It took me a little while to plan this chapter out and then write it but I managed and here it is.
Thanks goes to everyone who did the little survey on the end of last chapter. I tried really hard to make this story better and this is what I ended with.
I've had a hard couple of weeks with a lot of stuff I don't want to mention on this because it's family matters. But on the bright side. My uncle lost his dog and ten days later he found it! It was a miracle!
Another miracle was that Hannah and my mousetrap car worked thanks to Ellyn. We were both doing terrible in science but Ellyn saved our butts. So that means I'm not grounded from the computer! Woo!
So here we go!
At first I didn't react. I froze, petrified. I hated fire. I never mentioned this but it was the most terrifying thing in the world to me. It's just... horrible. There are no words strong enough to describe it.
Before Lissany was murdered, we had been inside the blacksmith's shop her father owned. We had been about four years of age, I think. It was our last month of freedom before we would be forced to work for the District, starting with running errands for the Peacekeepers.
It was a cold winter evening and snow was blowing hard against the small windows of the shop. Normally when it snows in District 11, it would be light flurries. Yet that night was a blizzard.
Lissany's father, Mr. Belle, was finishing a few projects before closing the shop for the night. We were sitting with our corn husk dolls as close as we could get to the fire without being in Mr. Belle's way.
It had been a simple mistake, one that could have been easily avoided. Lissany set her doll too close to the raging fire.
A spark flew out and landed on her dried doll.
It ignited far too easily.
Fire is a hungry creature and won't stop devouring everything in its path until there is nothing but charred remains and ashes left.
We learned this the hard way.
Flames began to consume the entire building and soon, they were all I could see. Mr. Belle grabbed Lissany and pushed her towards the door, screaming at her to run. She looked back at me once before fleeing out the door.
Mr. Belle then turned to me. I could barely catch a glimpse of him through the inferno that was surrounding me.
He wanted to help me, I knew he did, but I was trapped behind a wall of flames.
I could do nothing but crawl into a ball and cry as hard as I could. I clutched my doll like it was a lifeline when it really wasn't. It could do nothing but make me more vulnerable to fire.
I remember I felt so... scared. So alone. It just hurt so bad I couldn't stand it. Smoke filled my lungs and I was having trouble breathing.
"Mommy!" I had wailed. "I want my mommy!" It's one of the worst feelings in the world, especially for someone so little. You could cry for your mother to come but she would never come. She could not hear you. She could not hear me...
I wanted nothing more than to see her face. I wanted nothing more than to be safe at home in my mother's arms.
It just hurt so badly. It hurts so badly.
The fire crept closer, ever so slowly, but at the same time too quickly. I was so frightened. I didn't want the fire by me! I wanted to get away! I didn't want this! I wanted this to stop!
...
...
The last thing I remembered was a tall dark figure coming at me and I wondered if it was Death.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o
It wasn't Death, though. It was Mr. Belle leaping through the fire once he had found a towel to wrap me in. It was to serve as protection from the flames.
I was unconscious for this part so all my information is second-hand knowledge. Apparently, Mr. Belle lifted me and carried me back through the fire, risking his own safety.
I wasn't completely protected though. The towel had caught ablaze as he ran through. Once he managed to get us outside, he placed me on the ground and started shoveling snow on top of me to put it out.
That was when I came to. The icy particles clung to my hair and cheeks, startling me awake. I coughed and spat out ash that got into my lungs before proceeding to throw up again and again. I kept this up until all the junk was out of me, until there was nothing but bile remaining. My throat hurt incredibly so and was raw for the next week or more.
I cried so hard afterwards and when my mother was notified of what happened, she rushed to me and held me for what felt like hours.
And it felt so nice.
To this day, I have a massive scar covering my back where fire caught hold of the towel. Sometimes I swore I could still feel the pain of the incident but my father told me I was imagining it and it was only post-traumatic stress and something called dissociation.
I later found out this meant emotional numbing to deaden the pain of the experience. Though I wasn't emotionless, was I?
For years, and on occasions when I was older, I had haunted nightmares filled with images no child should see. I would watch as my entire family was burned alive and I would see the agony on their faces and I could not help them. All I was able to do was sit and watch my family being ripped away from me.
I cried when I woke up, every time. I cried at the memory of it. I still cry whenever I remember it...
It's a terrible feeling that makes you wish everything was different. But it's not. Wish all you want, it will not change a damn thing. That's life; simple and easy in three words: cruel and unfair.
I hope this explains my phobia. I figured, since you've been listening to my story this long, you would care and may even have sympathy towards me.
At this point I still hadn't budged an inch. The inferno was coming, creeping closer and closer.
Finally, I responded when the fire was so close, it ignited the sleeve covering my forearm. I recoiled from the fire, dancing around, flailing my arms, trying to extinguish my jacket. It did go out.
Then I took off running through the forest, attempting to avoid catching my feet on any undergrowth or stones.
Everything in the forest seemed to be set up as though it was an obstacle course. It created the impression that it all wanted me to trip and be at the mercy of the conflagration.
When I peeked over my shoulder and could still see the bane of my existence, I ran even harder, my breathing loud and rushed sounding in my ear.
Soon, I was far enough away to have time to scamper up a tree. My boots slid on the trunk, trying to grip the bark. I tried again with the same results.
I began to panic. Why couldn't I climb? What was wrong?
I figured I was too anxious to focus. I took a deep breath. Then I could climb.
I pulled myself to the top of the tree and looked across the dense forest. I easily spotted the bright colours of the fire approaching slowly.
I was memorized by the deadly beauty of it. And up here with the cool breeze, it was relaxing. I didn't want to leave the treetop. I wanted to stay here and let the flames reach me...
What was I thinking? Was this a mind trick by the Capitol? Did they know what I feared? Or was it a sheer coincidence?
I didn't know but what I did know was that I had to keep moving. I wished I had moved because then I heard a whistling noise that sounded as if something was-
A massive fireball slammed into the tree next to me and I wasted no time. I scurried down the trunk immediately.
More of the flying fire came at me but they missed by a long shot. I heard someone retching not far away before the hissing noises recommenced. There must have been someone nearby. This only made me run harder to get away from the threats of fire and a tribute.
Before I knew it the fire stops. Just like that. I stopped running and hunched over, bracing my hands on my knees in an attempt to catch my breath. It was still hard to breathe with the thick smoke and this made seeking refuge in the trees a preposterous idea. It was absolutely out of the question.
It was around this point that I finally I registered the agony coming from where the fire had scorched my jacket. I pulled back the charred sleeve to examine the damage.
The flames had seared a large portion of my forearm. I touched it gingerly, hissing at the pain. Reluctantly, since I wanted to conserve water, I poured the liquid from my water skin onto the burned flesh. It soothed the raw skin until the water stopped trickling on it.
I sighed. There was nothing I could do. Nothing at all. It was now when the grimness of the games set in. It was like a black hole all around you. Nothing good came from it. In fact anything light and happy is sucked in to it and all that is exchanged for them is darkness.
I lied on my stomach to get away from the smoke and to rest for a bit. The grass had a familiar smell to it and it carried my mind back to my district where everything was normal and how it should be.
For a second I missed District 11. I missed it so much my chest ached but that could have been from all the ash and smoke I inhaled.
To ignore the feeling of longing, I forced myself to my feet and started walking in the direction of what I hoped to be the lake. I was planning on a little spying of the Careers.
I was going the right way and soon enough, I spotted the lake. I was far away from where the fire had been so climbing a tree was safe now. I did so but it made me nervous when I could still see the tendrils of smoke reaching towards the sky. I shuddered and focused my attention on the Careers' base camp.
They had all their food and supplies in one area in the open and it was poorly guarded. I squinted to make sure I was seeing this correctly.
I was. Their arrogance of their protecting abilities was rather shocking. I knew they thought highly of themselves but this was an outrageous risk.
A forked branch to my right suddenly distracted me. It would be perfect for a slingshot if I had all the right materials. Balancing my weight, I reached out and snapped the Y-shaped branch from the tree. I smiled for the first time in what felt like ages.
For the pouch, I could use of piece of my jacket. I would also need something to launch with. I would have to keep my eyes peeled.
I was too attentive to the Careers' base camp and my chances for a slingshot that I had forgotten to be wary of tributes.
I hardly noticed when she snuck up behind me in the tree. The silky voice made me shuddered as I slowly turned to face her.
"Hello, little girl."
Thanks for reading. Reviews are appreciated. And I bid you adieu! (I'm brushing up on my little to no French for next year.)
