myself with the sharpness of my speech.

"We got you out of the games, that's what happened," Haymitch said as if he assumed I would be unappreciative.

"W-What...? How?" I asked doubtfully. How did I know this wasn't another capitol game? Besides, the head game maker was besides them at this very instant. And they were talking to him as if they were allies.

Haymitch peered at the people surrounding him before clearing his throat and speaking. He explained everything to me.

He told me his plan with the head game maker, Plutarch Heavensbee, and how he had been on our side the whole time. Then he told me about how several other victors knew. How people did anything in the arena to protect me, and Peeta—his orders.

My voice was weak and shaky with shock. "Why-why didn't you tell me....? I could've helped...."

Haymitch pointed at my cast. I slowly retrieved the syringe from it and handed it to him since his palm was outstretched.

"You and a syringe against the capitol. This is why you don't make the plans...." he replied with a chuckle as he sat it down on the table, making a large clank.

"Where's Peeta?" I asked suddenly, regaining my senses. "I asked you to watch out for him, did I not? Where is he? Certainly you rescued him too....right? Right, Haymitch?"

They all glared at me, glassy-eyed

"Errr...." Haymitch started. "Peeta, he, uh, got taken....by the capitol."

Anger boiled inside me. I screamed out before I could stop myself and regulate my emotions. "What?! WHAT?! YOU—! You promised me! YOU TOLD ME YOU WOULD TAKE CARE OF HIM! It was always supposed to him, NOT ME! Not me!"

I lunged at Haymitch, my rage overtaking me. I clawed at his face, kicked at his shins, and shouted more vile things at him.

The worst part was that he didn't fight back. He didn't even complain. He knew what he'd done, and he knew he deserved it.

Plutarch and Finnick finally tore me off of Haymitch and sat me down in a seat. Haymitch, in the chaos, left, probably looking to find some alcohol, the old drunk.

After I was force fed they escorted me back to my hospital room where I was forcefully strapped down and placed under sedatives.

I fell asleep the second I closed my eyes and, thankfully, did not have any dreams or nightmares for that matter.

The next time I awoke I had a visitor at my bedside.

"Hey, Catnip."

"Gale." I sighed with relief. I was glad Gale was there. He was someone familiar, someone I hadn't just lost. "Where's Prim?"

"Prim and your mother are both safe and in District Thirteen," he answered, helping me sit up.

"District Thirteen?" I questioned. He opened his mouth to explain, but I interrupted him. "What about District Twelve?"

His face turned grim. "Katniss, there is no District Twelve."