Submerged in water, seering pain rushing through me. I can't do anything, not even breathe. All I have are my thoughts. The things I heard while sitting in the graveyard, when I heard one person whisper, "In the midst of life we are in death."

It's come back to haunt me. That quote. The electrical shocks burn my skin and I scream in pain. This is how they chose to torture me. I wouldn't give up any rebel information or spit out secrets I knew about president Snow, so they attached me to shocks and shoved me underwater in a bucket, turning them on. The pain is incredibly horrible.

They second I'm yanked out of the water by my shoulders, I spew a mouthful of it onto the concrete. The man in the white stares at me with his evil eyes, grasping my with clenched fingers. "So, you going to tell us anything you know yet, Miss. Mason?"

I gasp, and in a low hiss I say:

"Never."

I'd rather die for all those people them have them die because of me! I agreed to Haymitch's plan, and these fucking morons don't get that I'm not going to give up that information!

"Very well." His grip loosens. "We'll get it out of you one way or another. It's been a week, and I know you're falling under the pressure. I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere. Oh, wait, you can't!" He laughs sarcastically and strides away, locking up my cell.

But the horror isn't over. In the next cell over, I can actually see Peeta being tortured. It's terrible, and he's screaming. I look away and hear a voice: "TELL US WHAT YOU KNOW!"

Peeta chokes out:

"I don't know anything! I swear! I swear..."

I lean against the wall farthest from the bars opening my cell. I don't know what he's got planned, but it's sure not going to be anything fun. As I choke up more water from my lungs, I wish I was at home. Home. It's already known that nobody in 7 wants me back, so why do I want to be there so bad? Where nobody cares about me. Or likes me...

I don't know.

Suddenly, I remember something Finnick told me in the arena only 2 weeks ago. He had been talking about Katniss and what happened the first day. He told me what he told her. "Nobody in this arena is a Victor by chance."

No. Because we're all murders. We all somehow found it in ourselves to kill. For some, like me, it came easily. For others, like Seeder, it was hard and they really had to force themselves to kill.

Everything in my body screams: Ignore your head and follow your heart!

My head screams: Just give them the information! It'll save your life! Isn't that all you ever cared about?

But my heart says: Don't do it, Johanna. Remeber what you've been doing for the longest time? You've been risking your life for freedom. Not only yours, but everyone's who has suffered in the Hunger Games. Don't do it. For Haymitch. For Finnick. For Peeta and Katniss, who started this shibang. For the thousands who've died in the Hunger Games. And for yourself. The rebellion needs you, dead or alive.

Ignore your head and follow your heart.

Yes. I am going to ignore my head. I'm going to follow my heart from here on out, and I don't care what they do to me, they won't kill me unless I let them. Not on my watch.

The man in the white returns with a case and a chair with ankle and wrist straps. After about 20 minutes and 3 guards, I'm finally wrestled into the chair and strapped down.

"Alright, Johanna. I told you we're going to get the information out of you somehow." He pulls out a . . . head shaver? and begins to work on my hair.

"So where should we start, Miss. Mason?" He asks, teasingly pulling on my short, spiky hair.

He starts at the back and I watch as my hair falls to the ground in big clumps, which means he's obviously doing a terrible job, running the shaver along my head in short, jagged motions. Sometimes he'll dig it into my head on purpose and it hurts, but I barely wince and act like nothings happened.

When it's all gone, he pushes my head down so I see all the hair on the ground and then puts a mirror in front of my face so I can see my reflection.

I don't see Johanna Mason anymore. I see a sleep-deprived rabid animal with sharp claws and teeth, with large, brown eyes full of hatred, because I've got nothing left to care about but the rebellion.

The mirror is pulled away and the man in white walks in a circle around me, as I'm still strapped in my chair.

"So!" He bellows with a mouthful of superiority, then lowers his voice to a snake-like hiss. "Are you ready to give us that rebel information?"

I watch as he pulls out a notebook and recorder, flipping through the pages and pressing the RECORD button.

"Did you help Haymitch plan the arena breakout?"

I grip my hands in fists. Ignore your head and follow your heart.

"I'm not telling you a fucking thing, bastard!" I say, gritting my teeth and clenching my fists so tight they turn white.

"Not even to the recorder, Miss. Mason?" He waves it in my face. I pull my fist up so hard in rage it breaks through the leather holding my wrist down and grab the recorder out of his hand.

"What the-"

I throw it against the wall so hard it breaks into pieces and falls to the ground in seconds.

The man in white scowls. "You little-!"

"I'm not twelve anymore, asshole. You best remember I'm a fuckin' murderer!" My fury throws me into more screams. "I'm not dead yet, and I should be! You know, I've looked death in the face more than once and I'm still here! So don't mess with me or I'll beat your damned ass down!"

I begin to pull out my ankles and my other wrist when the man in white rushes out of my cell it locks it, placing an extra on from his pocket just in case.

And because of my anger, as he's walking away quickly, I scream: "You can't kill me!"

I struggle to pull my fists out of these unbreakable handcuffs. Stupid guards, cuffing my wrists and ankles to the wall. Argh! My bloody, bruised body flops onto the ground before trying to get out of the chains again.

"Let's go have lunch," I hear one guard say.

"Okay."

And they leave. It's just me, Peeta, and Annie, who they picked up from District 4. She's huddled in the corner of her cell, whisper something starting with F that I'll bet is Finnick.

I stop pulling at the chains and drop my hands to the ground, throwing my head back in anger. I need to get out of here!

Suddenly, there's a small rattle coming from above and I see a couple figures coming down. It looks like... District 13 uniforms! Could it be? Suddenly, they toss on masks and one pulls out a huge can the size of a fire extuinguisher. He pulls something and an odd green gas starts filling into the room rapidly.

I'm just wondering if they're here to save me when the gas floats into my cell and I'm immediatly knocked out.

When I wake up, I'm lying in a hospital bed, covered in sheets with all kinds of wires and tubes attached to my damaged body.

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