Catching Fire: Prim [Completed]

Chapter 8: Be With You

"No!" I cry, pushing through the crowd with full force. It's too late to stop the whip, and I know I can't do anything about it. Instead I throw myself between the whip and Rory. I close my eyes as the whip lashes across my right cheek. The pain is immediate, and it burns like nothing I've ever felt before. I feel it swell immediately, but instead I'm focused on Rory's blood sprawled across the floor.

"Don't hurt him! Stop! He'll die!" I exclaim as I squat down on the floor. I look up at the assailant's face, and I know he isn't from here. 'Cruel' is written all over his face, and his dark black eyes glow with darkness. He lifts his arm again, and all I can do is close my eyes, anticipating his next whip.

"Stop!" Someone barks. Haymitch. He clomps up to me and lifts me up to my feet in one smooth motion.

"Great, just great," he mutters. "She's got a photo shoot next week, what'm I suppose to tell her stylist?!"

"She has interrupted the punishment of a confessed criminal."

The way he talks, his looks, his aura- everything seems to be a warning, telling me he's dangerous, that there's something evil about his presence. Where's he from? District 1? 2? Or from the Capitol itself?

"I don't care what she's done, look at her cheek! Think that will be camera ready in a week?" Haymitch growls.

The man's voice is still cold, but I can detect a slight edge of doubt. "That's not my problem."

"It isn't? Well it's about to be, because the first call I make when I get home, is to the Capitol!" says Haymitch. "Find out who authorized you to mess up my victor's pretty little face!"

"He was poaching. What business is it of hers, anyway?" says the man.

"He's her friend," Katniss steps up, holding onto my shoulders. "And she's my sister, so if you want to get to him," points to Rory, "you have to go through both of us!"

Our actions are bold, and I know that they would bring consequences. But for now my priority is to keep Rory alive. The new head peacekeeper looks over at his backup squad, and a rush of relief floods in when I realize they're all old friends from our neighbourhood, ones you could often see at the Hob. One of them, I think her name is Purnia, steps forward stiffly and says,

"I believe the required amount of lashes have been exceeded, sir. If your sentence is death, that would be carried out by the firing squad."

"Is that proper protocol here?" he questions.

"Yes sir," Purnia replies, and several others nod. I'm pretty sure none of them knew this stuff, or if this was even true, because proper protocol here for someone bringing up a wild turkey is to bid on the drumsticks.

"Very well then, folks. Take your friend, young girl. Remind him that if he ever poaches again, I'll be ordering the firing squad personally that time. Farewell then." He then walks away, and the sound of his boots dwindle. The other peacekeepers fall into an awkward formation behind him and march away.

"Rory!" I cry once more, throwing myself to the ground near him. Somehow a knife ends up in my hand and I'm cutting the ropes as quickly as I can. When I finally release him, he collapses onto the cold hard ground.

"We got to get him home," I say to no one in particular, gritting my teeth as I start picking him up. Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch all help me. Katniss' friend, Leevy, runs up and asks if we need help. But Katniss is quick to decline her offer, and instead tells her to run to Hazelle, tell her what's happened, to come over.

"Prim, get some snow on that," Haymitch tells me, gesturing towards my cheek. I nod and follow his directions, and thankfully it helps numb to pain to an extent. When I get back to the group, some of Rory's friends are there, helping, and they fill us in on what happened.