This fic contains mentions of suicide. The views of the character are NOT the views of the author. If you have suicidal thoughts PLEASE, please call a suicide prevention hotline. This is also extremely dark and may contain triggers. You have been warned.
She kicked the Capitol shoes off, heels making small scuffs on the walls. She glared at the marks, willing them away. But the black dents remained, mocking her. They were always mocking here, crowning her hair in gold and covering her skin in silk.
She ran into the bathroom and scrubbed her skin raw. She washed all the makeup off, the shimmering powder, the dark, smokey shadow. She scrubbed until her skin was clean and red, then scrubbed again. Colorful water swirled down the drain.
Then she ripped off the dress. Golden threads, soft as silk, were scattered across the floor. The tight bodice torn in two. The long, graceful skirt, abandoned in a pile on the plush floor. Even the silk underclothes were ripped off and left on the ground for the Avoxes to deal with.
She dressed herself in her own clothing. White underclothes, made of sturdy cotton. A simple brown dress, one she would wear at home. She drenched her curled hair and brushed out the ringlets and dye. She slipped her feet into soft cotton slippers and walked.
Internally, she debated. Water, fire, earth, air. Which thing did she want to be her last? It was late, no one would notice if she slipped away. She could fly like a bird, swim like a fish, dance like the Capitol puppet she was, it didn't matter.
Fire was out. She disliked the heat, and she wouldn't want it to be the last thing she felt. She didn't want the flames to lick up her body, fiery tongues licking her tender skin. She would cry out for help, and she wouldn't succeed.
Burying herself was out as well. She didn't want the soil to surround her. She didn't want it too fill up her lungs, drying out her mouth. She didn't want to be tucked away, she wanted to be found too late. So, that wouldn't do.
Cool metal, cutting across skin was too easy to fix. She'd tried once before, and they're stopped her. They'd drugged her til she was flying in her mind. There was nothing sharp in her room anymore, nothing to slice open purple veins with.
Water, too, would be easily thwarted. She could walk out into the water, but they might pull her back out. They could pump her heart back to life, make her cough up the water in her lungs. That wouldn't do, even if it was peaceful after a while.
Jumping would be simple enough, if not for the force fields. She could climb up, up and onto the room and fly. But the force field would throw her back, unharmed. There was nowhere she could fly, she she would not go by air.
Drugs, she supposed, were the obvious choice. She could hoard her pills, acting like the happy little Victor she was supposed to be. Then, when she had enough, she could finally get out. But no, they would notice it, she wasn't a very good actor. And they could still fix her, she might not win.
A bullet to the brain would be easy. She would just need to steal a gun from a Peacekeeper, pull the trigger, and fly. But how to get a gun without them noticing? How could she make sure she was gone before they tried to bring her back? A gun wouldn't work, not now.
Blunt impact would work, but that was just too easy to fix. She'd have to make sure the car hit her just right, breaking her neck and stopping her heart. She supposed a train would kill her just as easily, but the next train would be the one she left on. She wouldn't be able to escape that way.
A noose would be the simplest way. She could tie it from the ties on her dress, hook it to the lamp on the ceiling. She could step off the dining table and swing until she soared. That would be her escape. She would be free before they could lock her cage tighter.
Her nimble fingers tied the knot. The satiny fabric wasn't ideal, but it would work. The slippery cloth formed tight knots when she twisted it just right. It only took two tries to make the perfect noose. She smiled as she found more fabric scraps.
Ties from other dresses were connected to the noose and tied to the light on the ceiling. Her knots were strong, impossible to undo quickly. The smile that graced her features wasn't sweet; it was sadistic. She was going to win this time.
Before the loop was slipped over her neck she grabbed a pair of scissors. With quick, jagged cuts her long locks fell to the floor. She picked then up and threw them high, letting the stands fall like snow. Snow was what locked her up. She didn't like it anymore.
She held her head high as she stepped on the table and tightened her key. She was escaping the cage they built for her, and she would fly. In some part of her mind she remembered a song she used to sing.
Little birds come out to play
She was like a bird, ready to fly away from this horrible place we call life. Her wings were clipped but she could still fly. Soon enough she'd be out and free. Away from all the pain and lies and hate that decorated today.
What they sing I cannot say
She started to sing, high, clear notes spilling from her mouth. It wasn't her song, it was just little sounds. The notes reminded her of the birds in her playground, the others she was playing with. They didn't like winning, they thought they were losing. How silly.
We'll lock them up just for today.
Maybe she'd see them once she was a winner too. Maybe she could play with them again. They could all be winners, and they could pity the other losers. Maybe they'd make all the losers winners too, in time.
They'll fly again in some way
She was done stalling. Toes curled, arms limp, she walked to the edge of the table and stopped singing. Her new short hair was tucked behind her ears, the diamond earrings tossed to the floor. Smiling, she picked up her song again and flew.
But this little bird wouldn't stay. So she flew, flew away.
She wasn't the first loser to find out how to win, nor was she the last. She was finally free, when the last breath left her body. She got to play with all the other winners, content to fly in her piece of happiness. She wasn't locked up, she found herself a key.
She was, however, remembered as the first loser to win with a smile.
My mind scares me sometimes. Let's just leave it at that.