In the dark, for a while now. I can't stay, so far. I can't stay, much longer. Riding my decision home.
District Five
Sally Reynolds
The moment I wake up, I've already remembered. The rustling of soft fabrics against my calves assures me it's morning, and I wiggle my toes from underneath the blankets. Impending doom is the only thing on my mind, due to the fact that it's the only thing in store for me. Today, tomorrow, and the next day will all be inexplicably awful.
The blankets drape just an inch over each four corners of my bed. Exactly, precisely, perfectly. This is the way I live; this is how I stay alive.
I hold my breath, puffing my cheeks out like a fish, while I look around the room scanning for miscalculations. When I was younger, I would hold my breath as long as I could every day, attempting to beat the timed score I'd mastered the day before. I wondered if I could kill myself by doing that, and even tried once in the bathtub. I told my mom no, I didn't want to die, I just wanted to see if it would work.
It's both a gift and a curse, to have such a keen eye. When I look in the mirror, I cannot see past my blemishes. The scattered birthmarks on my left cheek. The unnatural sharpness of my chin on one side but not the other. I can fit my hands around one of my thighs, but not the other.
Looking at my reflection, my stomach starts doing somersaults. Perfection is something obtainable. I've proved that with my organizing and calculating, haven't I? Running my fingers over the smooth texture of my forehead, I swallow bile rising in my throat. Right when I feel like I'm about to pass out, the door slides open.
"Uh, Sally?" Tobias peeks his meek little face into my room, cheeks ablaze with something innocent. "S-sorry for barging in like this, but you weren't answering, and we have to leave soon, and I - "
"Thank you. It's fine." my voice is like winter. It isn't the raging blizzard or the howling wind, but instead the helpless dirt trapped beneath blankets of snow. My ears hurt when people talk so loudly they're shouting, and I loathe when someone's voice raises just in the middle of their sentence. So, I have chosen to always be quiet. Always be small.
Tobias nods once, quickly shutting the door afterwards. I can hear his little feet pattering against the ground, though I've experience firsthand that he isn't unnecessarily fast.
Pulling my nightgown up and over my head, I sneak one last glance of myself in my mirror. Closing my eyes, I trek over to the reflector, and drape my azure nightgown over the rude thing. It's practically impossible for me to dress while looking at myself. My focus slides in and out of my flaws, weaseling through each and every one of them like a snake, and on a important schedule like today, I can't work with that.
If I glance, even momentarily, at a clock and the hour hand isn't landed squarely on a number, I become uncomfortable. Anxious and twitchy.
So I hardly ever look at clocks. The morning light traveling in through my window is enough, and I don't want to ruin such an important date.
While sliding on my Training uniform, I instinctively glance at the mirror. My shoulders relax when I catch sight of the nightgown blocking my reflection, but I'm already well-aware of the ill-fitting clothing. The pants are too long for my stubby legs; I cuff them at the ankle everyday. The shirt crumples around my chest due to my inability to grow. Even the shoes are too big for me. My mentor informed me that the Capitol only creates shoes in sizes four and above, so I'm never going to find a perfect fit. It isn't too hard to believe, since everyone here seems so unnaturally large.
Walking out into the hallway, I feel bare. I can see my birthmarks, the extra inches between the heel of my feet and the heel of my shoes, the lopsided ponytail leaning more towards the right side of my head, all inside my own mind.
I am imperfect; flawed. But as long as I don't look at myself, I might be alright.
District Eleven
Mouse Goven
If I'm being truthful, I really don't like elevators all that much.
Yeah, sure, they take me places I have to go (or where I'm being forced to go, in this case) but there are too many head-splitting things about being inside an elevator to make it any fun. It really drives me nuts, to be honest.
The pairs from Two and Eight are in here with Ivy and me. First off, in elevators, everyone has to distance themselves from each other since we're all strangers. We stay close to whoever we're comfortable with. Ivy is so close to me I can smell her breath, and keeps fidgeting. The way her arm bounces makes our hands touch. I would hold her hand since she's so scared, but I don't want those dummies from the other districts to think I like her or anything, so I just ignore her frigid taps.
Anyways, the boy from Two is hollering really loud, balling his fists and jabbing at his district partner's sternum in between spitfire remarks. She's rolling her big eyes really theatrically, holding her ground while he yells. He kind of towers over her, and she isn't even very little, he's just a big guy. I don't like this thing about elevators either, when some weirdo comes into the little room and you all have to wait until they leave. The eighth time he raises his pointer finger, she holds up her hand – rather small in contrast to his – and lolls her head to one side.
"Stop touching me," she instructs, narrowing one eye. She keeps the other one open. "You're not even mad at me, so stop yelling. Now, calmly speak with me about your issues with Corduroy."
The pair from Eight are having an idle conversation. Ivy told me Eight's female tribute is rather talkative, and I can clearly see this highlighted in their discussion. I can't hear them, of course, since Two is being so loud even when he isn't yelling, but all I can see is her thin lips opening and closing. Rinse and repeat.
"C'mon, Ives," I reach for my district partner's hand right as the door dings open. Initially, I'm surprised by the cold texture of her skin, but then again, I never really expected Ivy to be a warm person.
I lead her over to Brynley chatting with her district partner, stocked in the corner of the Training room. Bryn is smiling, as per usual, and though I can't seem to place Tobias in the crowded room, I trudge over to her anyway.
"Hey, Ivy, Mouse, this is my friend, Cecis," Brynley's words come out like poetry, she's so smooth. She pushes her mousy hair back with the palm of her hand, her smile still standing tall. Brynley's really a fun girl and the same age as Ivy, but to be frank, she seems so old. Ivy is like my little puppy who stands just a bit taller for some annoying reason, but it's like Brynley's eons older than both of us. Kind of like she's my grandma or something, but a lot smaller and funnier.
Since Ivy hardly talks, she just waves her hand (which I've let go of at this point, mind you) and I murmur a hello. Brynley and Cecis continue their conversation for a few more minutes before I remind her Training scores are today, and from what I can tell, Tobias is already hard at work in the plant station.
"Sorry, Cecis, but good luck today," she ruffles his hair one last time, and as his chocolate eyes twinkle, he readjusts the mop atop his head.
As the boy turns his back to us, I prepare to ask Ivy what station she wants to take a crack at first, when I notice a peculiar look on her face. "Hey... what's wrong?"
Ivy doesn't meet my concerned gaze. Her blank brown eyes are still focused in on Brynley's district partner's spine. She narrows her eyes, but doesn't say a word. I wait for her, despite my ticking patience, until she opens her mouth. You've got to be careful with Ivy. She's great and all, but super sensitive.
"It's nothing."
District One
Annie Faith
"Excited, Annie?"
My hand instinctively raises, gently pressing my bangs away from my eyes. "Not particularly."
Corduroy is a buffoon, plain and simple. He's brash, sensitive, and much too over-confident for a boy as poorly skilled as he is. He makes vile remarks about even viler tributes in an attempt to get a rise out of me, but I hardly ever reply.
To put it promptly, he's annoying.
I lean my broad shoulders against the wall, crossing my arms across my chest. As I have absolutely nothing to worry about for the Training sessions, I've been lounging around the large room for the past hour or so. I'm currently watching Lilianna at the knife station, Trawl awkwardly latched to her hip. You would think he had a crush on the little thing, with how attached he is. She's funny; amusing even, but I can't help but release a little snort as she hops onto a stiff dummy. Lilianna tends to straddle it, and slash at it with whatever weapon she's working with at the moment. It would be a brilliant strategy if she wasn't the size of a pixie.
Trawl, uncomfortably sizing her up from his peculiar stance, is a nuisance. Strange and impulsive; it would be best to rid of him during the first few days, if possible.
"Four is annoying," Corduroy murmurs, his eyes focused on the same place mine are. "Lilianna's cute, but she's too small to do any harm. I don't like Carver much either."
A smirk rises upon my lips. Ah, the famous Carver-Corduroy rivalry. I have to admit, it's utterly pointless, but their resentment for one another provides at least some entertainment for me. As the leader of this alliance, it is my job to ensure victory for at least one of us. Therefore, I feel it would be in my best interest to chat up at least one of my allies and steer them towards the right path for our private sessions. How especially generous I'm feeling today.
"Corduroy."
"Yeah?"
"What are you thinking about doing for your private session?" it takes every sugar molecule in my body to avoid sounding bitter, but my voice still comes out deadpan. Whatever.
"Um," Corduroy furrows his eyebrows, scraping a long finger against his jaw. "Hand-to-hand combat, I'm thinking."
Corduroy is smaller than me, and has an average build, but his strength is pretty impressive. I do presume he should try showing the Gamemakers some of his agility as well, though – the boy can run a mile in four minutes. "What about your speed?"
"I'm not that fast, Annie - "
"Bullshit. You better go on the track simulator, too." the authority in my voice is enough to make any man crumble, especially one as brittle as Corduroy. I watch his face melt, piece by piece, until he's slowly nodding his head in agreement to my commanding words.
"Tributes, private sessions begin in ten minutes. Please meet and arrange yourselves accordingly. We will start with the District One male and end with the District Twelve Female."
This will almost be too easy.
District Twelve
Rayvon Chase
There is a hell. There's a world, hardly beneath the one we live in now, filled with eager flames and an inhumane dose of hatred. Loathsome, empty souls wander the burning floors, having grown so familiar with the pain they can walk without shoes on. I have visited many times before.
"Annie Faith," an especially tall guard states the name like he's giving an award. The girl from One gives a sarcastic smirk to the man, and he tilts his cap down in response. As her district partner exits the room, she stomps right into it.
I glance over at Kesha, seeing her relatively nervous, and with good cause. She's tall for a female, but small compared to the boy from Two or, for example, me. Kesha's kind, but naive. Caring, but unfortunate. A girl like her would be better off living in poverty in Twelve than competing in a match she has absolutely no chance of winning...
It isn't just my district partner, either. Her entire alliance; composed of Seven and Five, is hopeless. Not to suggest I'm the number one candidate for a Victor, but I've at least got a few things. My strength, my speed, my independence. Venturing off as a loner would be unthinkable for most people, but my clarity is what comforts me. No friends means nothing to lose.
Trust me, entering this death march is bad enough; I don't need a pound of guilt hanging off every limb attached to my body when I leave.
If I leave.
"Carver Molan." the large boy from Two stands, bidding farewell to his district partner with a wink and a wave (to which she raises an eyebrow) before entering his session.
What seems like only minutes later, Two marches back out, a confident smile etched onto his face.
"Veeka Golding." The District Two girl stands, smirking at the boy as she glides through the door. She's beautiful – clearly, since she comes from a Career district – but in a very mature sense. If she wins, she could become a supermodel in the Capitol.
If I were from one of the better districts, I'd likely make a terrific Career. I'm big, tough, incredibly charming. Last night, I spent my last few waking hours wondering how I'd be fairing if I'd been born in a different district, to different parents. I could be a sparkling blonde from One, or a sophisticated genius from Three. Maybe I wouldn't feel so damn lonely all the time.
"Klaus Philips."
I don't know who any of these people are. That's a little sad, I believe. It almost makes me feel somewhat sick; if I kill someone, I want to know what their name is. If someone slices my stomach open, I'd like to know what to refer to them as. The only people I'm quite familiar with are Elimaris and Kesha. Elimaris is fine, we don't bother each other too much, and we manage to hold a neutral conversation while we eat. It's a shame we've only met in the Hunger Games, since I'd quite like talking to a girl like her back home. I'm in dire need of friends, after all.
"Roryss Belcort." A thin blonde girl rises from her spot, strolling into the Gamemaker's quarters with her head held high. I envy people from Three, to a certain extent. It must be nice, to be promised intellect the moment you exit the womb. Obviously, she's rather infatuated with her own intelligence - I remember the haughty grin on her face during the Chariots - but she's entitled. The boy, too.
It's fun to joke about, but almost sad coming from a run-down place such as Twelve. Eight has their fashion, One has their diamonds, Four has their swimming. I have...
"Trawl Incritus."
Nothing.
District Seven
Brynley Heilge
"Brynley Heilge."
Brynley Heilge? Oh, that Brynley Heilge.
"Brynley Heilge?"
The boy from Eight nudges me in the stomach, flashing me a friendly smile. "Hey, I think they're calling you." Oh.
Brynley Heilge is me. I am Brynley Heilge.
I stand suddenly, spurting out like a flower, and gulp while taking a step towards the door. How could I forget my own name? My name makes up my identity, my persona! The one I've worked so hard to build.
The minute I close the door, I feel as though I'm a little rabbit. Trapped in a cage with a pack of wolves; the Gamemakers are somewhat rowdy, chuckling under their breaths but keeping their eyes trained on me. I place my hands behind my back, awkwardly rolling my shoulders back, and stand, trembling, in the middle of the room. My name is Brynley Heilge. The words sound dumb due to my incapability to affiliate my name with my own being just a few minutes ago. I reckon the Gamemakers know who I am, anyways.
So, I make my way over to the traps station, where I seem to flourish. Tobias is better, but I've got a steady hand. There's no use comparing myself to him when I'm capable as well.
Sinking into a criss-crossed position, I snake one last glance at the Gamemakers. Boredom is evident in their eyes. My gaze returns to the trap supplies, and then my hands begin moving. Practically on their own, since these past days have been solely dedicated to Tobias aiding me in traps. I'll have to remember to thank him tomorrow.
He nourished a talent that belongs to me. We are equally responsible for my improvement.
I finish my trap in minutes. Honestly, I'm crossing my fingers that the arena is outside, with trees and all - my traps would really come in handy then.
"Thank you, Brynley. You may leave." I'm excused rather politely for such brutal beings, but I force a smile upon my lips nonetheless. Giving a quick bow, I waltz out of the room, my confidence rather high after my successful session. "Hey, good luck," I nod at Mouse and Ivy as I pass them, receiving little waves in response, hurrying on my way to the elevator. They'll do fine, probably - Mouse is quick and Ivy can climb like a tree squirrel. Tobias, no doubt, did amazing. He probably stunned the Gamemakers with his intelligence. His interview will be fun to watch tomorrow night for sure.
Pressing the up button on the elevator, I cross my arms behind my back and wait. Fixing my gaze on the floor, losing myself in my surroundings, the Games seem awfully close. If the Hunger Games could breathe, I could feel the air creeping down my spine this minute.
However, being the optimist as I am, I refuse to admit defeat.
District Nine
Elimaris Baker
I'm not nervous. My stomach isn't churning and my throat is relaxed. I'm incredibly self-assured and positive my abilities are acceptable.
Stop lying.
I did what I could. I tore down every dummy in sight, shot as many arrows as I could aim, and threw knives until my wrist hurt. I became an animal, but I didn't necessarily lose myself - it's been a part of me for some time now.
The boy from One's face appears on the screen, with a glowing 9 underneath his smiling face. Damien howls with disapproval, embarking on a rant about the Capitol's favoritism. One's female, Annie, receives a 10. Looking at her cold, placid face on the flat screen, I feel a bit more uneasy. She's one to keep an eye on, for sure.
The District Two tributes are just slightly better than One's. The girl manages a 10, and an 11 for the boy.
District Three is an odd pair, really. I remember hearing them arguing on the Chariots, and though it was rather amusing, I didn't laugh. The boy, Klaus, gets a 4 - the lowest score so far. The girl's face disappears from the screen with a 6 shimmering underneath her pale figure.
Trawl's face is tired and long. He receives a 6, but it's already remotely clear that he's the weakest link of his alliance. Little Lilianna's score is surprisingly high - an 8 for the petite Career.
The young boy from Five's warm eyes replace Lilianna's hardened ones. A 6 appears underneath his timid picture, shortly being replaced by a 5 for his partner.
Six's boy - I can't recall his name, though his face is extremely familiar - has a glittery 5 below his thin face. The strange girl soon adapts to the screen, a whimsical half-smile upon her rosy lips. She receives a 3, which makes me narrow my eyes a little bit. The girl is little, sure, but a 3? I believe this pair is allied with Three's male, too, which makes for a grand total of 12 out of 36 points. Stunning.
Cecis is the small boy from Seven, and a 3 appears underneath his meek photo. For his partner, a 5.
The caramel-colored face of Eight's male pops up, a lazy closed-mouth smile above his 6. The girl's face has a pleasant grin stretching from ear to ear. Her score matches her partner's perfectly; a shimmering 6.
My jaw stiffens when Damien's face transitions onto the large screen, eyes drifting to the 6 below his picture. He lets out a shallow breath from his spot beside me, a slow smirk etching up onto his face. Pride. A six isn't bad, after all.
Time passes in years as my somber photo overlaps my district partner's. My breath stays inside my throat, locked in tight due to my nerves. I bite my lip, pressing into it as I eye the 7, silver and sparkling, tucked gently underneath my face. A 7 to represent who I am, what I stand for. A 7 to define me until I die.
District Ten
Draven Thayer
Leslie's cold, dark face disappears from the screen as mine adapts into it. I release a sigh as my 10 replaces her 7, earning no vocal response from anybody in the room.I glance over at my district partner, wondering if she's upset I scored higher than her, but then again, this is Leslie - she displays absolutely no emotion any time of the day. Furmant, my mentor, gives me a proud eye, his kind face adopting a smile as he looks at me.
"Good work, you too. Gave those Careers a run for their money." Furmant is trying to sound humorous, attempting to sink lightness into his words, but the bragging quality of his words is prominent. Leslie doesn't reply, since he isn't even her mentor, instead inspecting her sharp nails in the dimmed light. Her eyelids never rise.
Mouse from Eleven flashes a 4, and Ivy's score is identical. A grin tugs at the side of my lips - since I adore children. Well and truly, they're the epitome of happiness.
And though I'd love nothing more than protecting two innocent kiddies, I have my own child to care for. (Concern for. Ache for.) And though I like all children, my selfishness provides me with unwavering fondness for mine especially.
Twelve's bitter enigma shows up on screen releasing me from my thoughts. A 6 isunderneath his name. His partner receives a 5, and as her blonde, fairy-esque features take their departure, our television shuts off as well. Leslie leaves without a word, hopping off the couch and travelling down the hallway silently. She doesn't even wave goodbye to Hadley. I hear her door close, calmly and precisely, as Hadley breaks out into a bitter laughter.
"Jesus Christ, what an absolute bitch!" Hadley howls, slamming the liquor cabinet shut as she downs a shot of vodka. "I loathe that girl. Hate her!"
"She's just a kid, you know," I hear my low voice speaking before the words truly processes. Blinking, then eventually narrowing my eyes, I continue. "Besides, you know what happened in her family."
Furmant rolls his eyes, placing a rough hand on my shoulder. "Draven, there's no use talking to her when she's drunk, but you're sweet for trying. Plus, Leslie's only a year younger than you; she doesn't really have an excuse to be acting so haughty." he sighs, interrupting me before I can give my input. "Goodnight, boy. Get yourself some rest."
I let a smile ease itself onto my face, despite my considerably high temper being active. "Yeah, goodnight."
Watching Furmant disappear down the hallway, and eyeing a snoozing Hadley sprawled on the couch, I begin my trek after my mentor's path. My thoughts begin sailing, wandering every which way they desire. I see my daughter, my family. My messy, pristine childhood. Truly, all of it adds up to the man I am today.
I pull my shirt over my head by the collar, throwing the flimsy thing on the floor as I shuffle into my large bed. Exhaustion invades my body, causing my muscles to relax into the smooth texture of the mattress. My mind goes blank when I close my eyes, gently tugging the blanket over my muscular body. I desperately attempt to remember what exactly was so important just a minute ago, but I really can't place it. It's lost now, soaring through nothingness, and I'm not going fishing for it. Unleashing a cough from my chest, I clear my throat as my head turns sideways on the pillow.
I can't wait for tomorrow.
So, um, long time no see.
Yes, I did disappear off the face of the earth. Yes, I did stop writing for the Hunger Games for a while. Yes, this story hasn't been updated in a year and a half.
I was going through my documents, and found this chapter practically finished. After some thought, I decided to continue this story after so much time, since I really have missed Fanfiction and it isn't fair to any of your characters to just leave this story unfinished with no epilogue or closure.
If any of you are still interested in the story, I'd be happy to continue. If that ship's sailed, I'm fine with that as well.
I'm not sure how the update schedule is going to look like, since it only took me about two days to finish up this chapter but there wasn't too much to write. I can say that there will definitely be updates monthly, but I'm hoping to get them out a bit quicker than that. I'm altering the format of the chapters slightly, since the one I was using before is literally atrocious.
I realize it's difficult to regain interest in a story that's been on hiatus as long as this one. PM me any questions or concerns you have.
Also, I can truthfully say my health is in great shape, so there won't be any issues with that this time around.
Hopefully, this update was a pleasant surprise, though my writing's become quite rusty after leaving Fanfiction.
Thanks a ton!
I Can't Stay by The Killers
