"HELLO?"

She called out to no one in particular, just anyone that might be around to hear her. The black painted wooden door she pushed against groaned under her cold hands and curiously she stepped into the house. There were no whispers of life. Only dead quiet greeted her and she took slow, careful, steps over the threshold and into the open plan kitchen-come-living-room. Her eyes danced over the large space, looking for anything out of place but found nothing.

Natural daylight streamed in through the many windows and lit the house. Nothing but silence greeted her but it wasn't a silence she usually sought comfort in. No silence was ever good, it had been that way since her Games but this silence that draped over her shoulders—over the house—like a heavy weight seemed bad. It felt bad. Warning... like the silence was warning her something bad was about to happen.

Body tense, Aella continued to walk through her house slowly. She peered around but nothing was out of place, nothing out of the ordinary—

A lone mug sat atop the kitchen counter, her mother's mug. There was no kettle on the stove, just her mug on the bench. She tried to listen for any activity in the house and walked towards the kitchen counter with quiet steps, "Mom? Are you here?"

Nothing.

Pure silence engulfed her.

She continued on until she heard a creak in the floorboard behind her. The hairs rose at the back of her neck and her senses warned her of someone behind her. She whirled around so fast she went dizzy. Her body halted in her journey to examine that mug but instead she found herself frozen as Drew stood in the threshold of her open door.

She didn't know what to make of it... him standing there. His face was wholly blank and he just seemed to watch her until he turned and closed the door behind him. His fingers reached for the brass lock and he flipped it, the sound echoing harshly in the silent room. Her heart faltered in her chest as the sound reverberated in her ears. She remembered standing in the middle of her assigned room all those years ago when he came in, flipped her lock and advanced on her.

Distant wailing echoed in her ears. Screaming, she realised, that had belonged to her. Just as muffled as it hand been when he'd slapped his hand over her mouth and told her to be quiet. They were her screams that pounded through her ears.

Drew flipped the key in the lock before he removed it and pocketed it. It was only then did he look back at her with that sickening smirk on his face. His lips curled upward while his head tilted. For a breath they both stood there, watching one another intensely. Drew eyed up his prey like a man who had been starved of food all his life.

Aella swallowed thickly as nausea coiled in her stomach. Bile rose in her throat, up, up, up it came until she forced it down. Nothing.. there was nothing in this house that could help her.

She clenched and unclenched her jaw before squaring her shoulders and willing her voice to not shake, "What are you doing, Drew?" To her relief her voice held tight and did not waver despite her terror that was currently ripping her to shreds inside.

"I've come to finish what I started." He responded and continued to watch her with that predators glare. Watched her until—

He moved fast. His whole body charged toward her and she barely had the seconds to force herself into a run. She ducked behind the counter and pulled out the top centre drawer. Her breath stormed out her lungs when she found it empty. Where utensils and knives should have been was empty.

Screwed, she was so screwed when he held the key to the front door in his pocket.

He rounded the corner much too quick and she barely contained her panicked squeal, instead she threw the drawers and cupboard doors out in hopes to stall him. His pounding footsteps told her it hadn't worked. She ran out the kitchen and leaped up the small step that led into the hallway. She just had to get to the back of the house and pray that the door was open.

An unnatural strength crashed into her from behind and she was falling. Falling, falling, falling. Her body crashed against the cold wooden floor with a thud and she released a small cry as her bones vibrated. A weight sat at her back and she fought. She withered and wriggled until she managed to claw a hand free and try to crawl forward.

Drew's hand reached out and snatched her own. He grabbed her wrist and jerked her arm behind her back so forcefully she loosed the breath that had been in her lungs.

She was thrashing now. A cold sweat rolled down her back as his hand, his fingers, stroked down her side. She shook her head to herself, a sob tumbling passed her lips when she felt his hand inch lower.

No.

No—she would not let him do this to her again. Could not face it again. She refused.

"I want to see your face, Aella." He snarled in her ear, his breath tickling her neck, the side of her face, "I want to hear those muffled sounds you make for me."

"No!" She screamed and she poured every ounce of strength she had into veering up. She threw her head back and prayed she would meet her mark. Her prayer was met in his answering groan. She felt bone crunch against the back of her head and her hands loosened. She bared down and flipped herself underneath him.

Drew was too busy nursing his nose to notice her fist flying toward his face. The impacting pain had her breath failing but she continued to use Drew's surprise to her advantage and she managed to knock him off her with a second punch.

She collapsed into the chest of drawers next to them and rattled into the wall. A photo frame fell from the top and smashed against the ground. Shards of glass flew everywhere but Aella paid it no heed. Instead, she dragged her legs up underneath her and sprinted for her back door.

Her fingers had latched around the cold brass when Drew had at last risen to his feet. His nose was indeed crooked and blood ran down his lips and stained his teeth as he barred them at her and sneered, "Get back here you little bitch!"

Aella didn't hesitate. She threw the back door open and ran like hell. Her legs moved so fast she almost toppled down the back garden but she caught herself as Drew's quick footsteps pounded against the wooden floor inside.

She ran toward the iron gate that encompassed the Victor's Village and spied the bar she sought—the one that had warped over time and use. It had been bent back by her own doing only a few weeks after she'd moved in. The loose bar had moved easily for her, enough that she could fit her body through a gap she created. The gap remained and she threw herself through it and into the trees beyond.

A different kind of silence enveloped her. All she could hear—register—was the harsh huff and puff of her heavy breaths while she pushed herself to sprint. She ran like hell through the dense forest backed against the village and under her shoes twigs snapped. Loose bushes scratched her body, her arms, her face as she ran but she ignored them.

The dense trees never eased, not until she pushed through a thick ward of branches and stumbled upon golden sand and a deep river of water that circled around a familiar structure in the centre.

Aella's breath hitched in her throat. Her body stilled instantly as she looked around the familiar environment. The jungle heat swept in and the air became unbearably thick—humid.

A quick glance in the direction she had ran from told her that Drew did not follow her but as she looked around the rest of the arena she couldn't see anyone or anything else either. How—how an earth had she ended up here?

A rustling of leaves echoed a few feet to her right and she whirled, faster than lightning, to the sound. Her breaths were shallow and irregular, chest heaving but when she saw Finnick walk out from the thick trees she relaxed into her body again. Relief soared through her and she ran to him, throwing her arms around his body with a calming exhale.

"Fin."

She held him tightly and felt his arms rise to hold her until a sharp and agonising pain pierced her from behind. Her entire back exploded with pain and blinded her. The whooshing of a knife withdrawing from her back echoed through her ears as she staggered back in shock. She looked at Finnick, beheld the stony expression in his eyes, the curve of his lips into that stretched into a cold, menacing, smirk, as he held the now bloodied dagger in his hands.

Pain lanced through her body and she staggered back. Water snapped at her ankles like chains while she just stared at him in shock. She couldn't—her mind couldn't fathom it. What had made him turn on her? Her Finnick, he would never do this to her.. never betray her like this...

"Finnick—" She croaked as he walked toward her with slow steps. Her breath was a wet rasp as she held her hands up in front of her. Pleading shone in her eyes, "Fin, what are you doing?"

"What do you think?" He spoke. It was his voice... it was him—

She could not believe it. A sob crawled up her throat while he advanced.

"I'm killing you."

"Why?" Her voice cracked, low and deep, "You and me—"

"You thought that was real?" He asked before his eyes brightened in sick amusement. A low chuckle escaped his lips, "You were always so naive, Aella. It was so easy to make you believe I was in love with you. You let me straight in, sad and lonely Aella looking for someone to mend her broken heart."

She shook her head while she felt her heart starting to crack in her chest. Tears rolled from her eyes, "No—"

"And now I know." His smirk broadened, "Every dirty secret, who you cherish the most, your weakest spots.... I think I'll enjoy this."

"Finnick, stop—!"

She didn't get the chance to finish as he sprang on her, dagger raised high into the air. She tried to deflect his arm, pushing it away but the slightest movement made her back scream in agony. A roaring pain shackled her and his dagger struck true again right into her abdomen. He tore the breath from her lips while her hands moved to the blade still imbedded within her. Her knees shook wildly under her, threatening to fall. She would have, if it weren't for him standing right in front of her.

"Too easy." He mused in her ear before he pulled the dagger out again. Her blood splayed across the golden sand, staining it red and she collapsed to her knees. The water crashed around her while she pressed her hands to her bleeding abdomen. Thick blood coated her palms running fast—too fast. Her mind, her body, her vision swirled. She couldn't come to terms with it—didn't understand it. How he could do this to her. He'd promised her everything, told her he loved her.

The betrayal... her heart cleaved open and she sobbed on the beach.

He was walking away—he was going to leave her here to bleed out on this beach. Her head shook nimbly and even as the world underneath her turned she crawled after him. Made it all of one knee forward before she buckled under the pressure of the pain.

"Finnick, please!"

He turned back to her then and nothing but disgust shone in his eyes. His lip curved upward, "Pathetic. Utterly pathetic... and with no one else to blame but yourself."

What was he talking about?

Her mind was reeling. She couldn't keep up. Couldn't find the words. The water crashed around her body, pulling her backward. She vaguely saw him disappear through her hazy eyes and then she was falling.

Falling, falling, falling.

Until she awoke with a startling gasp and a wild heart. She tried to shoot upward, tried but failed. Her chest was heaving with the strain to breathe but she couldn't. She couldn't get the air in fast enough. All she could feel was the pounding of her heart and the unbearable tightness in her chest.

Her body strained—she shifted and she tugged but to no avail. Fear. It was blind fear that had done this. Cold and unforgiving leather bit at her wrists, shackles... The binds burned her already broken skin as she fought against them—twisted, pulled, withered. Her legs and her ankles were trapped all the same and that weight against her chest.. it was leather as well. All leather as they bound her to the metal table.

"Subject responds well to tracker jacker venom."

That voice—that familiar and hateful voice. She turned to its host and found her torturer beaming at her. His grin was nothing short of pure evil.

It was all fake—all of it. Drew chasing her through her house, Finnick killing her on that beach, every hateful word he'd spat at her. None of it was real. They had warped her reality so easily she hadn't even thought to question it. But... if he had done it so easily then... what was to say he wasn't doing it again now. What if she still hadn't woken up and instead had just fallen right into another sick and twisted nightmare.

Blue flame danced in Aella's eyes as she glared at the hateful man. Hoped her expression would cause him to drop down dead. Her eyes narrowed in rage as she seethed, "Let. Me. Go."

His grin only broadened as he lifted the dictaphone again in the shadows of the room and said, "Subject still remains to be unbroken."

Unbroken...

That's what they wanted to do. What they were trying to do. He wanted to break her. Wanted to shatter her mind, her body, her very soul into nothing. He wanted to make her lose herself, her grip on her reality and become nothing but a broken doll. Wanted to force her into something unfixable.

She wouldn't let him. She was going to fight with every drop, every ounce, of strength that remained in her body until he killed her. She would not let him break her.

My name is Aella Barnes, she chanted to herself, I escaped the Hunger Games twice. My name is Aella Barnes, I am from District Five. My name is Aella Barnes, my name is Aella Barnes. I won't let him break me. My name is Aella Barnes and I am a survivor.

Her torturer placed the dictaphone back on to his metal table of instruments and reached for something Aella could not quite see. He toyed with it, his eyes sparkling under the single light that illuminated the room. She could only make out brown leather in his hands, large and shaped and he kept ahold of it while he walked over to her slowly.

It was all designed to break her. The suspense was to make her scared. His intimidation—the way he smirked, or the way he walked so slowly to her when he was about to inflict pain upon her—was to keep her on alert. He was trying to train her brain to respond to his actions by picking his movements purposely. She had seen it before—had done it before. She wouldn't let fear win. Not against him.

"I'll admit, Aella," he said in sick amusement, "I'm impressed."

Her hands fisted as she pulled against the leather binding her to the table, "Why don't you unbind me and I'll show you just how impressive I can be when I slit your throat from ear to ear."

His eyes narrowed as his twisted smile broadened, "Such raging anger for a woman your age."

"Let's swap places. I think then you'll understand just why I can get so angry." She snarled.

"All that defiance." He mused, standing right beside her. He ran a cold finger down the base of her throat and she fought to escape him, tried and failed to bite him, "I'm going to thoroughly enjoy breaking you Aella."

Promise—that was promise behind his words.

She halted but did not balk. Forced the shudder at the top of her neck back as it threaded to rip down her spine in fear. She would not break.

My name is Aella Barnes. I escaped the Hunger Games twice. My name is Aella Barnes—

He held the leather in his hands up for her to see. A mask—no not a mask, she thought, a hood. A leather hood with a chamber over where her mouth would sit inside. He was going to put that on her.

Her fists clenched so hard her fingernails embedded themselves into her palms and cut the skin. Blood oozed in her palms and out on to the table.

Wake up, she chanted to herself, wake up, wake up, wake up.

"Enjoy, Aella." The man said, "You and this hood are going to be very well aquatinted during our time together."

No—No.

She would not break. She would not break.

Her breathing stopped when the cold leather caressed her face. For only a second she paused until the leather became tighter—until she was thrust into complete and utter darkness. She screamed—raw and loud while she thrashed in her bonds. She fought with everything she had left inside of her and tried to shake her head out of the hood.

My name is Aella Barnes, I escaped the Hunger Games twice. My name is Aella Barnes—

The hood slipped completely over her face and she was trapped in the dark. She felt the bite of it across her skin until it tightened. Tightened by the laces behind her head and her body buckled and twisted on the table so ferociously it shook. Hands pinned her to the table and leather wrapped over her shins, her thighs, her hips, her shoulders—they doubled her restraints but she still fought, still screamed even as they grew muffled under the heaviness of the leather.

She felt the rising panic in her chest. Felt claustrophobia cling to her from every angle. 

My name is Aella Barnes, I am from District Five. My name is—

The hood tied off against the final strap at the top of the table. Her body wholly restrained from head to toe. Instilled in sheer darkness and robbed of her hearing. Nothing... she had nothing. They had taken it all. Her most basic senses and they had deprived her of them all just to show her how useless she had become. To remind her they had control.

She couldn't breathe. Her heart was slamming against her chest so hard it hurt. She'd heard of sensory deprivation before and even the mere thought of it had made her palms sweat, had made her panic. Feeling it was a whole new level of fear she'd never felt before.

My name is Aella Barnes, I won't let them break me. My name is Aella Barnes, I am—

He flipped the seal over her mouth and took the only thing she had left. Her mouth opened gulp down the hot air but she found herself choking on nothing. There was no air.

She released a silent scream and prayed, prayed, that someone would find her.

•  •  •

She barely registered the rough hands pushing down against her back while the shackles around her wrists were released. Barely felt the cold stone under her cheek as she laid on the floor staring at nothing. Her body was so numb and she was so tired. The bite of the needle they'd plunged into her neck on the journey from the laboratories to the cells to sedate her still stung. It left her completely defenceless.

Her arms and feet were released from the metal confines and no sooner did the loud slam of her cell gate echo through the damp room. But she didn't move. Not as their footsteps turned distant and the heavy thud of the outside door shuddered through her companions bones.

"Aella it's okay." Peeta said, his voice somewhere far away, "There gone Aella, you can come back. They're not going to hurt you now. They're gone. It's okay, Aella."

Her eyes moved, the only sign of life within her body apart from her shallow breaths and she found Peeta pressed against the iron bars separating them. His eyes were wide, worrisome. She couldn't bring herself to do anything but blink twice at him, I'm okay. Their code for when she returned barely able to heave a deep breath or voice a response.

"Is she okay?" Johanna asked from across the cells.

Peeta nodded before he found words to respond, "Yeah." Was all he could think to say.

She just needed a minute to draw enough strength to move but her limbs still felt heavy. She still felt the weight of those leather bindings strapping her to that cold and unforgiving table. Finnick's malicious eyes flashed before her and she squeezed her eyes shut, a dry sob echoing through the cells. She had no more tears left to produce. Her body was so dehydrated. Her stomach still hurt where he'd stabbed her, that phantom pain taking her breath away and she barely managed to press her hand to abdomen. She didn't know what she expected but she was half relieved when she pulled her hand away to find it clean. No blood anywhere.

So she laid there for a few more minutes, eyes closed and breaths evening out. Peeta began to think she'd passed out from exhaustion. It had happened before when she'd come back in better states. Her small groan told him she was still conscious and he watched as she pushed her body up on her trembling arms and dragged herself toward him like she did every time she returned.

He stuck his arm through the bars, coaxing her along until her fingers slipped into his hand and he helped to pull her tired body forward. They settled against the back wall, resting against the cold bars together, hands intertwined while Aella kept her eyes closed and focused on her breathing. Peeta's eyes roved over her thinning frame for injury but much to his surprise he saw no new cuts, no reddening areas forming. It made his stomach coil. Mental—it had been mental torture that they'd inflicted upon her all those hours she'd been gone.

He held her hand and prayed it gave her enough comfort knowing the last few days had been nothing but hell for her. Every time the Peacekeepers so much as looked at Annie Aella was there, banging on the bars of her cell and mouthing off—anything to distract them away from her. She'd took Annie's torture every time they came for her and she'd taken Johanna's brunt the day before when her best friend had come back unconscious the last time.

But no matter how hard Johanna and Annie fought to claim back that attention once she had it, it never worked. No matter how many times they told her to rest, she didn't listen. Aella took the brunt of it all on her shoulders because the pain she felt when her two friends were brought back to their cells defeated was worse than feeling it herself.

So when she didn't talk when she came back they didn't push her. It was their unspoken rule between the four of them. Never initiate. Never ask. Only listen to what was told and if nothing came out then they wouldn't focus on it. It was all about coping. Holding out for that rescue from District Thirteen Aella hadn't been able to tell Johanna and Annie about because of the cameras watching them day and night.

It became very clear to her three companions after a long silence that Aella didn't want to talk about what had happened. They shared familiar yet sympathetic looks. They got it, they really did.

But Peeta could sense her slipping. Could feel her body tensing and hear her irregular breaths. He needed to guide her back on to the right path and so he asked her something that had been on his mind for a long, long time.

"How do you do it?"

Silence. Not even a hint that she'd heard him even talk before her hoarse voice said, "What?"

"How do you cope? How do you hang on when all you feel like doing is falling apart?" He asked and even his own voice cracked.

Aella squeezed his hand hearing that crack. His question didn't break the rules but she didn't know how to answer him honestly. She was already falling apart.

Her tongue was heavy in her mouth, dry as sandpaper but she tried to moisten it to clear her throat—to clear the remains of her screaming away.

"The mantra of the Districts helps me when I'm having a panic attack." She told him knowing he already knew it. He had already helped her through too many panic attacks. She shifted closer to him, "I find it's best to remind yourself who you are... everything you have achieved, the little things about yourself. It helps to keep that grip—no matter how loose it is—on reality. If I didn't... I think I'd of lost my mind well before now."

He swallowed thickly hearing her confession. He had wondered every time she came back how she hadn't yet broken. If it had been him—the occasional beatings he received were hard enough. The torture she endured... he couldn't imagine it. What he did know though was that she was hands down the bravest person he had ever met and he made it a point to remind her every time those Peacekeepers dumped her broken body on the ground and unshackled her.

"So how would I start?" He asked her.

"Your name is Peeta Mellark." She told him, "You won the seventy-forth Hunger Games."

He nodded and repeated her words.

"Your name is Peeta Mellark, you are from District Twelve." Her heart still ached when she whispered the District. She hadn't been able to avoid telling Peeta it didn't exist anymore. The guilt had eaten her alive until she had woken him up in the dead of night to tell him. He hadn't cried, hadn't asked her about his family... he had simply stared at her in undiluted shock.

Peeta got the idea and he said, "My name is Peeta Mellark, I won the seventy-forth Hunger Games. My name is Peeta Mellark, I am from District Twelve. My name is Peeta Mellark, I am a bakers son."

"Just like that." She said softly, "Maybe a little more personal. Something to remind you who you are."

"My favourite time of day is sunrise." He said, "I'd always watch it out the back door of my fathers bakery when I was at work."

"I like sunrise, too. In the summer especially." She muttered quietly, "I used to watch it every morning before I fell asleep."

She could feel Peeta's confusion when he said, "What?"

"Insomnia." She answered simply.

"I like to paint." Peeta suggested after a minute, "My favourite colour is orange. Soft though... like the sunset."

A faint smile tugged at her chapped lips, "Mine is sea-foam green."

"My name is Peeta Mellark, I won the seventy-forth Hunger Games." He said quietly.

She rose her head from the bars and looked at Peeta in the darkness of the cells, stared into those forest green eyes and said, "My name is Aella Barnes. I made it out of the Hunger Games twice."

"My name is Peeta Mellark, I live in District Twelve."

"My name is Aella Barnes, I live in District Five."

"My name is Peeta Mellark, I am a bakers son."

"My name is Aella Barnes, I won't let him break me." She whispered.

Peeta swallowed thickly when he saw the silver lining her eyes. He squeezed her hand, wrapping it in both of his.

"My name is Peeta Mellark, my favourite time of day is sunrise."

"My name is Aella Barnes, I like sunrises in the summer."

"My name is Peeta Mellark, I like to paint, my favourite colour is sunset orange."

Aella didn't know what she liked to do best but she remembered the collection of books she had stacked in the bookshelf in her old house. Remembered how she liked to lose herself within the pages of fantasy, "My name is Aella Barnes, I like to read. My favourite colour is sea-foam green."

Peeta smiled when he saw her lips curve upward an inch and he shook his head in amusement, "That doesn't go."

"Shush, it's mine. I like it." She responded with a hint of her own amusement—the first he'd seen her display since she'd arrived in the cells.

He pressed his lips against his smile and said, "My name is Peeta Mellark, I am safe."

She nodded and said, "My name is Aella Barnes and I am a survivor."

They sat there, together, until Aella rested her head against the bars that separated them. She wished them away, wished that she could hug him properly instead of intwining their hands together and resting their bodies as close to the bars as they could. They would remain there until she no doubt fell asleep like she always did first but only when she was in the comfort of Peeta when he promised he would protect her.

But his heart was still hurting and his soul was still cleaved open despite the comfort that they offered one another.

"Aella." He whispered into the quiet night.

"Hmm?"

She sounded like she was almost asleep and perhaps she was but he said regardless, "I miss her."

"I know." She replied softly, brushing her thumb over the back of his hand, "I miss him, too."

Silence settled across the walls of the cell, only broken one final time for the Victors to whisper their good-nights to one another. Johanna turned from Aella and Peeta, her back to them while she used her arm as a pillow. Annie curled her knees into her chest for warmth and used the wall to settle into. Aella and Peeta remained intwined together as best they could and one at a time, sleep found them but not before they spent longing hours staring into the darkness thinking about their lovers.

Aella woke at some point during the night, clawing at her throat and unable to breathe. She erupted into loud screams, jolting her cell-mates awake in fear. Peeta guided her through her panic attack, breathed deeply with her until she finally settled again and they slept until the Peacekeepers came storming into the cells to repeat the process all over again.

• • •

A/N; This chapter hurt my heart😢 Next update will be late Friday evening.