{My Lips Are Sealed* [Navy-Day 5]

You wander through a forest of lies in search of the truth. Searching for something that is real amidst a dream. But just when you think who may have found the truth amongst the trees, just when you think a dream may actually be reality, it all dissolves and you realize that their are no truths. A dream can never become reality. The queen cannot always find the truth. Her majesty does not always get her way. I sit at the edge of the giant hole, the origin of darkness itself, listening to the wind whip across it, a howling sound escaping to reach into my ears. I cross my legs tracing the lines on the bottom of my foot. They are stained black from the dust on the ground. Dust. It's not dust - only a true idiot would think that. No, the black that burns the bottom of my feet is ashes. The ashes of burnt secrets - secrets that are no longer secrets - confessed sins. The poor souls that thought telling the world of their deepest sins would make them feel guilt free cry from beyond the grave. I hear them. Telling your darkest secrets doesn't make you feel better, in fact, it only poisons the ones who listen to you. That's why the queen stays quiet upon her thrown. That's why her lips are sealed forever.

I twirl the black dust with my fingers, hiding my hand beneath the surface, letting my fingers dance with the secrets of the past. How many secrets were revealed in order to get so much ash? How many lives were ruined because someone thought they might feel better if they told the world? How many of these dead secrets are mine? I hold a handful in the air, a few particles slipping from my hand and falling back to the ground. Like the sand in hourglass. How long will it take the rest of the ashes to slip from my hand? How much longer do I have before I manage to let all my secrets slip away from me? I tip my hand, letting more ashes fall adding up in a pile on the ground. How much have a spilled? How many secrets have already crossed my lips? I clasp my palm shut, holding tight to the remaining ash in my hand. I hear the dead souls crying to me, wanting to listen to my very last secret, yearning to know all about me, wishing the same fate upon me as they had suffered. But her majesty does not bow down to her peasants. She stands above them, taunting them with power. I won't let all my secrets slip away. Not today. (What, are you Aria now?) Never.

Boom. I place the ashes in my lap, holding them in a fold in my dress. Boom. I let a smirk pull at the edge of my lip and gather enough saliva to spit into the ashes on the ground. Boom. How weak they had to be to let it all slip away from them. How completely idiotic they had to have been to fall victim to God and his endless preaching of, "Confess and you shall be forgiven." I lay on my back, spreading my arms across the secrets, smearing my power in their faces. I hold in my lap what they couldn't keep hidden. I am the queen. I sit up and reach for my food and eat. EW, NAVY! WTH?! THAT'S LIKE 3 DAYS OLD! Then I sift through my piles of plants until I find the one that I want. The kind that will make it easier to bear. I flip open my med kit and finger the soft, clean cloth that reminds me of clouds. Then I find the needle and twirl it between my fingers, watching it glisten as it spins. I thread it, then press the needle to my head, stitching my head back together where it has split from the falling rock. I don't even have to look to know what I'm doing - I could be from District 8. I snap off the piece of string where the cut stops, making sure I have enough left to finish up without starting with a new needle and thread.

Three cannons, three dead. How many more secrets were confessed with a dying breath? I touch my lips and find that I can't feel them entirely. Good. I take a deep breath, and start to count, start to figure out who is left. Which of my fellow tributes may still confess their greatest secrets. I pull my lower lip down and press the needle down until it bursts through to the outside of my lip and pull it through. Tears well in my eyes, but I cannot stop now. I press the needle to my top lip, pulling it through again. Count. One. The boy from One has yet to flash in the sky. I swallow and glance to the laurel on the ground that I have yet to return. Two. The girl from Two, Demeter, the name of a goddess in a place where they used to roam. Three. Four. Those boys I was with when Phyllis died, Damion and Riker. What became of them? Five. The boy from 7, Curtis Grant. I virtually watched the boy get cut to pieces at the Bloodbath. Perhaps he was reborn from the blood of others. Six. Seven. The Wolfes are still out roaming the place. A crippled boy and the girl who got the third highest training score. How haven't I heard their howls yet? Eight. Wednesdae, the Career from nine. The boy who missed me twice at the Bloodbath. No doubt he seeks some sort of revenge. Nine. Ten. The girls from eleven and twelve, Heather and Ailis. Been a while since the females in the lower districts where contenders. Eleven. Me, the delusional queen from six, with her silver crowns and stitched shut lips.

I pull the needle through my lip for the last time and tie a knot in the end before I snap the needle off the and wipe the tears from my eyes. I strum my finger across the lines that are tight across my lips and smile. I swipe my tongue through my mouth, tasting blood. I toss the needle into the deep dark abyss before me and smile. But it turns out as more of a smirk with my lips sealed so tight. Hush, dear queen. Don't say a word. I tie the pile of ashes that lay in my lap into a knot, keeping them from falling, holding them with me, taunting every dead soul with the secrets that I keep. Devil's gunna get you a soul to burn. I rise to my feet, kicking at the ashes at my feet, laughing internally. My secrets are safe with me - how bout yours? If that soul don't scream in pain, I find my middle fingers and hold them in the air spinning so that wherever the cameras are the people of the Capitol can see. All the people who have asked who my father was, who have wanted to know where I came from, how old I was, what my name was, where I lived, what my favorite food was, what my worst fears were, who my friends were, who I dared to love with all my heart - I raise my fingers to them and spit a silent, Fuck you!! at them with a muffled scream.

Devil's gunna give all your secrets away.

So, who's next? Whose soul must I burn to keep my secrets hidden? Which tribute must fall so that I can stay?

Choose, darling. Whose blood shall spill so that your secrets stay hidden?

[Eats the oober yummy Scyther]
[Uses needle and thread and med plants]
[SEWS HER LIPS SHUT]
[IS OFFICIALLY INSANE]
[Goes to kill other tribs since she don't wanna to tell anymore of her secrets b**ches >.< Hmm? What?]