It's as if all she's ever known is pain. The pain of fire licking her skin. The pain of loss so deep that it's like a stab to the heart. Her entire body, her entire world is pain.
Pain. It's all she knows. It's all she deserves to know.
Then suddenly it stops. It's all gone as if it's never even been there. She feels groggy as she sits up on the table, confused and lost. All the physical pain is still there but the mental pain... That's harder. There's still a deep ache in her heart, a pain that threatens to tear her from the inside out. A name dances on the tip of her tongue (Prim), or would if she dared to speak. But speaking, that's not something she does anymore. Right?
Wrong. Those memories are wrong. She hadn't been on fire. She hadn't woken to the news of her sister's death. She never had to fight Peeta to gain some semblance of his sanity so that she doesn't lose him to the lizard mutts, too. They're a glitch. That's what the video says. It's a glitch and life is normal. There is no pain.
Just to make certain, she watches the video again. And again. And again. Katniss wants to believe. She wants to believe so badly because the memories in her glitch hurt. They hurt so much and she wants them gone. She's a citizen of Alpha Complex. She has a purpose. And that purpose isn't to mourn the tragedy of her sister's death. It isn't to be the uprising's Mockingjay. It isn't to be anyone all that special or anyone broken and lost. She's just a citizen. Just a cog in the machine.
Still, everything feels numb as she goes through all the paperwork. She keeps running her hands up and down her forearms, feeling for the scars and signs of burn grafts that should be there. They're not. All the more reason to think that the computer is correct. She's still running her hands up and down her forearms when she's led out the door.
Daytime | 0900 - 2200 [ota]
She doesn't know how long she actually bothers to listen to Tony. Not all that long really. Katniss doesn't care to hear what he has to say. She also doesn't care to see the Complex. This is supposed to be home. It's supposed to be her home. But all she can think about are the glitched memories. All she can think about is the pain that still stabs at her heart. Prim's gone. She's gone and won't take Katniss with her. She's gone and never coming back.
Rather than reporting to her assigned job, she wanders aimlessly around the Complex. Katniss doesn't pay all that much attention to where she walks. If she finds herself in someone's way, she doesn't notice. If she finds herself leaving RED-level clearance, she doesn't realize. Her head is down, staring at the ground as she whispers to herself, "My name is Katniss Everdeen. I'm seventeen years old. I should be dead. I'm not dead. I live in the Alpha Complex. Why am I not dead?"
Curfew | 2200 [ota]
Eventually, she gives up wandering the halls. Unlike District 13 (real or not real?), it seems harder to find good places to hide. And there's no bracelet on her wrist designating her as mentally unstable to keep others away. So she gives up (because giving up feels so, so easy) and finds her way to her assigned room. Once there, she curls up in one corner of the bed. Katniss sits with her back to the wall, knees hugged tight to her chest. She starts to rock back and forth a little. Her eyes never move from the door, not unless someone enters.
Katniss | open + closed
Pain. Her entire world is pain.
It's as if all she's ever known is pain. The pain of fire licking her skin. The pain of loss so deep that it's like a stab to the heart. Her entire body, her entire world is pain.
Pain. It's all she knows. It's all she deserves to know.
Then suddenly it stops. It's all gone as if it's never even been there. She feels groggy as she sits up on the table, confused and lost. All the physical pain is still there but the mental pain... That's harder. There's still a deep ache in her heart, a pain that threatens to tear her from the inside out. A name dances on the tip of her tongue (Prim), or would if she dared to speak. But speaking, that's not something she does anymore. Right?
Wrong. Those memories are wrong. She hadn't been on fire. She hadn't woken to the news of her sister's death. She never had to fight Peeta to gain some semblance of his sanity so that she doesn't lose him to the lizard mutts, too. They're a glitch. That's what the video says. It's a glitch and life is normal. There is no pain.
Just to make certain, she watches the video again. And again. And again. Katniss wants to believe. She wants to believe so badly because the memories in her glitch hurt. They hurt so much and she wants them gone. She's a citizen of Alpha Complex. She has a purpose. And that purpose isn't to mourn the tragedy of her sister's death. It isn't to be the uprising's Mockingjay. It isn't to be anyone all that special or anyone broken and lost. She's just a citizen. Just a cog in the machine.
Still, everything feels numb as she goes through all the paperwork. She keeps running her hands up and down her forearms, feeling for the scars and signs of burn grafts that should be there. They're not. All the more reason to think that the computer is correct. She's still running her hands up and down her forearms when she's led out the door.
Daytime | 0900 - 2200 [ota]
She doesn't know how long she actually bothers to listen to Tony. Not all that long really. Katniss doesn't care to hear what he has to say. She also doesn't care to see the Complex. This is supposed to be home. It's supposed to be her home. But all she can think about are the glitched memories. All she can think about is the pain that still stabs at her heart. Prim's gone. She's gone and won't take Katniss with her. She's gone and never coming back.
Rather than reporting to her assigned job, she wanders aimlessly around the Complex. Katniss doesn't pay all that much attention to where she walks. If she finds herself in someone's way, she doesn't notice. If she finds herself leaving RED-level clearance, she doesn't realize. Her head is down, staring at the ground as she whispers to herself, "My name is Katniss Everdeen. I'm seventeen years old. I should be dead. I'm not dead. I live in the Alpha Complex. Why am I not dead?"
Curfew | 2200 [ota]
Eventually, she gives up wandering the halls. Unlike District 13 (real or not real?), it seems harder to find good places to hide. And there's no bracelet on her wrist designating her as mentally unstable to keep others away. So she gives up (because giving up feels so, so easy) and finds her way to her assigned room. Once there, she curls up in one corner of the bed. Katniss sits with her back to the wall, knees hugged tight to her chest. She starts to rock back and forth a little. Her eyes never move from the door, not unless someone enters.