Woop woop another Games done! I'm almost starting to not lose ground lol.
Oh ha ha I just remembered Kazuo won the Resurrection Games! THAT's why someone asked if I would do him. Well too late now. TBH that's the one Games I regret. I should have chosen Apollo and I'll never get that back. I always forget Kazuo is a Victor, which tells you all you need to know.
Kazuo Braun- District Four male
There was something wrong with Silken. Usually, it was just like having my old friend back, even if I had to pretend his name was Farlan. Silken was the only one in the world who shared my past and understood it. I never thought I'd see him again, and even the Games felt like a blessing for it.
But there was something wrong with him. I knew this could happen to people like us. We didn't talk about it. Our handlers said it was weakness, and that only those who couldn't handle our job fell victim. I knew it wasn't really like that. PTSD was the inevitable damage of the trauma we went through. Everyone in the program had it to some degree. The only differences were the severity and the coping mechanisms. I got through mine by not thinking about my past, and I was lucky enough not to have it bad. Silken had it hard, and it didn't seem like he was coping at all.
"When I was Silken-" Silken started.
"Wasn't that the name your parents always went with? I'm glad they chose Farlan," I said. He wasn't getting it. He kept talking like that, like we could go back. I knew who he was, but if he ever let anyone else find out, the Capitol would kill him. He had to admit that. Come on, Silken. There's only one person left but us. Just make it a little farther and then… we'll figure it out.
"They're going to kill my brother," Silken said.
"I didn't know you even had a brother," I said.
"My brother Silken," Silken said. His eyes were weirdly unfocused, like he'd been hit in the head.
"Well, we'll have to get out of here and help him," I said. "But first we have to get out of here. Let's focus on that," I said.
The next day, I heard something both exultant and ominous: the final cannon. Silken's head moved at the noise. We looked at each other.
"Not many left now," Silken said. I'd been worried he might come at me. I felt bad for thinking it, but he wasn't right anymore. Something was wrong in his head, and I knew by then that I couldn't fix it.
'It's just us," I said. "Just you and me." And what are we going to do now? How can I kill you, especially when you're like this? But I don't want to die. I love you, Silken. But I don't love you that much.
I stood up and walked around Silken's side.
"They're going to kill us both," Silken said, looking up at me from where he sat. His fingers tensed around his sword, but he didn't move it.
No, Silken. They're just going to kill you. It didn't make a difference if I refused to fight my friend. The Gamemakers would send something for him. They would send something long and painful, giving the people what they wanted and sending a message to anyone that verged on revealing their secrets. More likely than not, they would purge Silken's entire family, tying up the loose end that was starting to unravel. He would die alone and afraid.
"Remember when we used to play 'with one hand behind my back'?" I asked, smiling and feeling the tears on my cheeks. My voice cracked, and Silken was too far gone to hear it. They'd taken everything from my best friend- his childhood, his innocence, his home, and now his sanity. He could have been the greatest of us, and they left him just an unfinished life. I looked at the side of his head, remembering how things used to be.
"We were the best," Silken boasted, remembering a past he knew more clearly than the present.
You taught me to do a somersault, I thought as I steadied my stance. "Or that time we shaved a little off one side of every spear, so everyone was throwing crooked for days?" I asked as my fingers went white against the grip of my sword. I always thought you were a better assassin than me, I thought as I pulled the sword back. "You're my best friend, Silken," I said as I cut off his head.