Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins owns the Underland Chronicles; I only own this plot. Three Days Grace owns 'Animal I Have Become'; I only own nothing of that angle. Just the way it was used, anyway.
A/N: Written because this is such an inspiring song. Thanks to Prophe, I guess, for reading it and telling me it was fine the way it was. XD
Also, I realize it contradicts itself a bit at the end. But idk, it fits.
. . .
Rager
Hurriedly walking through the busy streets, Gregor shoved his hands deep in his jeans pockets. His breathing was rapid. The buzzing feeling was alive in his veins, his vision slightly fragmented. He tried to think of happier things. He tried to turn off the feeling.
But he honestly couldn't. It was hard to do this, to even slightly keep the instinct at bay. It was something Gregor couldn't control. It wasn't his fault; he didn't want this gift.
I can't escape this hell
So many times I've tried
But I'm still caged inside
Somebody get me through this nightmare
I can't control myself
Footsteps were pursuing him. "Please leave me alone," prayed Gregor. He wouldn't be able to help a thing. He would not be able to stop himself. He would not be able to quit once he'd started. But still he heard the man following him.
So what if you can see the darkest side of me
No one will ever change this animal I have become
Help me believe it's not the real me
Somebody help me tame this animal!
This animal, this animal
Nobody could find out Gregor's secret. So Gregor could simply not let the sense take him over as he used to let it, back when he still fought. Fighting wouldn't help Gregor anymore. Killing wouldn't do a thing for him. All that'd happen if he killed somebody was jail. And that couldn't happen. Gregor had his family to take care of. Mrs. Cormaci couldn't help them forever. So he had to be careful.
Yet as the dull thudding continued relentlessly behind Gregor, the footsteps' pace echoing his own, Gregor felt his will slipping. The buzzing was getting more dominant, louder and louder.
I can't escape myself
So many times I've lied
But there's still rage inside
Somebody get me through this nightmare
I can't control myself
Whirling around, Gregor faced a tall man, clad in plain ripped jeans and a black T-shirt. It surprised Gregor that he wasn't wearing black, wasn't shading his face like the bad guy on all of the T.V. shows. Gregor found himself wishing this wasn't a person, but a rat. Something he was used to fighting.
So what if you can see the darkest side of me
No one will ever change this animal I have become
Help me believe it's not the real me
Somebody help me tame this animal I have become
Help me believe it's not the real me
Somebody help me tame this animal
The man's face was long and weary. His dark eyes bored into Gregor's, burning with an intense…what was the word? Gregor wondered. It wasn't hate. It was need. What this man needed Gregor didn't know, and he knew he would never find out.
It was too late. Gregor's vision fragmented so that he could only see where his blows would be fatal. Gregor could only hear the blood roaring in his ears.
Somebody help me through this nightmare
I can't control myself
Somebody wake me from this nightmare
I can't escape this hell
Gregor didn't think. His arms flew, punching and tearing. He wasn't aware of the inhumane cries that he let out. A sticky substance was flowing freely from his victim, staining Gregor's skin and clothes. He didn't notice when the man stopped fighting back—it was a useless task, anyhow. This man was defenseless against Gregor.
Anybody was defenseless against Gregor.
This animal, this animal
This animal, this animal
This animal, this animal
This animal
Finally, Gregor stopped. He panted, his hands resting on his knees. He took in the image of the man on the ground. Lying lifeless, his blood pooling out around him on the concrete and the grass, and Gregor felt pain spread through him.
He didn't know this man. Maybe he had had good intentions when following Gregor. "Of course he didn't!" Gregor thought heatedly. "It's his fault he didn't leave me alone...."
Gregor wiped his grimy hands on his jeans. He blinked repeatedly. He couldn't have done this…
Help me believe it's not the real me
Somebody help me tame this animal!
This animal I have become
But he had. And he could change nothing.
Killing was natural for Gregor, after all these years. He still was unable to control his instinct. This wasn't his fault…
Gregor turned his back on the body that lay sprawled on the sidewalk, obscured slightly by a few scrawny bushes. This man was one of many.
He could barely feel the guilt anymore. It was still there, of course—all humans had to feel remorse. It wasn't as if Gregor didn't have a conscience. But it was a duller ache than it would be for a normal person.
With a simple shrug, Gregor began to walk off. Killing was natural. Killing was the point of being a rager.
. . .