Written for this month's Starvation. Hope you enjoy.
The Hunger Games belong to Suzanne Collins.
Dreams are good. Dreams are safe. Dreams don't hurt you. Dreams don't betray you.
Reality is bad. Reality hurts. Reality always gives you a knife in the back.
The placid dreams started with a slight sharp pain as the needle injected morphling into her arm. Her addiction hadn't been so bad, before. She used to be perfectly healthy. Tip-top shape. But then the games came and they ruined her life.
She was forced into the games alongside her younger brother. Her district was horrified at the thought of siblings being forced to kill each other in the arena. They wanted both of them to win, but that was, of course, impossible.
Her brother was set to win. He was cute, funny, and likable. He was strong, quick, agile. He should have won. He should have lived.
The arena was practically built for District 6. There were plants and roots everywhere that could be made into medicine and food. He should have won the games. He should have strolled out of the Capitol alive and fine, ready to see all of his friends and family. The district would move on without her. She did not make much of an impact in it, but he, he changed days of many. He could cheer up someone just by talking to them and listening to their problems. The district would be heavily affected without him.
The luscious jungle of the games hid the many betrayals. When the games started, she ignored the Cornucopia and just ran for the trees. She tried not to leave her brother to fend for himself, but her instincts overtook her and she bolted from her starting plate.
Dreams don't give you pain. Reality never keeps its promises.
They promised to team together. They promised that they would find someway to beat the odds and the rules and get out of the games together.
He betrayed her. He teamed up with the Careers instead of her. Together, they would have been invincible. Together, they would have stayed alive. But he broke their promise. He killed other tributes. The innocent little boy she had once known had grown up to be a ruthless killing machine.
Dreams are for the optimistic. Reality is for the depressed.
It was a hot summer day, right after a couple days of heavy rain. There was water everywhere, if you knew how to find it. Sadly, most tributes didn't. Those died within the first few days. Most of the tributes were killed off by the Careers. Whoever was left must have been incredibly intelligent. She knew today was too calm. Something would happen, and that something would most likely happen to her.
She didn't want to leave her hiding place. She was well above in the trees, far away from the others. But, she noticed another, smaller tribute lurking around in her tier. She didn't want to risk her life for her comfort.
When she hit the ground, she knew something was wrong. Very, very wrong. The noises of the jungle were strangely absent and it was far too calm for all of the animals that lived here. A knife whizzed by her ear, and she instinctively whipped her head to the source.
She turned in time to see the blur of her brother jump out from behind a nearby bush and stab her literally in the back.
Dreams don't stab you in the back. Reality does.
Her brother had a stone cold expression as she asked him why he had done such a thing. Why he broke their promise. He didn't respond. He just stared at her stoically.
She gasped for air. She knew she would die soon. What ever happened to the other tributes? She had lost track of time and who was dead. Maybe they were the only two left. Maybe he would go home safe and sound.
She hoped. She couldn't be sure that they were the last two left, but it seemed like it form her point of view. He furiously whispered in her ear, telling her that they were the final two. So he is going home. That's best for all. She attempted to congratulate him, to say her last words, but he slit his own wrist before she could. Now it was a race as to who would die first form blood loss. She prayed to god that she would die first.
He took his knife and cut himself up more. He wanted to die. It was too unfair. Doesn't he realize that it's best for everyone if he lived instead of her? She wished she could reach her dagger so she could try to hurt herself. He was bleeding out badly now. He would die within a few minutes, and there was nothing she could do about it.
"Why did you do all of this?" She asked feebly.
He stared at her, his stoic expression softening. A smile was almost upon his lips. "Because you're my big sister." His eyes rolled back and he was gone. Her little brother. Her light in a dark tunnel. Everyone's light in a dark tunnel. Gone, because she couldn't die earlier. Because she didn't realize his plan earlier. Because she didn't try to understand him earlier.
And now he's gone. She would not be able to talk to him anymore. To hug him. To hold him close.
Dreams are happy. Reality is sad.
The tears rolled down her face with no sign of stopping. Her face contorted into an unrecognizable expression that conveyed a mixture of sadness, anger, and desperation.
The plane quickly pulled the both of them up before she died along with her brother. They carted her off into a room separate from her brother's carcass. She desperately screamed for him to come back to her, to fulfill their promise and win the games together. But reality doesn't follow your plan. Reality decides its own course.
She did not intend to become addicted to morphling, but during her hospital stay after the games, she found out that in her dreams, she could be with her brother again. She could live her life with her brother in her dreams. She could make the world however she wanted it. She could get rid of the traumatizing Hunger Games. She could do anything she wanted. No unexpected variables, no life changing events.
Dreams are nice. Dreams are happy. Dreams are calm. People you love come back in your dreams.
She repeats her mantra over and over as the morphling enters her bloodstream. This time, in her dream, her brother was getting married to his love. He was happy. Safe. He never went into the games. He never stabbed her in the back. He never died.
Dreams were better. Reality is for those without trauma.
I hope it was obvious that it was from the District 6 morphling addict's point of view.