It Comes in Waves

Seventy Two

I'm drifting off to sleep when the lights flicker on once more. I sit up so I'm leaning against the wall and I feel a brief flash of surprise to see my prep team standing before me. They're quiet as they walk over to me, the familiar silk bags full of beauty supplies in their hands.

"Come on."

I stand and follow them blindly. Johanna yells after us as we walk down the hallway, demanding to know where they're taking me. They say nothing, not even when Peeta asks, too.

What would destroy Louis?

Maybe they're going to kill me. Maybe I'm walking to some sort of executive room. I realize that there's no way that's what's happening. Louis would wish me dead, too. He would rather I be dead than tortured almost daily. They're not going to give him what he wants.

I can't climb the black steps.

My foot fails to rise high enough halfway up the first flight and I go flying forward, landing hard on my knees. I sit there for a few moments, pain radiating through me, and I'm done. I'm done. I'm not moving, I'm not cooperating. I'm done with this. I'm done with all of this.

My prep team tells me to get up, but I'm not, and I won't.

Eventually they call a Peacekeeper. He kicks my side so hard I almost vomit and he pulls my hair, but I'm not budging. I don't care anymore. I don't care. They aren't going to hurt Louis. I won't let them. They're going to have to kill me first.

The Peacekeeper ends up picking me up and throwing me over his shoulder. I hang limply and watch the blur of the stairs as he climbs up and up and up. When I see glittering tile I think maybe I'm going back into a hovercraft. But I don't see pavement. Instead, I'm lead through a door and into a room that has plush, red carpeting.

The Peacekeeper drops me to the floor. The carpet is so thick and soft. I haven't felt anything this comfortable in what feels like months, but I know it hasn't been that long at all. I curl up into myself and lie there, thinking maybe they'll shoot me right here, and my blood will blend right into the carpet, and all of this will be over.

That doesn't happen, though. The Peacekeeper yanks me up and hands me over to my prep team. They lead me into a sparkling private bathroom attached to the room. They pull my clothes off and run a bath and then set me in it and when they do, something snaps into place inside of me.

I'm in the arena, but this time they're holding Louis underwater and they're letting him bleed out. I'm weak and tired and trapped in my own mind and I can't feel anything at all and he's crying but his salt tears only add to the salt water and I'm drowning and he's drowning too and maybe we're going to drown together and-

Why are they washing me? Why are they washing my hair?

I'm so tired. Don't they understand that I'm tired? Why are they washing my hair? Why would washing my hair destroy Louis?

They don't have to pull me out of the tub. The minute the soaps and conditioners are off my body, I'm jumping up and out, pulling a towel from their hands and desperately trying to dry the water off my body. They lead me back into the room with the red carpet after that, and all I can do is stare.

It's got gold walls and a huge bed that takes up almost a third of the room. The bed strikes me as odd though, because it has no pillows or blankets on it. The entire room is filled with things that must be extremely expensive-a white leather sofa, solid oak furniture, a crystal chandelier-but they couldn't afford a blanket?

I stare at it the entire time they conceal my under eyes and file my nails and dry my hair. I'm still staring as they run a brush through my hair and meticulously curl it.