I lay splayed out across my bed, as deep chills intertwine their way through my body. I know what it is my body craves, but I cannot allow it to take control of my body. I close my eyes tightly, as my breathing becomes shallow. "Damn withdrawal," I mutter under my breath, as I mentally count how many days it has been since the alluring burning sensation that alcohol brings forth has danced across my tongue. Several weeks it has been now; the longest I have gone without giving into my addiction in years.
How is it that it took being reaped to realize just how much I was destroying my life? My thoughts begin to run away from me, as they begin to ponder the idea of what would have happened to what is left of me if I hadn't been reaped for this year's Hunger Games. A dark image begins to creep its way across my vision, of an eerie alley that holds the power to send shivers down even the bravest of soul's spines. Deep in that alley a boy no older then eighteen lays face down in the dirt, his final breath having been swept away into the cold night air.
A bottle lays discarded next to him; the sweet honey colored liquid pouring across the pavement into the lowly gutter. That boy gave into his deepest of desires and he paid the price for it. Now there he lays alone in an alleyway, forgotten to the rest of the world that we call Panem. His breath taking clear blue eyes are now glazed over, as the shimmer of the stars are reflected in the surface of his cold dead eyes. All the life has been drawn out of him by his own choices. However no one would be able to understand that he did not want the life to leave his eyes.
No one can understand what it is like to be so wrapped up into an addiction, with seemingly no way out. Help is not something he wanted to seek, as he didn't want to be seen as weak. He did not want the world to know that in reality he was nothing more than a broken shell of the boy he used to be. He was supposed to be one of the toughest careers to ever emerge from the haven of District 1, but instead they broke him. They shattered him from the inside and discarded the pieces without as much as a second thought.
Now those broken pieces were beyond repair and no one could put them back together. He didn't want to be weak, but that is what he had succumbed to. He would never allow the rest of the world to pay witness to that, which is why he would wear a mask. This mask hid everything that he truly was from the rest of the world; keeping all his secrets buried deep beneath the surface. These secrets held the power to destroy him even further and that is exactly what it is they did.
Night after night of his youth and later young adult years he would waste away the hours either alone at a bar or secluded alone in his room, with a bottle of that desirable honey colored liquid held tightly between his clutches. He could not stop himself and in a way he didn't want to at that point. He didn't see the point in going on so he went about numbing himself to the point where he couldn't feel anything. No one can understand how alluring the feeling of numbness can truly be. It calls you forth like a sweet Siren's song and holds you as its prisoner. There is nothing one can do once it wraps its cold icy claws around your flesh.
The power that precious bottle of liquor held, was something only the boy could see. No one could grasp why he so desired to drink his way into nothing and in a way he didn't quite understand either. An addiction is something not everyone experiences, but the ones that do know it is something that one cannot easily turn their backs on. Once it has its hold on you, it is almost impossible to let go.
I breathe in sharply, as the image of the lifeless boy's features begins to become more apparent and I know that boy is me. If I had not been reaped, death still would have been what awaited me. Internal numbness is what I would have to look forward to, but now I refuse to let go.
What is it that I exactly fight for now?
I fight for the chance of a new beginning; a chance to start over once more. As I rub my temples softly I know this won't be something easily achieved. Not only must I fight against my own demons that threaten to tear me down until there is nothing left, but now I must face twenty three other human beings who want to see my crimson blood painted across the grass.
My mind continues to drift further away from me, as memories blur their way across my mind. An ear splitting sound of glass shattering against the cold stone of a wall sends me head first into a memory of one of the last nights I spent with Harper.
It was late and the cool autumn air playfully drifted through the open windows, bringing with it the sweet smells that Nature can call forth. I walked through the door with a bottle of rum hidden beneath my jacket. I was giving in once more, but I was intent on keeping this as just another secret I would keep hidden from Harper. I walked through the living room my intentions on just heading straight to my room, but the moment her eyes fell upon me, she stopped me in my tracks.
After that one night where I was a finger's grasp away from departing from this world, Harper had become more wary of my actions. She didn't want to lose me to my addiction, but she knew she was fighting a war she could not win. With no words surrounding us, she stood up and walked towards me, as she placed a delicate hand on my chest. She leaned in, as if she was about to press her lips against my own, but instead she reached into my jacket and pulled the bottle of rum away from me.
She looked down at the bottle and a look of hurt intertwined its way into her features. "Why?" She said barely above a whisper and in response I tried to snatch the bottle back from her, "Just give it back," I muttered, as the only thing I could think about was driving myself into a world of nothing. In a blink of an eye anger slowly took over her, as she threw the bottle across the room so it collided with the wall. The deep honey colored liquid stained the smooth surface of the wall, as the sound of shattering glass echoed in my ears.
I tried to shove past her, but instead she grabbed onto my arms and pulled me back to her. "Why must you do this to yourself Dane? Do you not care about anything anymore?" He tone had begun to rise to a level she rarely used.
"Do you really want to hear my answer to that?" I replied back to her harshly.
"You need to choose now Dane; it's either the alcohol or me," It took a moment for her words to settle upon me, but once they did I knew I needed to be careful about my next choice of actions. In a moment my lips collided with hers and they were filled with an angry passion. This was a decision that would not be easily made, but I would play my cards out at a later date.
Our kisses were always rough and normally brought on by the heat of an argument. Fingernails would scratch across the surface of skin, as teeth would tug at the delicate curve of each other's lips. The way our lips pressed against each other's was as if we knew this may be the last time we would ever get to feel this intoxicating sensation, but if only we knew that those kisses would be our last.
With our arms intertwined around each other we began to lose ourselves in the sensation of pleasure, as we walked backwards towards my room. Clothes would be torn away from each other's bodies, as we slowly began to give into what we both wanted. My lips crushed against hers, as we fell backwards onto the bed; I poured every emotion that I held onto into that one seemingly simple sensation. All the pain, hate, despair, happiness and even the emotions my addiction could bring forth were blended together into that one crushing kiss.
However the lovemaking that would follow was always sweet and gentle, as if we were both afraid one of us might just break. It would leave us both breathless, as we lay in each other's arms, as if we were each other's life line. In many ways Harper was my life line, as she was the only thing holding me to this world. I long to go back to that moment of almost serene peace, but my mind is dragged back into my reality unwilling by the sound of a sharp knocking on my door.
I snap my eyes open, but I do not move an inch. Perhaps if I act as if I am not here this unwanted visitor will leave me be. A few moments of silence drag on by until the sounds of the sharp knocking ring through the air once more. I unwillingly stand up and swing open the door. "What the hell do you-" I cut myself off, as my eyes fall upon the form of Aqua. She stands tall, as she keeps her hands hidden behind her back. I go to slam the door in her face, but before I can she swiftly steps into the room uninvited.
"Get out of my room now," I growl quietly, as she walks further into my room, but she makes sure whatever it is that she hides behind her back remains unknown to me.
"Now Dane, is that any way to speak to a lady who is just here to discuss strategy with you?" Her voice is one that oozes innocence, but I know she is anything but that. I open my mouth to say something, but I fall silent once she brings her hands into sight and reveals what it is she is holding.
"I thought we could share a few drinks while we discuss plans for the bloodbath," As she speaks my eyes remain transfixed upon the bottle, which is held delicately between her clutches. My entire body craves to take the bottle from her and take it for myself, but instead my entire form falls still.
I now know what angle she is playing at, she must have figured out my one real weakness. This is where these games are brought to a whole new level and hold a new air of danger about them. How much longer can I possibly go without giving in when temptation is everywhere I look? No matter where it seems I go my addiction will follow close after me. With Aqua steeping closer to me with a wicked smile dancing across her lips I know I am that much closer to falling over the edge; just that much closer to finally giving in.
A/N So let me know what you think so far, as I'm still not even quite sure where it is I am taking this story and some feedback would be great to hear ^^