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KILL FOR YOUR LOVE.

act three.

(chapter forty-eight, oranges. double-knot. switching knives)

the white room, 75 ADD.

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DR. CLAMPITT DID NOT return back to the white room of hell after Juniper had attacked her. The woman spent all day laying in the blood-stained sheets, nose numb and swollen, as she waited for the door to burst open, but it never did. She was completely alone for the entire day with no Peacekeepers' bringing her breakfast or dinner and her stomach was growling, roaring, and whimpering. 

The Hale girl had no idea what time it was, but she was sure a full day had passed as she was curled up in a tight ball in an attempt to diminish the pain in her stomach. The last meal she had was the chicken and grain and Juniper sighed at the thought of it. She would even eat the freezing cold porridge if she was given it again. Her stomach would not be silent and would not back down with its roaring that Juniper nearly begged it to. 

But she couldn't do anything to take her mind off of it. Juniper was sure Clampitt would not be returning after she had attacked her and she wouldn't dare exercising on an empty stomach again. She wasn't even sure if her limbs could take standing up. The searing, beating pain came back and was enveloping her entire being. It trickled from up her feet, to her legs, to her stomach, spreading to the tip of her fingers, all the way until it reached the top of her head. It infected every muscle, joint, and bone in Juniper's body and that, doubled with not eating for nearly a week, the woman was in severe pain. 

She could feel the tears dribbling down her cheeks, soaking into the blood-stained quilts as she laid in a curled ball. The blankets still felt as if Juniper was laying on a hundred pins, but the pain that flared through her entire body numbed it after a while. 

How did it come to this? How did Juniper deserve this? Three years ago, she was a seventeen-year-old girl who stole meat from the Barn of Death with her twin, laughing as they tripped the farmer over during their escape. She was pure back then. Innocent. Unknowing. But now, at twenty, she was a killer. A murderer. Victor of the Seventy-Second Hunger Games. Reaped for the Third Quarter Quell. Locked in the white room of hell with her stomach rumbling.

What had Juniper done to deserve this? She knew people's blood was on her hands, she knew that and she would have to live with that. But what had she done to deserve this?  To be trapped within the Capitol's grasp with no escape? She tried to do what Plutarch told her, to protect Katniss. And she was alive, wasn't she?

Or maybe she wasn't. 

Was Katniss dead? Did Plutarch leave her in the arena because Katniss was dead? But she couldn't be. There were only two cannons that fired on the last night of the Quell. Chaff and Brutus. But what if Katniss died after destroying the arena? She could have been electrified, she could have been crushed by the falling panels. So much could have happened to her and it would make sense why Plutarch had left Juniper in there. The arena was destroyed so no cannons would fire. The Gamemakers' would have no clue who died. 

But then suddenly, Juniper furrowed her brows. What if Plutarch tried to get her, but couldn't? What if the Capitol was already there by the time he picked everyone else up? But no, Plutarch must have purposely left her there because if he managed to get all the other tributes, then why couldn't he get one more? Why did he not get Juniper?

There was no point in thinking about it now. The Hale woman realised that as she remained curled in a ball. She would be punished for attacking Clampitt, probably killed. She didn't want to spend her last moments crying over how Plutarch Heavensbee didn't retrieve her from the arena. That was something she would just have to accept. In Plutarch's eyes, she was not important. She was not worthy of saving. 

And maybe he was right. 

Juniper did not do her all in protecting Katniss. She despised the girl. The only time the Hale woman protected Katniss Everdeen was when she held onto her when the Cornucopia spun and when she went down with the wire. Juniper did not do her all, but shouldn't Plutarch still protect her? 

The Victor sighed. She didn't know what was true and what wasn't. She didn't know what happened. All she knew was that Plutarch promised that he would rescue her from the arena, but he didn't. All Juniper knew was that the Capitol had locked her in the white room of hell. 

And so, Juniper tried to think back to something else other than Plutarch, Clampitt, or the white room of hell. She thought back to the dreams she was having, memories. What did they mean? Juniper first dreamt of Brent Higgins, and then Gloss, and then Blight, and then Beetee. But did she? As she tried to think back to them, they were all fuzzy and blurry. She couldn't remember exactly what was in the dreams. 

She knew that she dreamt of the interviews for the Seventy-Fourth. And then did she dream of the Tribute Parade for that same year? Juniper couldn't remember, but the name Wade Rankine came to mind. He was the Victor of the Seventy-Third and the Hale woman was sure she had attended his party at the Capitol that symbolised the end of his Victory Tour. And then was it Brent's Reaping? Everything was hazy. There were people in her dreams. What people? 

Feathers. Dirt. Stars. 

Oranges. Double-knot. Switching knives. 

Three new phrases popped into Juniper's head as she tried to think back to her dreams. Oranges, double-knot, and switching knives. What did those mean? The Hale woman could see three vague figures at the back of her head. Two were tall whilst one was small. She couldn't see their faces, only the blurry outline of their bodies. Who were they? Were they people she had met back in Ten when she was younger?

Feathers. Dirt. Stars. 

Oranges. Double-knot. Switching knives. 

Juniper groaned in the confusion as she uncurled herself, laying on her back as she stared at the white ceiling. She could feel her stomach growling, her joints aching. She was in pain. Mentally and physically. She was being starved by her capturers. Three beings tormented her brain. Dreams, memories came and went. And Juniper had no idea how to stop any of it. 

She was an idiot for attacking Clampitt. She was an idiot for not eating the cold porridge. Why had she taken risks? Why did she gamble her life? The Hale woman knew what the Capitol was capable of. She had seen it, felt it. She knew what the Capitol could do to her and yet, she had attacked one of their head doctors, rejected one of their meals. Juniper should have known that they would take all of her food away. She should have known. 

At the thought of Clampitt, Juniper clenched her jaw. Where was she? She hadn't come in the day before. Was she being treated? Did she resign? Where was she? She should have bruises around her neck, but she wouldn't be dead. Her voice would be hoarse and rough and she would probably be in a neck brace if Juniper had applied enough pressure, but she wouldn't have died. The Hale woman slightly wished she had, but then, if the doctor had died, Juniper would get punished. Or Finnick would get punished. Or Lucy. Or Orion.

"Miss Hale." 

Juniper sat up quickly and nearly blanched at the sight of Dr. Clampitt in the archway of the open door. The woman looked decent for nearly getting killed. Her dark hair was done in a braid down her back, glasses perched on the tip of her nose. But there was splotchy bruising on her neck that looked painful with Clampitt wincing as she swallowed. It was a mixture of yellow, green, and purple. But that wasn't the only thing she noticed about the woman. She was flanked by two Peacekeepers' and one was holding metal handcuffs. 

"Brought friends, have you?" Juniper mumbled as she sat cross-legged on the bed. She could feel her heart rising. 

But the doctor didn't answer as she nodded at the soldiers. They walked forwards and whilst one clamped two, strong palms on Juniper's biceps, the other roughly took ahold of her hands and slammed the handcuffs on. The sudden tightness and coolness of the metal made the Hale woman shudder as she was sure her blood circulation would be cut off in the cuffs. 

"Miss Hale," Clampitt said again, voice croaky and quiet. Another Peacekeeper came in, rolling a trolley that had a brand new, modernised television on it. "Can I show you another clip or are you going to attack me again?" 

Juniper didn't answer, but merely raised a brow. Clampitt wasn't holding a black tape in her hands, but the woman noticed that there was a remote on the trolley. She clenched her jaw as she watched the doctor stand beside the television, but away from her. The Peacekeepers' kept a tight hold on Juniper as they watched her. They were waiting to see if she would attack and Juniper figured that they wouldn't tear their eyes away from her for even a moment. 

"Aren't you going to ask what clip I'm going to show you?" Clampitt asked, but she had some difficulty in speaking. She stopped to regain her breath every second word. 

Juniper didn't answer. 

"Well, that's good." Clampitt nodded. "I don't really feel like explaining things. My own doctor told me to not speak that much." 

"I thought you were a doctor?" Juniper sneered. 

"Like I've said... not that kind of doctor." 

Juniper rolled her eyes as she glanced up at the Peacekeepers'. Clampitt reached to grab the remote and stared at it for a while. It took a moment before the doctor aimed the controller at the television, gingerly pressing a button. When she did, the screen immediately came to life, but it didn't pop or crackle. Instead, the Capitol Anthem blared and the seal appeared in the centre of the shot. 

"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid."

Juniper froze.

Her eyes went wide as her heart went cold. She could feel all her internal organs shutting down. She could feel the blood stop pumping around her body. The growling of her stomach ceased. The pain numbed. The only thing working in Juniper's being was her face as it became twisted into an expression that bordered both shock and disgust. 

His body was lying there. Cold, grey, motionless. He was leaning against the tree, a deep, thick gash in his throat, blood pouring out. Tears were on his cheeks. There was a hole in his abdomen. Justice's dead corpse was the first thing Juniper saw as she heard District Ten's prayer be echoed around. 

The shot changed to include seventeen-year-old Juniper in it. Her face was red from sobbing. Snot ran down her nose. Eyes were glossed over. She was covered in mud. Her hair was tangled with knots. Blood was speckled over her. The bloody knife was laying beside her. 

The knife she killed Justice with. 

Juniper couldn't even begin to cry as she looked at Clampitt, then at the screen, then at the Peacekeepers', and back at the TV. She could feel herself panting as she furrowed her brows tightly. She was choking on thin air as she stared at Justice's dead body. Her bottom lip was trembling. And she nearly let out a groan of regret when the microphones picked up the sound of rustling coming from the bushes behind her. 

It seemed more dramatic. The camera panned to Justice's corpse, then to Juniper, then to the bushes. The sounds were louder. The Hale girl's sobbing. The whispering of the shrubs. Footsteps. Any Capitol person would be clinging to the edge of their seat. They would be biting at their newly manicured nails, having no idea what was happening. But Juniper knew what was happening. She knew who caused the rustling of the bushes. 

But seventeen-year-old Juniper didn't. She didn't know what was coming from the shrubs. All she knew was that her brother forced her to kill him. All she knew was that someone was coming, running towards the area. And all she knew was that there was a knife next to her in the mud. 

The knife she killed Justice with. 

"Juniper! How's Justice—?" 

The foreign voice entered the bushy area. But it wasn't a foreign voice. It was a well-known one, but that didn't stop Juniper from picking up the knife, turning around, and slinging it at whoever decided to rush into the clearing. Twenty-year-old Juniper winced as her younger self blinked, seeing that the knife she had thrown was lodged right into the heart of Ash, District Seven. 

"What...?"

Juniper watching felt puke rise as she heard Ash's cannon echo, his face morphed into a look of pain and betrayal as his body fell down into the dirt. Justice's corpse had fallen face-first into the mud at the same time. And so, young Juniper Hale was surrounded by two bodies, her brother and her ally, with blood on her hands, tears streaming down her face. Twenty-year-old Juniper could feel tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She couldn't even raise her hands to flick them away. 

The camera zoomed in on her face. And in that moment, everyone saw how her expression turned from deep sorrow to utter rage as she stared at Ash's body. To her, he could've stopped Leona from even going near Justice. He could have prevented her brother's death. But twenty-year-old Juniper knew that he couldn't have. She knew none of it was Ash's fault. She just wanted to believe it was, what she tried to tell her brain so she didn't blame herself for killing Justice. 

"Juniper?" A voice echoed around the area, followed by frantic footsteps. The noises seemed louder than they truly were. "Juniper? June...!" 

Juniper, on the screen, stood up, shaking as she walked over to Ash's body. She saw the silver sword resting beside him and with shaking fingertips, she rubbed the tears off her face as she picked it up, admiring it. A look of insanity began to set into her face. 

"Ash?" The voice yelled. "Ash, where are you? Ash, please!" 

The Victor felt a sigh be trapped in her throat as she began to choke at the sight of Cedar, District Seven. Her brown hair was glimmering in the sunlight. Her freckles were dotted lightly on her face, a large gash down her cheek bleeding slightly. Twenty-year-old Juniper found herself to be mesmerised by her honey eyes. She had always been mesmerised by Cedar. The beauty she held. But Juniper on the screen wasn't. She was previously, but now, she stared at Cedar with utter hatred. 

"June?" Cedar's voice wavered. She flashed her eyes down at Ash's dead body and held a sob as she looked at Justice. Then she looked back at Juniper. "June... what did you do?" 

"You could have stopped it..." Juniper had mumbled. She sounded like a lunatic. "You saw... I know you saw her."

"Saw who?" Cedar whimpered. She looked and sounded terrified. "Saw who, June?" 

"The girl... Leona... you saw her rushing to Justice..." Juniper muttered. Her eyes were empty. She looked dead. "You saw her stab Justice... you could have stopped it... you both could have stopped it." 

Juniper felt the Peacekeepers' grasp tighten on her biceps as the cameras zoomed in on Cedar's face. Realisation looked to be settling in as she eyed Ash's body once more and then at the gash on Justice's neck and abdomen. She put the pieces together quickly. 

"June... it's me... it's Cedar... I didn't kill Justice, and neither did Ash, and neither did you—" 

"Cedar... Cedar... Cedar," Juniper drawled as a lone tear rolled down her cheek. She was panting heavily. "Cedar... Cedar... Cedar." 

"Are you going to kill me, June?" Cedar was crying as she fiddled with her axe. Juniper, watching, felt her heart break. "Is this what it's led to?"

"You killed Justice, you need to pay." 

"The Capitol killed Justice, June!" Cedar yelled. "I didn't do anything and neither did Ash! Okay, so maybe Leona stabbed your brother, maybe you slit his throat, but don't blame me! Snap out of it, June!"

("June, no," her father told her harshly, lifting up her head and grasping her cheeks with his big hands. "Don't you dare apologise... this is Snow's fault.")

The minute Cedar had yelled, Juniper began to charge at her, commencing the fight between them. But the Victor watching shook her head at how imprecise her slashes were. She was clumsy with her footing. She was messy with her swings. But so was Cedar. It was a game of misses. 

But as Cedar attempted to back away, seventeen-year-old Juniper quickly took ahold of her shoulder, swinging her around and kicking her in the back of the leg. Because of this, Cedar went tumbling to the ground as Juniper pointed her sword at her. 

"I don't know what's gotten into you, but you need to stop this!" Cedar snapped as she panted, crawling backwards on the mud. 

"Only one wins..." Juniper had mumbled as her future self, watching, winced at how hollow she was, how numb she was to even consider making her sentences make sense. 

Cedar, however, bit her tongue before sticking out her leg, swiping it across as she knocked Juniper's ankle. She fell down into her mud, causing half her face to be covered in it as Cedar rushed over to her, taking ahold of her shoulders. 

"Stop this, June..." Cedar begged. "You need to snap out of this... what's gotten into you?" 

The Victor felt herself become sick in the stomach as she watched how her younger self spat in Cedar's face, shrugging her hands off her shoulders. She took ahold of her and slammed her down into the mud. Cedar was yelling incoherently, but Juniper ignored them as she straddled her abdomen, pinning her arms down with her knees as she reached her hand back into a fist. But the minute she brought it down, Cedar caught it and immediately head-butted Juniper, causing her to go crashing backwards. 

"June!" Cedar yelled as she stalked over to her, holding her head as she kicked Juniper in the side of her ribs. "Calm yourself down!" 

"Shut up..." Juniper groaned as she attempted to get up, kneeling down. Her entire being was covered in mud and the cameras made it look very dramatic. It was no wonder why the Capitol people looked forward to the Games every year.

"What?" 

"I said, shut up!" 

Seventeen-year-old Juniper got up from where she kneeled and tackled Cedar to the floor. But this time she didn't hesitate to bring her fist backwards before slamming it down right into Cedar's freckled face again and again. And Juniper, at twenty, could feel herself become lightheaded, could feel a tear trickle down from her eye, as she heard the bones in Cedar's beautiful face crack and snap. Insane, poor Juniper Hale didn't stop punching the girl until Cedar's perfect, freckled, gorgeous face was a fractured, broken, bloody mess. She didn't stop until she reached over for the sword and slammed its blade into the girl from Seven multiple times. 

When the cannon went off, the television went to black. 

But this time, Clampitt didn't say anything. She just nodded at the two Peacekeepers' to let her go as she began to walk to the door. One soldier took the trolley and rolled it out whilst the other slammed and locked the door behind them. Juniper still had her handcuffs on. 

But she didn't care. She didn't even notice that the three of them were gone. Juniper was just sitting there as she played the clip over and over in her head. She had killed Cedar. She had destroyed her beautiful face. Juniper always loved her face, even when she first saw her at the Reaping recaps. She always loved Cedar. 

But she killed her. The girl was dead because of Juniper. And so, it wasn't long before the Hale woman, the Victor, leaned backwards on the blood-stained quilts and allowed the tears to flow in a steady stream. As she did, she could feel every little pain come back to her being. Her organs were restarting. Blood was pumping again. Her stomach was growling. The three, blurred figures came back. 

Feathers. Dirt. Stars.

Oranges. Double-knot. Switching knives.

Juniper had killed Cedar.