A/N: DOUBLE UPDATE! This chapter is kind of… weird. I contemplated leaving it out completely, as it was more of an exercise than anything, but I thought you might enjoy. It's the second chapter inspired by a song (the first one was Chapter 24). I also finished reading some James Joyce stuff recently and have been dying to try out stream-of-consciousness. So here we are: the literally uninterrupted thoughts of the tributes as they lie awake at night. Even if this sucks, it's sure to be something unique and interesting for me as a writer.

P.S. This made me realize I'm a hoe for songs that sound like the ocean. Please HMU if you have any recommendations 3

though I wish he were here instead

dont want that living in your head

he just comes to visit me

when im dreaming every now and then

and after all that weve been through

theres so much to look forward to

what was done and what was said

leave it all here in this bed with you

turner

Ten oclock ten fifteen ten thirty ten forty five eleven oclock i cant sleep the thoughts keep me awake, the thoughts come and go like ocean waves, like so many raindrops that run off into the grass and disappear forever, they slip past, they fall they tumble they run and they slide, I guess I think about home more than anything, but home is a lot of things to me, its the smell of books its getting coal dust stuck under your nails its summer rain its grey snow and its the peacekeepers, the keepers who only keep violence, who only hurt and never heal,

home is all that and home is beatrice, she was really so lovely, fresh like a raindrop soft like a petal, sweet like candy and she always smelled like books every moment with her was so lovely wasnt it curling up under the tall shelves with the bell ringing floors creaking raindrops sliding down the window, carving little paths into the dust as they ran down, sometimes swallowing one another growing greedily larger and larger sometimes getting smaller and smaller until they just disappeared and evaporated, when it was too dark to read you pick a drop you watch it go down watch it time it race with someone else,

home was all that but this is so much more, hot baths warm beds hot meals, this is hot home was cold but everything here feels empty, empty because theyre fake when they tell you good morning because there are no books because you cant help your mind from wandering when they give you time to relax they never give you time to relax, even before being chosen nothing was relaxing, getting your blood drawn standing in crowded pens waiting in long lines staying quiet through the boring speeches and then they draw your name and everything kind of blurs together silence whispers of thanks dust and stone walls a nice purple couch a window with iron bars saying goodbye, goodbye is the worst and the room was much too friendly for something so awful it was a lovely room really but I only remember the purple couch I remember a few other things I guess the window bailey is that only in district twelve or the other districts too, districts one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven were they all just as scared weve all got the same chance but its hard to ignore the past when you see masonry and luxury and fishing make more victors than grain livestock mining,

mining is the scariest, twelve mining mine its my district, we make coal, we made misty haymitch arnold with years and years between, years and years when tributes died when families were split apart, those poor kids screamed and screamed they screamed as they were reaped they screamed on the chariots they screamed on the trains they screamed in the training center they screamed in their interview they screamed and screamed and screamed as their plate rose they screamed as they were pulled away drained siphoned away like pulling a loose thread I wont be one of them I wont go down screaming its better to go down fighting than to go down screaming, eleven fifteen

i wonder if heather is asleep shes gotta be im the only one worrying this is just me im alone but im not alone were all scared, we can pretend were not we can be confident charismatic charming but were all just scared because were all about to die and theres nothing we can do, I bet even the careers are scared even though they jaunt rather than suggest confident rather than timid killing rather than hiding because you can totally win this thing if you just wait for everyone else to leave in the natural course of things, nature is funny isnt it, youre born you live you cry and you laugh you make enemies you hate you fall in love and you multiply you get old time twists your face and makes you sag then you cant walk and then you leave youre done preparing theres nothing to prepare for we spend all our lives preparing you learn to read to prepare for school you go to school to prepare for work you work to prepare for the lives of your children they work to prepare for the lives of their own, just preparing and preparing until theres no more preparing to do until theres nothing to do but lie back say youre done say im tired say im maybe just a little ever so slightly bored and then you leave, you leave on the wings of the wind you leave on the ocean waves and who knows where youre off to,

you might go off on a little boat with the sun setting the waters calming as the moon rises dazzling silver the stars like gold, but what if it isnt calm what if the waters are roaring what if you werent ready what if the sun was at its peak and you werent tired and you said no I dont want to go im not ready but you cant do anything because thats just how it is youre born you live you love you leave anyway, no matter how bad you want to live if you were a saint or a murderer no matter how badly you want to live no matter how good or bad you are, so does it even matter whats the point of enjoying the ride I mean may as well enjoy it while it lasts but it signifies nothing in the long run, the planets will continue to rotate they dont care about you the sun will rise and set it doesn't care about you objects in motion will remain in motion eff equals em ay every action equal opposite reaction, but the fact you were part of something goes beyond everything else, you existed you put a little piece into the big jigsaw puzzle of the universe you were part of something good and right and real and nothing can erase that,

james

lets see theres been a few hasnt there, well how old was i probably five it was kindergarten the red crayons ran out i headed over to the table with the big bin of colors picked a few i liked I couldnt stop looking at the one sitting there I liked his eyes thats all I remember they were green like a leaf not the ones on the ground like a leaf when its spring you just lie back and breathe in and cant believe how good it all is and nothing matters because the leaves are so lovely, that kind of leaves I said hi whats your name sat down next to him I dont remember him very much next thing I know im ten mom and dad are fighting over some tax they cant pay maybe something they cant afford they wonder which musts they can cut out and which musts are really musts,

and we turn to the church theyre nice to us they give us a warm place to sleep all we have to do is clean be quiet learn a few lines, lines in some weird version of our language the words are the same but theyre twisted like a funhouse mirror I dont know what they mean some of them are pretty some are terrible but they resound with me, and now ive been seeing him around, a new him, he has black hair and big brown eyes with big glasses and thats what I think it all is, I think its 'you look nice and I want to be around you' I talk to him but this time I feel kinda nervous heart fast something feels weird in my stomach,

im on a playdate with her and we kiss and they take a photograph a cherished memory, im on a playdate with him and we kiss and oh no none of that not with us you know I cant believe thats my son come on were going home, the only books im allowed to read are the ones from the church but a friend lends me some and I read one and two girls live together and I go to mom she says give me that what are you reading they have a disease that makes them like wrong, the way they like the way they love is wrong, its all wrong were right and thats all okay because being right is what keeps us all alive its what keeps our stomachs full what keeps us warm at night just do what they tell us to do,

im twelve now and theres another he, I dont understand the way I feel, the other boys talk about she her she her but I can only see he him he him, I cant believe how pretty his voice is one day he hugs me and I just freeze I know this isnt some kid thing im gonna grow out of, we keep things up and now he is the leaves, hes what makes me lie back hes the breeze that cools me down hes my rain on the roof hes my sun setting below the horizon my warm load of laundry hes the peace and quiet hes the noise of the waves the flip side of the pillow the good grade the warm bed, hes everything I could never explain the heart racing the fast breath the dry throat big pupils smile shaking blinking bright eyes and hot face,

then we just get further apart until hes not there when i reach I dont know why he leaves family issues maybe maybe a million other things but the last time were together were just eating bread outside leaves sun wind grass bugs birds and it comes like a letter in the mail I like him, I like him like those hes like their shes but were both hes and he likes me too but thats wrong a he doesnt like a he a he likes a she, I talk to a few friends hear the same thing from them all, man woman garden snake apple,

monita

none of them know him the way I do one day yesterday the day before maybe he was writing a letter old yellowed paper the paper in our bedrooms that never gets replaced because tributes never use it the things we write cant be sent to our families its just to keep our minds in order keep us sane maybe because yeah were all insane,

bernies been quiet hes always been quiet quiet on the train quiet in the training center hes done a lot of hiding too he might be depressed, miss violet taught us about depression in seventh grade her classroom was nice with a big window pot of flowers tiled floor tables always kept clean, school then was always about work there might have been a little reading and math but we learned about technology mostly about different technological advancements a history probably more twisted than we could ever know, but miss violet was different she cared about all of us she asked us in the morning if wed eaten if wed washed,

they give away their possessions their passwords theyre always tired they dont try they seem sick they dont sleep they wont eat, she taught us everything she wasnt supposed to one day she was just gone, gone like sand through your fingers the school was so much sadder without her, we all had our own ways of explaining her absence to the younger students but anyone over age nine knew what had really happened

they can take you away whenever they want but its always in the night, you wake up and theyre standing above you flashlights youre under arrest stand up and youre gone, gone just like that, it must happen more often in the other districts because it almost never happened to people i knew, it happened to miss violet i know it did it was like she just disappeared everything in her classroom was untouched the blackboards filled the pitcher of water left to slowly evaporate posters sitting on the wall notebooks on the floor alphabet chart AaBbCcDdEeFfGgHhIiJjKkLlMmNnOoPpQqRrSsTtUuVvWwXxYyZz cabinet

i wonder if people miss me the same way like i just disappeared like they blinked and im gone they see me on the television on the train screeeech chariots cheer training center thwack interview bravo, i will fight as hard as i can to pick my way out of this mess ill make it home ill see them all again.