"No!No!No! You're doing it wrong!"
Apparently the 'teacher' does not like what I wrote down. I am having lessons in the 'school' on why the rebellion is supposedly correct in every way; these lesions are little more than the 'teacher' ranting for hours on end while I am required to take notes. I guess my notes were not up to his standards.
"Is something wrong with my notes?"
"Yes, your notes show that you are resistant to our cause. Why do you maintain your loyalty to the tyrants? Don't throw your life away for greedy Capitolites."
I just roll my eyes. He does not like that my notes that my notes have the word "supposedly" in front of the BS facts he is spouting. Still, I have not done much else to make these assholes think I'm loyal to the old regime.
Among the lies these rebels are unsuccessfully trying to plant in my head are that the rebellion is improving the quality of life for district people, the families of several victors were murdered by peacekeepers, District 12 was really destroyed by the Capitol, and victors were forced into prostitution. These claims bare no resemblance to reality in any way, so I can see that they are just rebel propaganda.
When I watch the lessons the rebel soldiers get, I am convinced most of the falsehood of it by how the rebel soldiers react. They do not question, they do not think about it, they do not ask "why"; they just repeat and believe.
So far my week has been spent as the sole prisoner in this small camp. My diet has consisted of inedible grain mush and small sips of water, though it is hard to keep down I force myself to eat it because I need to keep up my strength.
The cage I am in is cold and drafty, and there is barley enough space sit curled up in a ball. I have one bowl to eat from, and if I have to use the restroom I need to ask the guards first and hope they are not in an asshole mood.
I was stripped of my armor, but at least they let me keep my uniform. They don't know how to use my communicator, and it is sitting in a crate with my other things. The crate is all the way next to the barracks.
My sword is currently in the hands of one of the prison guards; the corporal does not know how to play high-low jacks or gamble in general. I still will need to kill someone if I want it back.
I have several methods to keep moral high; I remind myself who I am every hour, I think of what Cato would do in this situation, I think of what my grandfather would do in this situation, and I remind myself that Peacekeepers do not give up.
I need to keep my moral high because the news the rebels give me, while probably pulled out of their asses, is still terrifying. They claim that the rebels have taken most of,the central city and the Peacekeeper army is cornered in The Acropolis. I have no non-rebel source to ask, so I am forced to assume that the situation is still stable and the Rebs have not set foot in the Central City.
I have still not given up the hope of escape. I want to escape, that much is true. I will remain focused on my surroundings so that when the chance comes I will be ready.