THG: Retrieval: "Ess-cah-pay"

[amichan]

Eating is getting easier. Throat not so sore. Can eat more which they like.

This one doesn't nervously watch the window like others. Maybe no one is out there this time of day. This one also likes to blather most of them are quiet. Flat. Spoon. Spoon. Drink. Spoon. Spoon. Drink. This one has offered to let me try and feed myself once now but was told against it by someone else but now we're alone.

“Do you want to put on the tapes?” She says, “I know they showed things to you in the earlier session but I don't think it'll matter too much if we review them again...”

Do you know how many times I watched the tapes, Caesar. Do you?

“No.”

“Oh.” Disappointment. Good. Sad, though. Bleeding heart. Exploit.

“I'm hungry,” Look at food, “Can't think much else.”

“Oh, of course, I'm sorry. Silly me and tapes,” she brings the food over next to the bed and sits nearby offers the spoon of food. Eat obediently. Give her sad eyes.

She looks around after a moment, “They're never ones to give anyone chances; but how are you going to get any better if they don't let you do anything at all.” She comes around to the left and loosens the middle of the strap. Still fastened but there's give between the bed and arm just enough to eat if distance is closed between bowl and mouth. Eat a few spoonfuls. She watches happily.

Shaky hand. Drop the spoon close by side of bad.

“Oh, oops!” She laughs and comes over to pick it up. Hit her with the bowl. Throw her off guard. Choke. She slumps.

Undo the cuff from the bed on the left. Undo the cuff on the hand on the right. Undo the legs. It's not like she has any weapons. They wouldn't bring that in. Take off the wrist thing from the left. Listen at the door. No sound.

Open the door. Corridor. Guard at end of corridor. Have to get out. Have to get out. Must find her. Guard turns. Sees.

“Stop.” Hand up, “Stop right there.”

Spring. Pin him against wall. Spoon in ear. No more. Down. Go on.

This room is low lit has many shadows, many beds. Empty. Across to the side no exit.

“What the fuck just happened?” Voice familiar.

To the back then.

“I'll check.” Male voice. Not familiar.

“You? Really?” Snort, “Okay. Should be fun, huh, kid?”

“You?”

Turn.

“How are you ou-?” Grab head. Hand over mouth. Pull down.

To his ear, “Don't scream. Just say where she is.”

Pull hand slightly away. Other hand on throat tight, “Wh-who?”

Useless. Discard. Carry on. No scream.

“What was that?” A whisper. An echo.

“Someone being useless and stupid and probably dead. Stay here. Stay down.” 

Movement from right. Shape pounces near on empty bed. Lithe. Bald. Female.

“Blondie! Look at...you...” head tilted to side, “Shit.” Off the bed.

Noise to the left.

“No—No,” Familiar she says, “You know it's me you want to take,” she moves odd. Feet lifting too high, “Fucking bare feet,” movement behind, “shit. Fuck. Fucking shit. Fuck.”

Keep it real with me, Blondie.

“I told you stay down,” she points, “stay,”

Screams in the dark. Back for more, are you?

“Gonna take your shot, at me?”

Batshit. I can work with that.

Shove the bed towards. She jumps up on it. Then over. Fall back. Roll her. Not the right her. All spike and harsh. Not trying to play nice. Not tricking. No mutt.

“What's with you?” she says.

Hit her face. Throw to wall. Kip up.

“Oh? play time?” She cracks her neck.

Keep moving. Have to get out.

Attack comes from behind. Arms round neck. Legs round waist. Breath on neck. Reach to grab to throw but:

“Come on, Blondie,” Fingers tapping on chest, words right in ear, “I thought you wanted to play. You gotta keep it real for me though, right? You promised.” Hands don't want to work.

You know these assholes cut off my hair?

As much as any of us were sane to begin with.

Speak for yourself.

There you go. It's working already.

Get her away. Get her.

Don't be sorry. Be pissed.

Where is this? Who is on me? Get her off. Throw her. Drumming on chest. Grab. Pull. She twists round. Facing me. Face to face. Johanna.

Do I get to call you Baldie instead of Blondie?

“Ahh—you knew me for a second there?” Fingers tapping shoulders. Hold on neck one hand. Smacking hand on shoulder. Throw her. Grab her ar—no. Johanna and I must get out of here. The odds are not in our favor. We're prisoners of the Capitol. Have to find her. The mutt. Ground. Ground meets knees. Johanna jumps off and sits in front of me.

“It's too loud. It's too loud. Have to get out.” Move her...together. We need to leave—wait..., “How—how did we get out of the cells? Did you—did you break out?”

Johanna takes my hands, “We're not in the Capitol, Peeta. We're in District Thirteen.”

“No,” That doesn't make sense.

“People came from here and got us out. They got us out. You and me and Annie. The bastard's had Annie too. Finnick's Annie.”

Movement behind.

“Is-is he okay?” quiet voice.

“Thirteen was destroyed.” Thirteen was destroyed. No. We're in Thirteen. I have to tell you this every time I come in and it's getting tiresome. Thirteen was not destroyed. Do you know any other districts that are underground? There was a fire in Twelve. It was her fault. No. No it wasn't. It was fire bombed. It was bombed. The Capitol bombed it. The sky exploded. Was it because of me?

“Didn't I tell you to stay back, baby sister?” Johanna turns ever so slightly. We're not in the Capitol. We're not in the Capitol.

“I need to check on, Holvy. Someone else will be up soon.”

“I really don't think you do.” Johanna answers.

“Holvy?” I ask.

“Don't worry about it,” she tells me, “Where have they been keeping him anyway?”

“I-I don't know. I've consulted on treatment options but I've not been allowed to see him. Too risky. They don't want anyone in there who might remind him of...of, you know. You've been making me stay back.”

“Until he calmed down,” she sighs, “Fine. Go check on Holvy. This might be as much as we get.”

My hands are taken hold of and pulled down away from mine. I see her face in front of me, bobbing around.

“Come on, Blondie. Tell me what you think of the look. Can I pull off bald or what?”

Footsteps go round. Who?

“Blondie?”

“Johanna?”

“Yes. Come on. You're gonna be an ass and not say hello the first time we see each other face to face in months after just being screams through a wall?”

“You're going to say that to him?” She's over behind us now in the slight light I can make out blonde hair tied up around her head and the blue pinafore. It's familiar. Drop the spoon. Choke. No. No. No.

“No point in sugar coating shit that happened,” she keeps tight hold of my hands with one and turns my head so I'm not looking at what the blonde girl is doing. There's someone on the floor. Odd angle. Not moving.

More footsteps. Three sets.

“I hear them too. Stay still.”

Get up. Get up. Threat. Soldiers.

“Son of a bitch.” Three. Guns.

“He's dead,” she says, from the other side, “His neck...”

“Shush...no wait. I'm sorry, Blondie. Baby-sis. Say what happened.”

“His neck is broken.” Useless. Discard.

No. No. Useless. Discard. Carry on. No. No.

I sink back down. Johanna wraps her arms and legs around me.

“Why is he out of the secure room?” a voice asks.

“I don't know!” Johanna snaps, “But he's not a threat. I have him.”

“You can contain him?”

“Yes!” She shouts.

Footsteps walking away. Sound of a comm activating.

“What did I do? What did I do? There was a spoon...There was a woman in the room. I can sort of see her, and the corridor. He wasn't useless. He wasn't. He worked in here, didn't he? How is that useless?”

“I'm sorry, Blondie. I'm sorry. But if she didn't tell you—you—the guards...”

“It won't shut up.” It repeats now. Spoon. Ear. I can hear it squelching in through there. The push of him falling against the wall and the shimmering spoon I got it from the room. I tricked her. I got her to let me eat. I choked her. Is she dead too? Three people? Oh. Oh, I'm going to be sick.

“Keeeee....Keeeeee....” is she scratching my head or drumming me? I don't--

There are people talking behind us. Hushed voices. More people coming. Footsteps. Closing. Threat. Threat. Turn.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demands.

“I'm sorry,” soft voice, “They want to take him back to the room, and that requires morphling.”

“The hell it did!” Everything is already getting—

“It's not up to you, Mason.”

“I told you I had him.”

I knew the fog would get here eventually.