It's all deja vu. Buzzing sounds erupt around me as everything explodes. And by everything I mean everything. Trees go up in flames, dirt showers everywhere, and sparks of light illuminate the sky. The gamemakers must have wanted to create even more of show for the audience. The vibration is definitely there like the last time, except it's on a much larger scale. I try to block my ears to stop the ringing but the earth is shaking so hard, and my arms won't cooperate. The difference between this experience and the last is clear. The last I was smiling, enjoying how I outsmarted the Capitol by using their own weapon against them. This time the smile is upside-down, and I'm terrified of what's going to happen next.

[Will they let anyone survive? Will there be a victor of the Seventy-fifth Hunger Games? Maybe not. After all, what is this Quarter Quell but...what was it President Snow read from the card?

"...a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol..."

Not even the strongest of the strong will triumph. Perhaps they never intended to have a victor in these Games at all. Or perhaps my final act of rebellion forced their hand.] (page 380, lines 10 through 19)

What is it with myself and following the rules? What have I done? A horrible thing, that's what you've done... I was in it to save Rory and now I've robbed him of his chance of living by breaking the rules once more.

I don't see it, but I somehow know when a hovercraft appears above me. Under normal circumstances, everything would have gone quiet and I'd hear the soft tune of a mockingjay, announcing it's arrival. But I'm not under normal circumstances. There isn't the slightest chance that my ringing ears could make out such a delicate sound under all this bombardment.

I feel the cold metal claws sliding under me. My instincts tell me to scream, run, climb out, but I'm frozen in time and space, helpless, unable to do anything. And suddenly a scary thought materializes in my head. I wish I could die just like this. Because really, what more could happen if I live? Awaiting inside the hovercraft will be people from the Capitol, people that've ruined my life, people that'll make my death as slow and public as possible. So I wish I could die just like this.

But I just can't. I can't die without Rory knowing that I really did try to save his life. I can't die so young. I can't die in the hands of the Capitol. I can't die like this.

The face of none other than Plutarch Heavensbee greets me when I reach the top. Head Gamemaker. What have I done to his well designed games? With his intricate clock, fierce field of victors, and cleverly planned arena horrors, I'm sure it's been one of the best games yet. But I've ruined it for him. I've done it again. He'll lose his life as Seneca had the previous year. And It'll be my fault.

I watch as his hand reaches over for my face and I expect him to smack me. But he does something worse. He brushes his fingers over my eyelids, exposing me to darkness. They can do anything now, and I won't even see what's coming.

I feel my heart thumping wildly in my chest. It isn't from fear, nor exhilaration. I feel the moss on my arm soaking up with blood. Perhaps I'll lose enough blood and die right here. Perhaps I can die before they make me pay the price. I silently thank Johanna for the brilliant wound she has carved out as I black out.

I don't know how much time has passed when I resurface. I'm still semiconscious but...I'm alive nonetheless. I'm so vulnerable in my weak state and I'm afraid of what's to come. I feel a padded table under my back and I know I'm still laying down. I feel tubes down my left arm and I open my eyelids for confirmation. Tubes. They're trying to keep me alive.

I lift my head up slightly for a better look of my surroundings. It's a fairly large room, with a low ceiling and silverly lights everywhere. And I'm not alone. Around me are two rows of beds, facing each other. I can hear the faint breathing of my fellow victors and I want to scream. Why can't they just let us die? In frustration, I bang my head backwards onto the table, and black out.

The next time I wake up I have enough strength to control myself truly. I wiggle my fingers and toes and all twenty of them work. My left arm no longer has tubes attached to it, but instead is bandaged with a loose cloth. Smiling, I look around the room once more. All the beds are gone but one. Beetee's. Where is everyone else? Rory, Finnick, Enobaria and...who else made it out? One of the three, Johanna, Brutus or Chaff, had to be alive when my dart penetrated that force field and caused the destruction. Where are they now? Moved out of the ward to a jail cell? Where am I headed next?

I was in it to save Rory, and I still am, I think to myself. And if saving him means killing him to resolve him of the pain to come, I'll do it. I prop myself up on my elbows and scan the room in attempt to find a weapon. I spot a syringe and grin. That'll do.

Creeping out of the ward is easy. It's cold though, and I realize the only thing covering my body is a thin nightgown. I slip the syringe under the bandage covering the wound on my left arm. There aren't any guards, which strikes me as odd. But then what are the chances of me escaping anyways? It doesn't really matter. I'm not trying to escape.

I quietly walk down the narrow hallways of whatever facility we're currently in. I stop at a metal door that's slightly ajar. Nice going Prim, I compliment myself. I stick to the wall and pull out the syringe, then listen to whoever is talking inside.

["Communications are down in Seven, Ten, and Twelve. But Eleven has control of transportation now, so there's at least a hope of them getting some food out."

Plutarch Heavensbee. I think. Although I've only really spoken with him once. A hoarse voice asks a question.

"No, I'm sorry. There's no way I can get you to Four. But I've given special orders for her retrieval if possible. It's the best I can do, Finnick."

Finnick. My mind struggles to make sense of the conversation, of the fact that it's taking place between Plutarch Heavensbee and Finnick. Is he so near and dear to the Capitol that he'll be excused his crimes? Or did he really have no idea what Beetee intended? He croaks out something else. Something heavy with despair.

"Don't be stupid. That's the worst thing you could do. Get her killed for sure. As long you're alive, they'll keep her alive for bait," says Haymitch.

Says Haymitch! I bang through the door and stumble into the room.] (page 383 lines 27-29 through page 384 lines 1-16)

A sober Haymitch, a beaten-up Finnick, and a cheerful Plutarch Heavensbee gathered around a silver table. How interesting. On the table is an untouched meal, and behind them is a large floor to ceiling window. There're trees whizzing by which can only mean one thing, that we're flying.

"The princess has finally awaken from her beauty sleep," Haymitch says in a dead tone. But I know he cares because when I sway forward from dizziness, he grabs my wrist to steady me. He looks at my hand and raises an eyebrow. "You and a syringe against the Capitol? This is why we no longer confide our plans to you, missy. Drop it."

I stare at him for a good three seconds before dropping my weapon. It falls to the floor with a clatter. He then releases my wrist and gestures for me to take a seat next to him. I comply, warily eying Plutarch, the man who created the traps that almost killed me quite a few times this past week. He merely gives me a warm smile like he's done nothing to hurt me. Yeah right. He hands me a bowl of broth and a spoon, telling me to 'eat up' in a much kinder voice than Haymitch's.

"I'll tell you what's been going on, but promise me, no questions until the end. Eh?"

"I promise."

This is what they tell me. [There was a plan to break us out of the arena from the moment the Quell was announced. The victor tributes from 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, and 11 had varying degrees of knowledge about it. Plutarch Heavensbee has been, for several years, part of an undercover group aiming to overthrow the Capitol. He made sure the wire was among the weapons. Beetee was in charge of blowing a hole in the force field. The bread we received in the area was code for the time of the rescue. The district where the bread originated indicated the day. Three. The number of rolls the hour. Twenty-four. The hovercraft belongs to District 13. Bonnie and Twill, the women I met in the woods from 8, were right about its existence and its defense capabilities. We are currently on a very roundabout journey to District 13. Meanwhile, most of the districts in Panem are in full-scale rebellion.

Haymitch stops to see if I am following. Or maybe he is done for the moment.

It's an awful lot to take in, this elaborate plan in which I was a piece, just as I was meant to be a piece in the Hunger Games. Used without consent, without knowledge. At least in the Hunger Games, I knew I was being played with.] (page 385 lines 8-29)

"I just don't understand...Why didn't anyone tell me?" I croak, my voice suddenly hoarse.

"It was for the best-"

"So you're gonna play that line now, okay-"

"It isn't like that! Neither you nor Rory were told about the plan because you'd be the first ones caught when the forcefield blew! The less you knew the better!"

"Why would they want us, some negligible children from District 12?"

"For the same reason the rest of us agreed on saving your lives even if it meant risking ours," Finnick says. I almost forgot he was there.

"Johanna tried to kill me," I tell them bitterly.

"She was cutting the tracker out of your arm, then leading Enobaria and Brutus away from you," Haymitch explains. It still doesn't make sense to me though. I wish they'd stop talking in circles.

"I don't understand what-"

"We had to save you because...you're the Mockingjay, Prim," Plutarch says. ["While you live, the revolution lives."

The bird, the pin, the song, the berries, the watch, the cracker, the dress that burst into flames. I am the mockingjay. The one that survived despite the Capitol's plans. The symbol of the rebellion.] (page 386 lines 27-29 through page 387 lines 1-2)

Bonnie and Twill. This is like taking in the information they told me once again, but on a much larger magnitude. I think back to telling Haymitch about running away or even starting our own uprising, and him sneering. It all makes sense now. He lied to me this whole time. And he's been lying about something else too.

"Rory. Where's Rory. What have you done to him?! Why have you kept him alive?!"

"We had to keep him alive for you. We knew you wouldn't keep the alliance without him," Finnick says hoarsely and I can tell he's feeling awful. He should be.

"And he's very capable of being the second mockingjay. We all heard his beautiful speech at the interviews and plan to have you two work together," Plutarch adds. So that's it- he's just another piece in these games. I'm the symbol, and now he's the mouthpiece.

"He was taken by the Capitol along with Enobaria and Johanna," Haymitch tells me.

"What?!" I screech. I lunge forward and scrape Haymitch's face with my fingernails. They aren't too long but still leave a trail of blood running from his eye to his mouth.

"How could you let them take him like that?!" I shout, tears streaming down my cheeks, my fists clenched at my sides. I lunge at him once more but Finnick holds me down. I wriggle, trying to free myself from his grasp but he's too strong. I struggle nonetheless, trying to fight back. I am not going to be an easy piece for them. In fact I'm going to be the most complicated piece in this game, more complicated than any piece they've ever dealt with before.

Other hands come help Finnick, and soon I'm back in my ward. Against my will. I'm on my table, wrists tied down by restraints, and so I bang my head in frustration over and over. I had never been this angry before. I always tried to keep the peace and avoid the conflict, to be sweet, kind and winsome. But it just gets harder and harder to do so under all these circumstances.

I feel a needle making its way through my skin then suddenly everything feels fuzzy. I don't black out though, which in a way is even more horrible. People around me try to comfort me but their words don't reach me. All I can think about is Rory. He must be on a similar table somewhere, while people try to draw information out of him that he doesn't have.

"I'm so sorry Prim, I wanted to go back for Johanna and Rory but I couldn't move," Finnick says, suddenly sitting next to me. His intentions mean nothing to me. "Rory's better off than Johanna. They'll know he doesn't know the plan pretty soon. And trust me, they won't kill him if they think they can use him against you."

His words don't comfort me at all, not one bit. In fact, it does quite the opposite.

"Like bait. Just like Annie," I spit out bitterly. He starts crying and I wonder if I said the wrong thing.

"I wish...I wish she could just be dead," Finnick says between his tears. "I wish all of us were dead. We're better off that way."

I don't respond. After all, I was walking around with a syringe to kill Rory before I found them. But do I really wish he was dead? No. What I really want is to have him back. But that isn't possible anymore. The Capitol has taken him and who knows what pain they'll make him suffer. It'd be best if he were dead.

I do something unexpected even to myself. I give up. I don't talk, I don't eat, and I don't drink. They pump a lot of stuff into me but now that I've lost my will to live, they can't do much about it. Maybe if I die it'll punish Haymitch. His precious pawn in his little game will no longer be there. I trusted him. I gave him all I had. Then he betrayed me.

What did he say earlier in the room? This is why we no longer confide our plans to you, he had said in the room earlier. True. No one should let me know the plans anymore because I clearly cannot tell a friend apart from an enemy.

A lot of people go and by, trying to talk to me. But I block out their words, making everything they say sound like the clicking of insects in the jungle. When I start comprehending their words, I moan until I'm given painkillers, which fix everything up. I do this over and over, day and night. I block everyone out and it's like I'm mentally dead even if I'm breathing.

Until one day, I wake up to the voice of someone I cannot block out. Katniss. She's not the person to comfort me with lies, or tries to explain themselves to me, because I know her, and she knows me.

"Prim," she whispers softly.

"Katniss."

She brushes my face gently and all the walls that I've built crumble down. I notice that parts of her face are burnt, recently. Her arm is in a cast and sling. What happened? How did she get here. Something really bad must have happened back at home.

"What about mother?" I croak.

"She's safe, Prim. Don't worry about her. I got her out in time."

"She's not in District 12?"

"Prim...after the Games started, the Capitol sent in planes and dropped firebombs...you saw what happened to the Hob."

I did see it. It went up in flames and ashes. I imagine firebombs destroying the Seam and a new fear consumes me.

"She's not in District 12?" I repeat, like saying it again will somehow change the truth.

"Primrose," Katniss says, using my full name the way she does before delivering big news. Suddenly I don't want to hear what she has to say. I raise my hand to block her words but she just grabs it and holds it tight.

"Please don't," I cry. But Katniss has never been good at keeping secrets from me.

"Prim, District Twelve is gone."

END OF BOOK TWO

~A/N~ I finally wrote this thing!! I can't believe it's been a month and I am so sorry about that.

Thanks so much for the support throughout the whole story. Thanks for sticking around despite the late updates, mistakes, unnecessarily long ANs (sorry about that) and all that other stuff. The one shot announcements will be made later today so stay posted.

Love yall!!

-Monica