Day Three - Lurking in the Shadows
Seneca Pelletier - District Six
Seneca hated confinement. She was not claustrophobic, the young girl may fear a number of subjects such as spiders or the ocean, but small spaces had never induced panic attacks. But that did not sooth the annoyance brought about through lack of freedom, how she supposed to shine if there was no room to spread her wings?
Candace slept like a baby on the prison bench while the shorter had curled up on the floor, the elder girl was so graceful even in sleep that Seneca found herself envious. She had never been the prettiest girl, one of the downfalls of appearing cute, young, and innocent was that nobody would ever think of her as attractive.
Candace, however, had the beauty of models. Her skin was flawless, and her golden hair retained its silky smoothness despite days without a wash. Her features were perfect, Seneca wished she could reach out and pluck the girls perfect nose off and swap it with her own misshapen one.
Currently, Seneca sat with her back pressed to the cold brick wall, eyeing the sleeping Jadira Littler with a face red with anger. She twiddled with the stem of the crossbow bolt that had dug its way through Candace's bicep. The arrow head had thankfully missed everything of importance, but Seneca knew that the girls bloodied bandage would require numerous changes.
She did not want to let the arrow out of her sight, it was the only form of defense held between the girls. The head was stained red with blood, Seneca was careful to avoid touching it with her hands. The sticky red substance made her gag, and had she eaten before applying Candace's bandage, she would have thrown up all over the floor.
She sat listening to nothing but the heavy breaths and occasional murmur Candace would emit from her place on the bench for what felt like hours. She knew that it was morning, the lights that had illuminated the room the night prior had flicked off, allowing a glassy window that was too blurred to peer through to thrust light through to the small cell.
She felt herself begin to nod off after a long period of silence, she had sat up with little sleep for most of the night, and only now was the weariness getting to her. But right as her head threatened to loll on her shoulders, Jadira Littler let out a sudden cry from her bed and shot into a sitting position. Seneca's eyes bulged, a bloody mess of red and yellow had spilled from Jadira's ears and stained the sides of her face, the girl in question had her eyes closed tight with an expression of pain while clutching at the sides of her face and moaning in pain.
A small detail from the previous night lit up in Seneca's mind like a lightbulb, Jadira had been unable to hear anything the girls were saying and had repeatedly clawed at her ears as if they were causing her a great deal of pain. Had she been deafened by something?
Seneca knew nothing of Jadira, other than the name she had obtained from a picture depicting the girl at a younger age taking the lead role in a school play. She had little illusions that the girl was above killing, but that did not necessarily mean she was a mean person. Colder people had fallen to Seneca's innocent act than Jadira Littler.
While Jadira seemingly fought against an invisible foe in her bed by thrashing about and moaning in pain, Seneca worked up watery eyes and crawled closer to the bars. She climbed to her feet, yet stood in a slouch. Her hair was already messy enough, and to her disgust, a large splatter of Candace's blood had poured down the front of Seneca's shirt. Forcing her knees to quiver and letting out a number of soft sobs, she stood in wait for the moment Jadira would finally wake and peer in her direction.
It did not take long, Jadira eventually sat straight and her blotchy red eyes shot open. Her face was a mess of snot, tears, blood, and puss. Seneca fought the urge to gag as the girl gave a squeak upon sighting the crying child.
Raising a small and pale hand like a paw, Seneca rubbed at her left eye while her other hand fiddled with the handle of the crossbow bolt, "Please let us out,"
Jadira continued to stare at Seneca as if she were an alien, until Seneca let her entire body tremble upon letting out a strangled "Please!"
"Oh my god!" Jadira said, her voice loud and uneven. She scrambled from the confines of her sheets, and crossed the floor towards Seneca with a face of both worry and pain, "What did I do?"
Seneca only continued to sob, taking a step backwards and retracting her rubbing hand to join it's companion on the neck of the bolt. Jadira's eyes flickered from the arrow to the bloody stain on Seneca's shirt and let out a strangled sob. The young girl fought the urge to smirk in triumph, Jadira Littler had been much easier to topple than the principal of her school, a highly regarded and widely known as a very harsh and cruel man. He had introduced a method of punishment into his school that was like an introduction to the whipping criminals would receive from peacekeepers, a belt strap or a ruler was often used to lash and harm troublemaking students. Seneca had been sent to the man after she had pulled a heinous prank on her elder sister involving a lit cigarette which resulted in an inferno which burnt the science building to ashes.
It had taken some convincing and a lot of crying, but Seneca eventually planted the idea that, while the act had been an accident, her sister had been the one to toss the cigarette into the curtain. While she had received no criminal charges, Abigail Pelletier was expelled from her school and had no choice but to take up work in the factories.
"What did I do?" Jadira almost screamed, Seneca assumed the girl had no idea how loud she was being as she crouched down by the bars of the cell and shouted, "Are you okay,"
Taking a tentative step back, Seneca shook her head and folded her arms across her stomach, hanging her head down and sniffling. Jadira made a sound that Seneca could not place. Cautiously, she peered out through the strands of brown hair that had fallen across her face to find Jadira holding a bottle of water through the bars of the cell.
On trembling legs, Seneca reclaimed the step she had taken, and slowly extended her hand towards the bottle as Jadira apologized profusely. But as her fingertips brushed the plastic coating of the bottle, Seneca lunged forwards and shoved both of her arms through the bars. Jadira let out a cry of surprise as Seneca's hands snagged the collar of her shirt and balled into fists. Mustering all of her strength, Seneca yanked arms backwards and cracked a malicious smile as Jadira's face smashed into and cracked loudly against the metal bars of the cell.
"What happened?" Candace suddenly squealed from behind as Jadira crumpled. Keeping one hand balled up in the girl's shirt to hold her in place, Seneca released the other and reached around to the girls back pocket, delving inside and retrieving a single, silver key.
"Thankyou so much!" Seneca said sweetly, and released Jadira's shirt. Standing and turning to Candace, Seneca wiped at her teary eyes and smiled innocently, "We can go now,"
"Is she okay?" Candace asked as Seneca stepped towards the door, giving the blonde a clear look at the crumpled Jadira. The girl's left ear had been smashed against the metal bar, furthering the damage done inside and causing a spill of crimson on the floor beside her. Jadira had curled up into a ball, sobbing loudly and trembling so violently that one could mistake her for the victim of a seizure.
"She'll be fine," Seneca said as she unlocked the door to the cell, pulling it in and allowing Candace to exit first, "Is your arm okay?"
"Painful," Candace sniffed, "But nowhere as bad as it was last night,"
"I hope it won't hurt too bad once those tablets run out," Seneca said as she followed Candace out into the open space, forcing another sniffle, "I was so scared for you last night,"
Seneca had stirred Candace a few hours from dawn and forced her to swallow a number of painkillers dry in the hopes that she would wake feeling less agonized than she had felt upon falling asleep.
"She scares me," Seneca whimpered as the two loomed over Jadira's crumpled form, "Can't we put her in the cell, Candy?"
"Well…" Candace appeared hesitant, sparking a flash of anger in the younger girl. Why had she been the one to stumble across Seneca on that hill, couldn't it have been somebody braver? Or smarter?
"Please, Candy!" Seneca said, eyes brimming with tears, "What if she comes after us? What if she hurts you?"
"Okay, okay," Candace said hurriedly, placing two soothing hands on the younger girl's shoulders, "You just sit down on the bed there, and I'll lock her up,"
Seneca nodded meekly and passed Candace the key, and moved to take a seat on the foot of the bed, which upon closer inspection, was also stained with crimson blood. Candace crouched down by the shivering Jadira and pondered for a moment, as if deciding whether or not this was a good idea. Eventually, she reached forwards and grasped Jadira's ankle and began dragging her towards the cell door, completely oblivious to Seneca's triumphant smile.
Kelani Richards - District Ten
Kelani's slender fingers trembled as she pried another book from her growing collection, flinging open the cover and burying herself inside before her attention could be drawn elsewhere. Sleep had evaded her for the vast majority of the night, save for the few moments she would nod off before being woken by a sound that may not have been real.
The library was dark and dreary during the day, but whatever the source of the faint light was shut off as night fell, plunging the library into darkness and leaving Kelani with nothing but a lantern she had dug out from a kitchen cupboard to see by.
Her nest had grown to accommodate a small mountain of pillows, a large bottle of water that replenishes itself whenever she looked away, a quilt pulled from one of the sofas in the lounge, a picnic basket of various foods she had taken from the fridge and kitchen cupboards, and a golden pocket watch which currently told her that five AM was rapidly approaching.
She remained curled up in her snug wrap of blankets for hours, arm only poking out to turn the pages of her book, trying to ignore the distant jingle of that dreaded music box that seemed to have been moved closer to the hiding girl. She was too terrified to unwrap herself and look, instead snuggling deeper into her cocoon and furthering her illusion that the world of printed fiction was the only world that existed.
Ever since she was young, Kelani had been a thrill seeker. She had always found the exhilarating effects of adrenaline to be addicting, and spent her free time, that wasn't being spent lazing around, searching for that rush through life threatening stunts, petty crimes such as theft, or sending herself into a happier place through drugs or alcohol.
Her mother had always despised Kelani's thrill seeking lifestyle, and would voice her complaints on a regular basis without doing anything to stop the acts that took place outside of the household. Her father didn't seem to care, although he was hardly around to notice much outside the few times she was arrested and the one time she landed herself in hospital.
That had been the day he flipped out, the only time in her life that Kelani found herself generally scared of her father. It had been one of the few days a week he was home for dinner, and had asked Kelani to fetch a fresh batch of eggs from the Graves family that lived down the road. She had happily obliged, ecstatic to spend some time with her dad. But as she turned onto the dirt driveway to the Graves farm, she was confronted with a herd of stampeding cows thundering down the path and leaving a cloud of dust in their wake. She should have dived to the side, saved herself from such immediate danger. But instead, she had bit her lip and taken a risk that had nearly gotten her killed.
She launched herself into the path of the cattle, and dashed away in the opposite direction, a grin breaking out on her face as that familiar rush powered her pumping legs and flailing arms. But apparently she had underestimated the speed of an animal she had always thought of as lazy. It had happened in an instant, one moment she was laughing and losing herself in the energy, and the next something slammed into her side with the force of a truck.
She could still remember the momentary weightless feeling of being airborne, an exhilaration that would have been almost magical had she not been in agonizing pain and scared out of her mind. She had hit the side of the driveway like a ragdoll, flopping into a thorny bush on the side that tore at the skin of her arms and cheeks. And then came the worst pain of all, it felt as if her leg had been squashed like a pancake. The sensation had been so bad that she had passed out, and only later would she find out from the Graves boy that one of the cows had strayed from herd and trampled her leg that had been strewn across the driveway.
She had been crippled for almost two years, confined to her bedroom and school, and always under the watchful eye of her mother. Her horrible, hate filled mother.
A sudden sound made Kelani's eyes shoot open, head snapping up from where it had lolled on her shoulder. Her eyes flicked down to the pocketwatch, which now read 7:48AM. She must have dozed off. A few feet away from her manmade nest of blankets and pillows, a heavy looking book with a thick black cover lay open on the floor, fallen from a shelf high above.
Kelani swallowed loudly and stood, her wrist trembling as she reached for the her curved sword. One of the red blankets clung to her shoulders like a cape, remaining attached as she stepped over her ring of pillows to inspect the book. The shadows lurched and warped around Kelani as she crept down the extensive hall, thankful that the book had fallen within the reaches of her glowing lantern.
She nudged the cover of the book closed with the very tip of her shoe, refusing to risk crouching down and leaving herself vulnerable to whatever monsters lurked in the shadows, whether they be human or not. Her eyes raked over the cover of the book as it folded over, only to find that the book was blank. There was another thud from behind, Kelani whipped around to see that another book had toppled from the shelf to her left, this time a brightly coloured comic book. The graphic images felt so out of place in the formal and frankly depressing library, the cover depicting an enormous spider with pearly white fangs and strands of green saliva pouring from it's mouth only adding to Kelani's paranoia.
A third book fell free of it's shelf above, closely followed by a fourth. Suddenly, Kelani was caught in a shower of toppling books that fell from shelves that towered into darkness, and amidst the thuds of books that miraculously left her untouched, came a long and loud groan that shattered the peaceful aura of the vast library. Kelani's head tilted upwards, and let out an ear piercing scream that would have left nearby dogs howling. The shelf to her left was dangerously tilting, falling in a slow manner that fit the setting on the house all too well. Kelani's scream failed to cease as she dashed into the shower of books that grew in numbers with each passing second, refusing to allow the novels that collided with her running form to slow her down.
There was no time to salvage anything from her nest, Kelani helplessly leapt over her mountain of fabrics, foot colliding with the shining lantern and smashing both the glass casing and the bulb inside, plunging the library into darkness. She stumbled, but managed to remain on her feet. Her head was pounding as she ran, the terror rendering the girl dizzy and clumsy as she drove herself further into the darkness. Her screams had receded to strangled and breathy sobs as her pumping legs began to burn, her once injured limb protesting loudly enough that she was forced to slow to a jog.
There was a tremendous crash from somewhere far behind, sending shockwaves through the library the knocked Kelani from her feet and sent her flailing forwards. Her chest collided with something warm and concealed by the shadows, something that fell along with her and took on the role of a cushion as she fell. Her face was buried in a furry substance that clung to her moist face, and her knee was digging into something soft and squishy. Only in a far reaches of her conscious mind did she realize that the object that had broken her fall was another human being.
Yvette Macura - District Eleven
The morning was crisp and beautiful on that fateful Thursday morning. Yvette started it as she would any other, flopping over and slamming her hand down on the electronic alarm. The noise refused to shut off, growing in volume and intensity until the ten year old girl finally slipped from beneath her covers and shut the contraption off at the source.
The red numbers flashed 7:30, leaving her with plenty of time to prepare for school. Stretching her arms above her head until her back cracked, Yvette yawned and smiled as the stiffness in her muscles dissolved.
Her strides were long, confident, and held a sort of bounce to them that most adults lacked, not a worry weighing down her shoulders and dampening her mood. Catrina sat on a rickety chair by the kitchen table, messily stuffing a piece of buttered toast into her mouth with strawberry jam smeared across the side of her face.
"Morning 'Vette!" She squeaked, eyes shining as her elder sister and personal hero passed through the kitchen without a passing glance. Yvette was not at all surprised by her sisters idolisation of her, in fact, she reveled in it. Why shouldn't the five year old adore her perfect sister, the popular girl with perfect grades and an athletic body to match.
Yvette passed through the kitchen and slipped through the hallway and into the bathroom, not bothering to down her own breakfast and glass of milk her mother had set out for her. Yvette's parents started work at the crack of dawn most days a week, and would come home only to eat dinner and fall into bed. Their eldest daughter was granted the responsibility of caring for Catrina, a task she held with little importance or effort.
A frown threatened to break Yvette's cheery expression for a fraction of a second as she glanced upon the bathroom mirror, which was splattered with sticky white toothpaste from the night before.
"Cat!" Yvette barked down the hallway, "I told you to clean the mirror!"
A muffled apology came drifting back, most likely stifled by another mouthful of toast. Yvette sighed and snagged a nearby towel from a rack to wipe down the glass, she was not about to ruin her mood over such a mundane inconvenience. Today was an important day, Yvette was going to be scoring an award not only for being the top of her class, but for scoring the most goals over the course of the year on her soccer team. She would also have won the perfect attendance award, had her sister not come down with chickenpox a few months back.
Once the mirror was as clean as it was going to get, Yvette pulled a stool out from beneath the cabinet with her foot and stood upon it. Despite her exceptional soccer skills, Yvette was one of the shortest on the team, a fact her teammates were reluctant to forget.
The kitchen was empty again when Yvette returned from brushing her teeth and perfecting her hair. Catrina's plate and half-full glass of milk still sat on the table, once again leaving her mess for Yvette to clean.
"You know, I would love a week without having to clean up after you," Yvette grumbled to nobody as she gathered the diningware and brought them to the tiny sink, ready to scrub. Catrina came back into the kitchen shortly after, dressed for school and sporting a poorly crafted ponytail on the back of her head.
"You have something here," Yvette said as Catrina's chin came to rest on the counter beside her sister. The younger wiped at the opposite side of her face to the one Yvette had tapped. The elder sighed, dropping the plate she was scrubbing and reaching out to wipe the sticky substance away.
"Twinkle needs the toilet," Catrina squeaked as Yvette resumed her washing of the dishes.
"Well, Twinkle has a litter box," Yvette answered, placing the last of the dirty plates on the drying rack and pulling the plug.
"It's full,"
"It's your job to clean it," Yvette sighed.
"I don't know how," Catrina said, and once again Yvette's lips threatened to pull into a frown. Why was her sister so difficult? The younger trailed after Yvette as she moved from the kitchen to the living room, drying her hands on a teatowel and tossing it onto a growing mountain of laundry in the corner.
"Both dad and I have shown you how to do it," Yvette said, snagging her backpack from the sofa and shrugging it onto her shoulders, "You'll have to change it after school,"
"But she has to go now!"
"She can wait," Yvette said, picking up her sisters smaller backpack, "Turnaround,"
Catrina pouted yet turned, allowing Yvette to pull her arms through the straps. The girl complained no more as she stalked towards the front door, Yvette snorted at her hunched shoulders and over exaggerated stomps. Snagging the keys from the hook, Yvette smiled down at the grumpy child, "Twinkle will be fine. She can wait a few hours,"
Yvette opened the door and gestured for Catrina to go first. The child raised her leg to take a step, only to retract it with a yelp as a black shape shot out from inside the house.
"Twinkle!" Catrina cried as the cat shot across the yellowing lawn and through the open, rusty gate.
"Catrina wait!" Yvette shouted as the younger girl tore after her pet, the older girl groaned and quickly turned to slam the door shut before chasing after her. Twinkle had paused in the middle of the road, slouched in a sitting position and staring at the house across the street in a calm manner.
"Naughty Twinkle!" Catrina scolded as she bent down to scoop up the cat. Yvette groaned and peered down at her watch, which now read five past eight. They were going to be late.
"Hurry up!" Yvette called, stalling by the rusted iron gate and holding it open for the girl and the cat bundled in her arms. Catrina didn't answer, her attention had been stolen by the pet she was currently nuzzling. Yvette sighed, raising a hand to her forehead and wiping at a bead of sweat. It was a reflex response to agitation, which frankly made Yvette even angrier. On top of everything that was bothering her, she smelt like a dirty gym sock.
Yvette leaned her elbow against the brick podium, stealing a glance back at the rundown house behind her. The Macura family lived on the outskirts of town, which said enough about their financial situation there and then. The walk into the heart of the district to school was long and dreary, and the girls were going to be late if Catrina didn't hurry up.
The screeching of tires hardly broke Yvette's train of thought as she stared back at the peeling front door of her house. Cars weren't a frequent occurrence in District Eleven, especially in the less wealthy areas. She recognized the sound, but misassigned it as the sound of machinery from the construction site a few streets over. The screeching of tires did not catch Yvette's attention. But the crunching of metal did.
For a fleeting moment, it was as if the world ceased its turn. Yvette turned to look at the road in an almost tranquil manner, eyes first falling on the red car with a crumpled bonnet idling in the middle of the road, occupants inaudibly arguing on the inside. Then, her eyes drifted to the twisted form on the road a few fleet away, the only sign of movement being the squirming cat struggling to free itself from frozen arms.
"Catrina. . ." Her voice was but a whisper, the world around her seemed to peel away leaving only Yvette, Catrina, Twinkle, and the red car alone in a swirling pool of darkness.
"Catrina!" Yvette cried again, her voice an octave louder. Her voice couldn't seem to portray the despair that hadden suddenly crashed over her in a wave, the feeling that her knees were going to buckle before throwing up the breakfast she hadn't eaten.
Catrina had fallen facing Yvette, eyes held closed tightly in a manner that suggested she may still be alive. But her face was a mess, flesh hanging off in grotesque folds and appearing as if it had been dipped in a pool of cranberry juice. Her body was twisted at a disgusting angle, and one of her arms was now a bloody mess and bent at a 90 degree angle.
"H-help…" Her voice was still too quiet, only those who were standing right beside her would have heard her desperate plea. The red car began to reverse, and Yvette stumbled forwards from the gate and out onto the gutter as it began to pull around Catrina's broken form, "Help!"
This time, her voice was a scream. The car didn't stop, rapidly picking up speed and tearing down the road, away from the life they had just ruined. Yvette screamed for help again as she stumbled further out onto the road, kneeling in a pooling puddle of crimson on the bitcheman. She could hear doors slamming nearby, and shouts that were nothing but white noise for the girl who was now outwardly sobbing for her sister. She reached out, and brushed a bloodied strand of hair from Catrina's stoney face. Twinkle continued to squirm between them, finally wriggling free of his owner's arms and scampering back towards the open Macura gate.
Yvette let the cat go, refusing to move from her sister's side as people flooded onto the street from all directions. She didn't pay attention to their questions, because she knew there was nothing they could do. Because the life of Catrina Macura had already slipped away forever.
"Got everything, kid?" Osborne slapped Ryland's shoulder in a friendly manner, to which the younger boy scowled and shoved his companion away.
"How long are you going to keep this up?" Ryland didn't turn to look at Osborne as he spoke, it was amazing how quickly a connection of trust had formed between both boys.
"For as long as I can," Osborne grinned, deep blue eyes flicking up from where Ryland was carefully depositing his sketchbook to where Yvette leant against the wall beside their selected hatch, "How about you?"
"I think I have everything," Yvette nodded, "Unless I left something under the desk. . . I better check again,"
She could hear Osborne let out an exasperated sigh as she dropped to her knees beside the teacher's desk to grasp a better look under. It was the third time she had stopped to ensure she had everything, she had already held the group up by unpacking and repacking her bag to make sure everything was in place, and had made both Ryland and Osborne do the same.
She knew the boys were getting frustrated, if the hushed whispering going on behind her back was anything to go by. But she couldn't help it, she just had to make sure that everything was where it should be. What if somebody got hurt, and they discovered they had left their bandages behind?
"Yvette?" Osborne said, crouching down beside the kneeling girl, "We have everything. It's time to go,"
"But what if-"
"We have everything," Osborne repeated, tilting his head downwards slightly and raising his eyebrows. His voice was stern, yet held a tenderness that one would use on a panicked child to calm them down. As annoying as the voice was, the reassurance was appreciated.
"Right," Yvette whispered, picking herself up and brushing off her legs, "Right. Let's do it. Let's go,"
"That's the spirit!" Osborne clapped her on the back as she stood, forcing the girl to turn around to hide her blush. Maybe if she had been as confident as she had been years ago, she would have flirted a little with the boy. She knew she wasn't an ugly girl, but she had stopped caring about her appearance a long time ago. Her hair was dry and her skin was peppered with pimples, but she knew she was still much prettier than most girls out there.
"I'll go first," Ryland said as he slung his own pack across his shoulders and grabbed the metal hatch, twisting the wheel and attempting to pull it open.
"Woah, woah, woah," Osborne said, pushing through the scattered desks and grabbing Ryland's wrist before he could pull it all the way, "No way. You hang back with Yvette, I'll go first,"
"I can handle things on my own, you know," Ryland growled, his face darkening as he straightened his back. It was comical really, Yvette enjoyed watching the two of them interact. Ryland was as innocent and adorable as a puppy, and looked like a kitten trying to intimidate a Lion as he glared up at Osborne.
"I'm sure you can," Osbourne said with a smile, "But, since I'm the only one with a weapon, I think I will be the one going first,"
He raised his eyebrows and sucked his lips into his mouth, creating an expectant look that Ryland gave into after a short moment of prolonged defiance. The boy stood aside with a mumbled 'fine', and allowed a smiling Osborne to take the lead.
"Buckle up kids," Osborne said, looking back at his companions who now stood side by side, "We're going on an adventure,"
Kelani Richards - District Ten
If Kelani had been in a panic before, then this was an entire new level of absolute terror. There had been a moment of brief tranquillity as Kelani sprawled, unable to move on top of an unseen body while the creaking and groaning of shifting bookcases. And then came the screaming.
At first, it wasn't her own. The person below her, a boy if the deep tone was anything to go by, was bellowing and screeching incoherent obscenities in Kelani's close ear. The girls own screams soon mixed with those of the unidentified boy, and suddenly Kelani found herself on her feet and running in a blind panic further into the maze of books and shelves.
The boy was still screaming from somewhere behind, Kelani's took a sharp left and slipped through a space between one bookcase and another, dashing into another aisle in hopes of distancing herself from her attacker as light began to seep back into the library.
There was no telling where the light came from, it was like a gas, slowly flooding the room with no visible source. While still dark, Kelani was now able to at least make out shapes through a swirl of dark colours. With her levels of exhaustion rising and her once injured leg panging with pain, Kelani was only to able to weave through another few passages before her weaker leg suddenly gave way. Kelani flew a few inches forwards and slammed into the carpet chin first, the crimson floor burning the underside of her face in the process.
"Fuck this," Kelani groaned, propping herself up on her hands as an involuntary tear slithered down her cheek. She spent a few moments pawing at her new injury that was currently burning insistently, before she noticed the spot she had fallen in was far brighter than the rest of the library.
Raising her head, Kelani drew backwards into a sitting position at the sight of the enormous statue looming over her. Bathing in light filtered in from the skylight above, a marble depiction of a towering woman loomed over Kelani. She was over thirty feet tall, holding a shield three times taller than Kelani in one hand, and a golden angel that was closer to Kelani's height in the other. The woman's helmet was the most intriguing aspect of the statute, Kelani found herself marvelling at the three forms jutting from crown, an intimidating looking sphinx flanked by two proud griffons on either side.
Kelani had never truly understood her father's interest in artifacts of the past and depictions of artistic beauty, but this towering statue took her breath away. She had once heard of an enormous statue in passing during a history lesson that she had hardly payed attention to, Kelani wondered if this was the once renowned Statue of Liberty. The girl was transfixed, and limped towards the beauty with gawking eyes. It was as if she had forgotten the so recent intrusion on her prison as she laid her hand on the shield, marvelling at the patterns and carvings that felt so real beneath her skin.
It was almost incomprehensible to Kelani, how had this monster of a statue been created? Who was this woman, depicted as a warrior fiercer than any man? How long had it taken to make? It must have taken years to perfect the sphinx jutting from the helmet alone?
"Dad would know," Her whisper sounded foreign as it broke the trance she had locked herself into, "I should have asked him. I-I should have taken an interest,"
The one tear that had leaked upon her fall was now joined by another, and another, until her face was a cascade of crystal tears. Kelani slouched against the shield as sobs racked her tiny frame. She had hardly known the man who proclaimed himself as her father, the man who was hardly ever home and never shared his time away with the daughter who idolized him. The only real connection she had had with her father was his interest in art, an interest he had tried to share with Kelani on many occasion. She wished more than anything that she could go back and listen to what he had to say.
"I hardly knew him," Kelani sobbed, "And I never will,"
"I wouldn't say that," A male voice said. Kelani's head snapped up, blotchy eyes widening at the sight of the pale faced boy who was pressed up against the frame of the closest bookcase. One of his legs was a mess of bandages that had been soaked with blood, and his face wore an expression that suggested the wound beneath was still bothering him.
"So you made it out," Kelani managed to say, forcing a laugh that sounded faker than any other before it, "I'm impressed,"
"Not without a battle wound," The boy said, gesturing to his leg. He pulled himself further along the bookcase, and it was then that Kelani caught the glint of light flashing off the blade of a sword in his hand. The sword she had dropped.
Kelani recalled the pleading look he had shot her when he was cornered by the white haired girl with the sword. She also remembered the pitying frown she had given in response, and the look of despair that replaced his plea as she turned away. She hadn't thought much of it at the time, all she had known was that she needed to get out of there. She hadn't thought that mistake would come to bite her in the butt.
"Thats mine," Kelani said blatantly, sniffling slightly as she pointed at the sword.
"Well, I found it on the floor," The boy said, pausing to examine the weapon, "Finders keepers, right?"
"You think you can kill me with that thing holding you back?" She forced a surge of confidence, circling her finger in the direction of his bloody bandage. He didn't need to know that her own leg was causing her issues, "I just don't see that happening,"
"You were talking about your dad, right?" The boy said, limping further in her direction. Kelani felt her blood run cold, and swallowed loudly in response. The boy paused once again, this time glowering at Kelani with such hatred in his eyes that she wished she could melt into the shield that was pressed against her back, "You want to know who your father was? You want to know more about the man with the snake tattoo? Well, I'm going to tell you,"
He raised the sword again, this time pointing it at Kelani's chest with a message so clear that there was no need for the boy to be close enough to poke her with it.
"Your father, the enigma who you miss so dearly, was nothing but a filthy murderer," He spat the word father as if it left a bad taste in his mouth, and the subtle growl to his voice made him intimidating despite his injury, "Your father is the one who killed my sister,"
Brody Lewis - District Twelve
"You need to treat this injury with more care," Ivy said gently as she fixed Brody's bandage into place. The boy in question clenched his teeth, letting out a hiss of pain as the pin holding the fabric together scraped against his sewed up wound, "Sorry,"
"It's fine," Brody breathed. He shouldn't really get angry with this girl who had possibly saved his life, but she has been nothing but a nuisance ever since he woke up. Ivy McKinnon was unnaturally positive, and it irked Brody to no end.
News flash, He thought to himself, the world isn't the pretty picture you think it is.
His eyes shifted to where Tracey was positioned in the far corner of the room, sitting with her legs crossed, fingers curled into circles above her knees, and eyes closed with a peaceful expression, "What's she doing?"
"Meditating," Ivy supplied as she carefully packed up her first aid kit. Her movements were fluid and precise, Brody was not sure he had ever seen a medical kit so neatly kept in his life. Everything Ivy did was like this, as if anything less than perfect would destroy her, "She's trying to calm her anger,"
"And it doesn't work if you two won't shut the fuck up," Tracey growled, cracking open an eye and glaring at Brody, who only blinked in response. He was not sure what to make of Tracey, she had so far been snappish and crude, and in truth she scared the younger boy.
"Keep at it," Ivy soothed, her voice soft and elegant, "You will get better with practice,"
Tracey mumbled a sharp yet unintelligible comment that Brody could not interpret as she closed her eye and resumed her attempted meditation. The boy sighed and adjusted his arm in Ivy's makeshift sling, wincing at the sharp stab of pain coursing through the limb.
His stomach rumbled, yet he gave no verbal indication that he was hungry. These girls had already done so much for him; he couldn't ask them to spare whatever portion of food they had left. He doubted there was much stuffed in the handbag dangling from Ivy's shoulder.
"Brody," Ivy began, shuffling across the room and lowering herself into a cross legged position on the floor. Long fingers laced together in her lap, posture so formal that Brody seldom saw it outside of job interviews on television, "I'm sorry about your friend,"
A breath caught in Brody's throat at the mention of Phelan. He had been repressing the memory of the boys sudden and brutal death. Not because he feared that the image would scar him. No, he was repressing it because of the way his heartbeat suddenly leapt at the memory of the boy standing there with a gaping hole in his chest. Because of the way the corners of his lips twitched upwards at the memory. Brody Lewis was trying to forget the circumstances of Phelan Krouse's death because he enjoyed it.
Rolling his shoulders forwards, Brody quickly began to weave a mask that suggested that he hadn't enjoyed watching Phelan die, "We weren't friends. Not really. Forced together by circumstance, I guess,"
"I suppose that is the best way to describe all of the relationships formed in here," Ivy said, mouth forming into a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, "They're not real. But they're nice to have. It's comforting knowing everybody else is just as terrified as you are,"
"Yeah," Brody croaked, pretending to wipe away at a trailing tear. It wasn't that he was not saddened by Phelan's death. He wasn't heartless. From the small moment the two had shared, Phelan came across as a decent kid. A kid who liked to knit. A kid whose life was taken far too soon, "Makes it easier. Not being alone,"
"You guys are really killing the mood," Tracy growled. Brody's eyes shifted to her moving form, "I'm done with this crap, Ivy. It doesn't work,"
"It will if you keep at it," Ivy said soothingly as Tracey rose and stretched her back, arms reaching towards the ceiling.
"Yeah well, I'm giving up now," Tracey huffed, pressing her shoulder blades up against the wall, "What's with the depressing crap? Thought you were all about positivity,"
"I am," Ivy said, as she too climbed to her feet, "I was merely telling Brody how wonderful our relationship is going to be,"
"Relationship?" Tracey raised an eyebrow at Brody, "Ain't that moving a bit fast?"
"What? Not that kind of relationship!" Brody hastily answered, thankful for the distraction that drew his mind away from Phelan Krouse, "She meant a friendship. I do already have a girlfriend of my own,"
"Oh, that must be hard," Ivy said, gliding across the floor and draping an arm across his shoulders, "But think of her as a motivation. Motivation to take down the competition and win!"
"Yeah, it's not that easy," Brody grumbled, scratching at the stubble on his chin, "She's in here with me,"
The revelation was like a whip crack that stunned Ivy into silence. Tracey's mouth fell open momentarily, only to be quickly closed as she looked over at Ivy, "Try putting a positive spin on that one,"
"She doesn't need too," Brody snapped, pulling away from Ivy and turning his back as her the pale appendage fell limply at her side, "I know what I'm going to do. I'm going to find her. Protect her. And when we make it to the end...she's going to be the one that makes it out alive,"
There were no answers to his bold plan. Brody did not look back at his newfound companions. He didn't want to see the expressions on their faces, whether they be supportive or pitying, "Now we should get moving. I think we all know what the gamemakers do to tributes who stay in one place for too long,"