Thirty-six – The Affliction
The Flames – Division Three (12.3)
I wake with a start to another seemingly normal day. It feels weird, being with at least one other person for almost a week and then being alone for so long, without any person in sight. How long is this going to take? How long until the gamemakers want the five of us to meet up?
When that time comes, I'm scared of how I will fare. How can I defeat the strong Jade? The axe-wielding Ringo? The furious Dominic? My former ally Ryno... I'm scared that if I meet Ryno, he would want to kill me. But if I meet him, I honestly would not. I want to stay with him until the end. I feel like I need him. I need him to keep me going. I need him, not even for an ally to help the two of us defeat the other three, but as a friend. Even though he is still out there, I miss him as much as I did Radia, maybe even more. But I am not going to look for him yet. I'm not worried about him starving to death. He has had the same supplies as I did, plus Elaine's if he managed to take hers.
I eat the last of my berries, leaving only around one pack of crackers. The only food I have left, and will only have if I do not get gifts from a sponsor. That is all the five of us can rely on soon, I reckon. We must all be separated, hiding out. I am convinced there's no action going on and no meeting of the other tributes. Even Dominic, who appeared to swear revenge on her girlfriend's killer, I believe has realised not to pursue him so immediately.
But to get those sponsor gifts, I will really have to impress at times of greater need. But the longer I go on, the more difficult it is to put on a brave face. This is the toughest part of the Games so far both physically and mentally, and I can only think it is not going to be easier.
I move a bit off my site, the furthest I have since settling down at the wall, to pass some urine. And it's coloured orange. A more brown-orange than a yellow-orange, almost like the gravel back in town. I resist the urge to return to my skin and chug whatever left to rehydrate myself, but I must remember to conserve as much as I can.
When I finish, I notice a yellow-green coloured smoke in the distance, moving slowly towards me. That can't mean anything good. The colour looks sickly poisonous. Inhaling that vapour or gas could be lethal.
Unfortunately, the fog seems inescapable. The fog is high enough, and is everywhere except for the bordering walls and the corner I am in. I'm trapped. I go back to my site and prepare a mask with my jacket, to filter as many particles as I can. If this gas has taken anybody out, I need to be the last one to outlast it.
I wait, then I notice the gas diffuse in from both the left and right of the wall. I can only just make out what's through the wall of smoke. I inhale and hold my breath before the gas reaches me. I close my eyes just in case, too.
I do not feel anything different. The gas doesn't seem to affect the skin, but I'm still worried about what it can do to the eyes, so I keep them closed. And I keep holding my breath. My heart beats faster. If I stop holding my breath, I will inhale this gas and I will probably die. This may be the equivalent to the gamemakers' fire to draw me into the town, but rendering the East Walls uninhabitable instead. I might die. I can't get too complacent that it won't kill me.
I'm starting to get dizzy. My body is in real need of oxygen. I can't keep staying like this any more. It hasn't even been a minute. Okay, this is the moment of truth. Will this gas kill me?
I exhale and open my eyes, relieved. I take air back in through the nose. And the smell takes me aback. It's pungent, but sweet. But I cannot trust its pleasantness. It can only mean the gas will injure me.
It does not. My physical body does not feel anything worse. No, my vision does. There is a person walking through the fog in front of me. It looks like... Ryno? That can't be right. I'm hearing abnormally loud sounds as well. Screaming and shouting. A weird clamping noise like a crocodile shutting its jaw fast. Is this another dream? Has the gas sedated me?
Then another figure takes Ryno down.
I call out his name in panic. "No!" I yell. Was Ryno right there? Is he dead? I don't hear a cannon.
I pull my knife out of my belt and run towards the small figure. It is Ringo. I cannot let him get away with it. But when I run up towards him, I almost collide with another of the stone walls.
"What?" I mutter, so confused. I turn around to see Ringo right in front of me, swinging his axe casually. He stares at me evilly, devising my end.
My body goes stiff.
"No." I plead. "Ringo..."
He doesn't change his face. He grips his axe.
"No!" I shriek. I throw my knife at him, but I somehow miss. It sails beyond him and he walks up to me without missing a beat.
With the wall behind me, there's no means of escape. No, this is really the end. I can't get out of this. Ringo will not let me live. He will kill me. He appears close now, and he swings at my neck faster than I can think about family.
I scream, and I finish screaming. Ringo has disappeared. He was not real. How...?
Then I see a girl's figure in the distance, obscured by the fog. Then I make out that it is Radia. No, she cannot be real. Wait, am I actually dead now? Am I in the afterlife?
She walks closer to me, donning her yellow dress that she wore prior to revealing the red dress at the tribute interviews. She has her usual bright smile that I miss. That I oh, so miss. I have died. I have lost the Games. I have met her now.
"Radia..." I say, walking closer to her.
"Henry!" she shouts gleefully, opening her arms.
"I missed you so much." I say tearfully, as I go to embrace her.
Except I don't. My arms go straight through her and back towards myself. I almost stumble thinking I would fall onto her, but she disappears in a flash as well.
I dart my head around. All I can see is the thick yellow-green fog with some walls in the distance. I can just make out the bordering wall, and I run to it again to see if it's real. It is. It feels solid and does not disappear.
Am I real? I don't feel any physically different. I feel around myself. I touch the wound on my shoulder. I still feel a little pain. I wouldn't feel pain if I'm dead, right?
The apparitions, the sounds... I am hallucinating. I am still very much alive, but I can't trust anything that I see now. And it has to be because of this fog. I was feeling fine before inhaling it.
I frantically try to make my way back to my stuff, but the fog loses me. Even worse, I see Guano falling hard in front of me with a thud, an arrow in his head.
No, none of this is real, but I step over his apparent body anyway. On my left, a struggling Quentin gurgles with the blood flowing out of his neck. On my right, Ryno dangles upside down from the snare trap, flailing around and screaming in panic.
I put my head down and block as much of my peripheral vision as I could. Henry, these are just hallucinations. They are not real, but they look so real. I think I eventually find my wall cutting the fog in the distance, but there are two figures in front of it on the ground, grappling.
"Just go!" I hear Magnus scream. "Run!"
And the wall tips and crumbles on top of them. I turn away in fright, but I have to force myself to go back to my wall, which is still perfectly intact. The rubble and the two tributes have disappeared. I curl up next to the wall, cover my face with my jacket and block my ears.
It is no use. I still have realistic visions in my mind, and the noises do not turn any less distinct. There is no escaping this. I have to endure this torture, as long until the gamemakers allow the hallucinogenic fog to dissipate. I remember how this fog permeated throughout the arena. Nobody is safe from it. Everybody must be hallucinating right now as well, only adding to the suffering of thirst and starvation. This is truly cruel.
I may have thought before, it's only hallucinations, right? Wrong, it is much worse than that. The struggle of believing that all the visions are not real, and the struggle of trying to get your body to relax to all the freakish things we see and hear is hard as tiring as jogging in the heat with low energy storage.
What is in this fog? Tracker jacker venom in its gaseous form? I do know tracker jackers cause hallucinations, probably as severe as I am experiencing it now.
Eventually the visions, like Ringo killing Ryno and I, have distorted into events that I have not seen actually happen. I see Quentin stabbing Steffi with his trident in the bloodbath. Worse, I see Elaine burning alive, her skin charring and peeling, her screams drowned out by the inferno. I see my family back at home viewing what seems like the projector. Then my mother collapses, and a Peacekeeper shoots a bullet through my brother's head, going through my sister who is holding him.
"No!" I hear myself yelling. Wait, no, that can't be true at all! They wouldn't have killed my family while I'm here! Could they? What did I do to have them die? Did they not like my use with the explosives? No, I refuse to believe that is a real occurrence. I have never seen Steffi or Elaine die, so my family should not have either.
I think I'm right, because the hallucinations are worse. The events I picture are far from real now, but they still hurt. I see Pyra staring into my face as it is me who plunges the knife down into her heart. Radia lies with the arrow in her chest, but out from the wound oozes a thick green and purple liquid, and then she dissolves into black ash. Manu, the boy from District 11 who I have not seen since the interviews, is caressed by my stylist without his consent. No, he is even younger than I am!
I turn to see President Snow up on his balcony, watching down on me. His face is fixed on mine, and appears to grow larger in size and closer in distance, until my whole field of vision is his authoritative, arrogant face. Then he laughs at me loud, so suddenly that it makes me jump.
He disappears as his laughs fade into an echo.
Then nothing. Peace. I notice myself relaxing. It is a nice open wheat field like the one I passed on the train on the way to the Capitol. Except I am in the field this time, the crops are still green, and there are no law enforcers in white uniforms around. My mother then walks from the fray, holding Algo, both looking healthy and joyful.
"Mom." I say happily. "Algo."
Denary follows them.
"Den!" I tear up. "I've missed you all so much."
Ergo then walks forward, showing a smile that resembles Radia.
"Thank you." I tell him aloud.
Then Beetee and Jovan joins them. Ryno as well, wearing his stylish interview outfit. My smile only grows and my heart only feels warmer.
Then it is Radia in her yellow dress and my father in the clothes I wore on reaping day. Looking alive, like they've never left this world.
It is the people that are so special to me. Family. Friends that I have made, who have been so supportive. To see them all in one amazing place is more than heart-warming. They are all so happy, and I am too. This is one vision that I do not wish to be a hallucination.
Then something changes. Their faces start to distort to unrecognisable faces. No, it isn't them anymore. They have changed into the faces of Capitol audiences. Only their faces. In their ridiculous makeup and hairstyles. But they are not overjoyed or euphoric as usual. They are dead faced, their eyes the only exception. Wide, like they are staring deep inside of me.
I get the message. They are watching me. The nine figures walk towards me and I try to back away. No no no. Their faces look darker the closer they are. The wheat crops begin to wilt and rot black. The Capitol faces do not remove their gaze. They get too close. Their faces filling up my vision, sucking up my soul.
"No!" I yell, punching my fist into the ground angrily to distract myself.
The figures do disappear, and so does the rotten setting. I am brought back to where I am, against a wall in the East Walls, the thickness of the sweet-smelling fog all around. But no figures appear, and no sounds invade my ears. Has it lost its potency? Is this the end of the hallucinations? I really hope so.
My fist hurts from striking it against the compact dirt ground. I examine it and it doesn't appear to be bleeding, just aching muscles and bones from the impact. I alternate between shaking it away and holding it down.
What did I just see? How could I be thinking of those things? I want it to stop. This is pure torture. I take this temporary relief from the visions to sip water, replenishing what I have wasted by panting and panicking. The fog doesn't seem to be fading, so I have to prepare to relax if I do hallucinate again.
I do. I see the Coalition in the distance, but it is only the five without me. They hunt, disappearing into the fog, appearing, disappearing. I hear their familiar voices.
"There!" yells Dominic, and he takes down another tribute, a female. The girl from District 4? Quentin called her Barb.
Ringo, Ryno, Elaine, and Imogen surround them, and they leave the body. Then next time they appear, Imogen immediately points an arrow at me. I gasp and try to dodge, but the arrow hits somebody right in front of me, and he falls to the ground. Guano.
Dominic and Imogen high-five at the kill. No, they would never do that. The Coalition then spot Virgil alone, corner him, and it is Ringo who kills him. A full axe to the skull. I scream and the Coalition looks at me.
"Henry, what's going on?" asks Imogen.
Dominic then points behind them. A full-blown building.
"They boy from District 5 is in trapped there." he says. "Care to do the honours?"
No. I would never kill Magnus. The building explodes anyway and I yell out. Why is this happening?
The Coalition then finds Mariana, huddling in a shelter alone, looking strange not being in a Career pack. She tries to run but Elaine catches up to her and knocks her down with the awl, proceeding to gouge her eyes with it.
For some reason I am desensitised to the gore. It is purely the act of us killing the tributes that are affecting me.
No, this is guilt. This is real guilt. We are doing exactly what the Careers are doing. The tight hunting group. The cockiness. And I don't want that. I have never wanted that.
Before Ryno slashes Quentin after knocking him to the ground, I bend my head back in frustration, but I hit the stone wall behind me painfully.
I almost lose my balance. I think a concussion is possible. These hallucinations are deadly and can drive somebody inside, like they almost have with me.
I rub my head, and like before, I don't see any more figures. The sound of the Coalition has disappeared. It is like the fog.
I punched my fist. I hit my head. The hallucinations have disappeared because of... pain?
I realise how brutal this is. The gamemakers are telling us: Physical pain, or emotional pain, you choose.
No, I don't feel I can handle any more hallucinations. They could last for a whole day and I am already hurting myself after an hour. I can't learn to alleviate the pain of these visions, but I think I can learn to handle physical pain.
I think I can handle blows well. I take out the hardest item in my pack, the canteen, and prepare to strike myself with it. After about a minute, a figure appears, and I immediately strike my left knee with a canteen.
I howl with pain, but it helps with the hallucinations. I have found the secret. I keep taking blows to different areas of my body whenever the hallucinations begin, which is whenever the pain begins to really subside. That means the harder I strike, the longer I have before I hit myself again. I hope I just do not accidentally kill myself trying to create a long period between hitting myself once more.
I feel that what I'm doing looks silly, and I am going to get bruises galore. But I have to survive, and I feel the hallucinations might lead me to suicide. I endure the pain, trying not to show it, trying to show that I am unaffected by it. I need to gain the admiration of sponsors.
This goes on for hours, and I am struggling to find spots where there are no contusions nearby. One spot specifically hurts, and I feel that may be a hematoma. I realise the only surfaces I have not yet struck is my face, which is too dangerous, my back which I can't reach and I hate having blows to anyway, and the surface I'm sitting on. Oh goodness. I feel way too silly, so silly that I actually laugh striking myself there. No, this is not meant to be funny. This is torture. I hope that gets a good laugh out of the audience, though.
I made the mistake of bruising both buttocks so now sitting becomes a pain. But I then notice that increases the time it takes for the next vision to come in. I don't even have to strike myself anymore. I just agitate my bruises. I know that lying on my back and elevating my legs would help it heal faster, but healing is the complete opposite of what I need to do right now,
I get worried. Bruising one or both spots is one thing, but will it kill me if I have too much around the body? Have I essentially killed myself? Have I internally bled out too much?
I finish my water during this. Saving water is not my priority right now. I cannot believe my priority is to hurt myself.
Fortunately, and finally, the fog dissipates as the sun starts to go down. A full day of hallucinations. The smell disappears, and what appears is the standard, unobscured view of the East Walls again. I have done it. I have passed the test. I have made it through that nightmare that was day fourteen.
The sponsors must have liked me through all of that, because I receive two parachutes of welcome bruise treatment cream, and sleep serum to help with my sleep the last few days.
"Thank you!" I yell to the sky. I repeat. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."
I immediately apply some cream from a squeezy tube to all my bruises. It is a little moist under my clothes, but it undoubtedly helps with the pain. I can comfortably sit or touch any spot on my body. I realise how awful I must look. Band-aids, bandages everywhere, blue spots of skin, and a face which has not seen sleep for days. How much more can I take? The Games are coming to a close.
Still then, everybody survived today, confirmed by the anthem. I am sure they didn't make it without suffering like I did. We are all becoming disadvantaged here, unless somebody is showered with gifts.
I'm grateful for the cream and the serum, but it is water that I need. It is alarming that I have ran out. I might face days without water before I die.
I call out. "Water." But nothing else is delivered for the night.
I guess the serum and the cream is more than enough. They both must have cost a fortune. I received my rewards for this day.
From the tiny vial, I take a dose of the sickly sweet sleep syrup that many of us hard-workers use in District 3, and it helps so much.
I doze off, wondering what day fifteen is going to bring about.
The first thing I'm conscious of is something on my face. It moves along my lip. I open my eyes. It is a large moth.
I sit up in a flash, spitting and sputtering as the moth flies away. My heart rate is already so high once again, because of my fear of insects, especially massive ones like that moth. Where did that thing come from anyway?
I notice there is not a lot of light yet for the start of the day, so either the moth really woke me up or the sleep syrup is not as potent as I expected. But after around ten minutes of the amount of light not changing, I fully open my eyes to the sky to find it covered in stormy grey clouds. It really is the day, but darkened to a weird variation of night. I have lost the position of the sun and consequently, the time of day.
It is a welcome reprieve from the sun's blistering heat, but the clouds worry me. Under normal weather, there's no doubt it will rain. In fact, it should be raining right now if it is this dark. Fog yesterday, the gamemakers are cooking up something else today.
It has not rained, nor was a cloud visible, since the sixth day with Ryno, sheltered under our building for the half-day downpour. I have seen the strength of that rain and remember how grateful I was to be under a building. Now, I'm sheltered by nothing, except a wall which can only block severely angled rain.
I have a choice to make. Do I stay here or find shelter? There might be a few buildings left, and something tells me the Palace will still be standing up for a long while. No, I am going to meet a tribute and die at their hands, and that's what the gamemakers want. For us to meet each other and battle. I am not ready for that.
That means I will have stay here, work hard to create a shelter on my own or else, get drenched. A shower would be nice, but there is too variables with the water that won't allow that to be safe, and I do not want hypothermia.
I look at my items to see what I could use for a shelter. My jacket is not waterproof, useless in the rain. And I might need it for warmth anyway. It is already cooler than most days without the sun, and the gamemakers seemed to have lowered the humidity. Then I remember the piece of plastic that Ryno had before I even met him. Yes, this will work! I thank Ryno and I unfold the plastic. I try to picture the position of the plastic to best protect me from the rain, but they all result in water possibly seeping in to where I will sit.
After I reapply the cooling bruise cream, I move my camp to look for a place where the ground is slightly sloped higher. It is a little difficult considering the whole East Walls terrain appears to be flat, but I notice the ground right next to the East bordering wall is a little higher up, sloping down to the open areas. I take my place where the walls conceal me best. The water will have less chance of reaching my ground here.
I need to find a way to secure the plastic to the wall rather than just draping it around me and my stuff. All I have is the very thin and limited masking tape in the first-aid kit which I'm not sure will handle the rain, but I have no other options. I use up all the tape securing one edge of the square piece a little higher than my sitting height, but the plastic isn't large enough to angle down to the ground like a roof shelter and leave enough room in it, so I will have to leave the other end hanging up at a slightly lower height like an awning.
I still have the wooden stick from the South Garden. Probably the direct tree product that has not yet been reduced to ash in this arena. With the help of the knife, I drive the stick into the ground, where it holds up the plastic. The stick takes some space in the shelter, so I have to sit cross legged around it. With how hard the ground was, securing the stick in place has taken so much of my energy already.
I take a few minutes to admire the first shelter I made without using any leaves or more than one tree branch. It does not protect against the sun, but good news! There is no sun. Still, being resourceful has never been so crucial.
I reward myself with the last of my crackers. I do leave one cracker, though, for memento reasons. I have a few days before I will eventually give in to starvation, but thirst is my biggest problem at the moment. I have not gone without water for so long.
I look at the sky, about to produce some water. Will I be able to drink the rain, or will the gamemakers make it poisonous to make us suffer even more? Or will it even be rain? It could be acid, or ash, or some kind of jelly. The gamemakers have shown they can do anything.
It is just water, alright, but it buckets down so hard that I have to hold the plastic up immediately to prevent it from collapsing already. I'm stunned by the amount of rain. I am luckily still dry, but everywhere else has not been spared. The obscuring view of the rain has become as bad as the fog.
The volume of rain pouring down seems to lessen, but there is still a substantial amount. And it stays like this for minutes. Which turns to hours. And it is digging into my mind. Staying in a shelter or building for days with fine weather is much, much more tolerable than staying under a shelter, witnessing the constant pour of rain in the distance.
I never knew rain could make me feel like this, but I increasingly become more miserable. This is another test by the gamemakers. Non-stop precipitation. Oh, how I wish to be inside a building right now. I am doing nothing but sitting still, only moving to adjust the plastic where some water has pooled up a bit.
The rain has such a downing effect that I completely forget the possibility of its use for drinking. In day six, the rain was used to fill the aqueducts and allow water to be drunk again. So is this rain any different? It doesn't look any...
I put my hand out to feel the cool drops on my finger. No weird sensation except water. I bring my fingertip to my tongue. No unusual taste. This water can be drinkable.
I frantically bring out my canteen and set it right under the edge of the plastic where more water appears to drip from. It fills up after a while. I transfer most of it to the skin, resisting the urge to drink it immediately, and fill up the canteen again.
I still muster the patience to purify the water with iodine, since I still do have some left and I've heard an abundance of particles and water is held and brought together in the clouds, so there is a chance that this water could make me sick.
The wait is agonising. I have never been so excited for water. I have gone twenty-four hours without it. This might be the reason the sponsors were refusing to deliver water. The gamemakers held them off because they had a plan with the rain. Thirty minutes. Twenty minutes. Ten. Five. Three...
Fuck it. I need water. I open my canteen and I chug down the water. Cool, refreshing water. I have missed you. The rain doesn't show signs of stopping so I do not stop drinking either, until I halve my canteen.
I carelessly give out a mighty belch and I cry. I don't know why, but I just do. I don't believe it's because of anything in the water, but it is probably a combination of the miserableness of the rain and the fact that I was at a point where water was an absolute need. Where I was wanting water more than ever. And I got it. I am never taking water for granted ever again. I refill the canteen.
I continue to shed tears as the rain goes on, mostly because of the grooming effect of the rain. I will take this constant downpour over those hallucinations any day, but it is not any less than a torture.
It has been hours, or so it feels, and the rain just does not stop. It is honestly depressing. Is this actually how somebody diagnosed with depression feels? Eternal sadness. No signs of hope that anything will be better. Even having the water to drink no longer helps with the mind.
It is no use putting on a brave face here. It costs too much energy to smile over the misery. How can the cameras see through this rain anyway? I sink back, wondering how much I really am worth. My district thinks I'm different. My sister thinks I'm different. My mentors think I'm different. Radia thinks I'm different. Ryno thinks I'm different. But am I really? What have I actually done to stand out myself? I have not killed anybody yet. I have not lead an alliance. I have done nothing. I am just the same, puny District 3 kid. I am not different. I have just made it to the final five by luck. Avoiding deaths by luck. Meeting the right people by luck. Do I really deserve to win?
I remember the same people all giving me hope. There is no hope. I have run out of food. The others are probably doing well in buildings. They're much more stronger than me. I don't have the strength to defeat them in a fight.
My family... I will never see them again. I want to, but they seem so far away and I don't think I have the energy to reach them. I miss them so much.
I miss Beetee and Jovan, too. And I won't ever see them again, either. They have lost another tribute to the Games. I can't fulfil what they've taught me, no matter how well they are. I just can't anymore.
And Ryno. I need him. I want him back. He's somewhere out there, but I know I won't be able to find him. I'm alone in the cold, in the rain. I just want somebody, anybody. I just need a big hug.
The shelter gives way from the wall. The tape had gotten too wet. So the water now just streams down my lower back and to the ground, wetting my surroundings.
I don't move and just accept it by wailing and sobbing. This is suffering. The Games are taking its toll on me. I can't really... go on... anymore...
The rain stops. After an eternity. But I am still in apprehension. The clouds clear out to twilight, but I am still shaking in fear. It may be over, but I feel I am about to die. So weak. So vulnerable.
The volume of the anthem makes me jump. I must have still been in a trance from the rain. And I am brought back to the really. I am in the Hunger Games. It is the end of Day Fifteen. I have just survived a day of rain, and so has everybody else. I am shaking, because of the cold. The water from the rain has drenched my pants and the lower half of my shirt. I take off my pants to let my body dry, put my boots back on, and sit on my pack instead of the ground which is wet.
I'm still in the final five. Dominic, Jade, Ringo, and Ryno are still alive. I still have a chance to win. Has it really stopped raining?
But I spent three days in the same spot doing nothing but outlast. I have to do something else. I'm running out of time to meet back with Ryno. To talk to him again, before one of us dies.
Trumpets blare. The fanfare has me freeze in attention and nervousness. It is going to be an announcement.
I have not heard Claudius Templesmith's voice since day one. It is welcome confirmation that we are not stuck in here alone.
"Good evening, tributes." booms Claudius. "Congratulations on making it to the final five. As a reward, we are inviting you to a special banquet at the cornucopia tomorrow at dawn, providing you with all that you need. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favour."
The Feast! I should have seen how the past few days would lead up to this. The hallucinogenic fog. The rain. The gamemakers had forced us to starve ourselves out, to tempt us with the Feast, the Feast where the tributes reunite, and battle to result in deaths. I just feel that the five of us are going to be there at dawn of day sixteen, and that may be the beginning of the end. The finale of these Games.
I cannot miss out on the Feast. I will put myself at a disadvantage while all the others might give themselves additional days or even weeks of life. And I cannot just stay here anymore. Iam tired of this place.
But this means I'm going to fight with other tributes, and I won't be successful. If I am alone, that is. I need help. I need to work with somebody. I need to find them, and let them know.
With the pale moonlight, I look at the stick. I think of the alcohol swabs and the matches in my pack.
This is crazy, but I am doing it. I'm going to look for Ryno.
/y8b4cql6
Next: 37 - The Light; The Finale Division One (13.1)
