Lean on Me //Sininchaos\\

Often I lie wide awake,
Think of things I can make
But I don't seem to have the parts to build them
Human I wonder why you're a better make

It was after the interviews, after all the crap that my mind wasn't able to wrap around. Thoughts used to be weak against my power. Now all they do is consumed my actions while I roam the stupid halls of the capitol. And even worse are the thoughts are making me want to lash out. There are plenty of people too that can easily take my frustration for me if I deem it worthy, but then the games would be wasted on me. Immediate disqualification. No more games to help the memories of Remie. No more games to prove that I'm better. No more games. Instead it will be life in some locked up facility, or even better the end to a miserable existence.

Instead I will watch the lights. Those strange, bright twinkling stars of the earth, able to illuminate any night. Remie was that light for me on those lonely nights, the days when father would come home drunk off his mind and mother would come barreling in after him. But Remie would ignore them and come to my room, sometimes with scars on her face from working down in the pastures. And she would tell me these stories, about how the lights work in the world. How you only need a small spark to light a simple device and then BAM! there was a flood of vision that would cover the eyes. Light.

Mine isn't on. Why didn't I turn my light on? I didn't plan to sleep tonight. I had to think about things with Riker, Phyllis, and Lydie. The three of them were probably depending on someone or thinking that they could handle it themselves. Most likely Riker wasn't expecting me to have approached him that day. Thinking he might be better off without a brute like me. Or even Phyllis, who seemed so shy. She wouldn't have been one to approach a man before but now that she came toward us, a new world opened. But it must've been because of someone else. There was no way that my presence pulled her from the shadows that day toward our weak and fading light. It was Riker. I know it.

Then there was Lydie. She was the one who reminded me of Remie. Painfully. Why were the two of them so similar in the likes. Lydie came to us, not me coming to her. And I never had to go to Remie, but Remie would come to me. And her moments of affection were so similar. I remember a hug like the one we had together, but with Remie being the taller one and I the shorter. Remie would pull me close and I would just nuzzle into her. Smell her. Something like the scent of freshly squeezed lemons. It made my nose flair each time but the smell suited Remie. No one really liked her in District Ten. She was seen as the sour apple of the Winters family since. She would lose jobs on and off and could hardly focus on a task at hand. But she was there for me. Lydie was there for me, right?

No Damion, don't mix the two together. This was bad for me, not being able to establish reality with what is going on in my mind. The world can keep it's tricks if you asked me. Remember that no one here cares about the caring and forgiving element in society. We're all just shells filled with these processed emotions which we believe are real. We're not ones to feel love and affection for one another. All we need is to know that we're strong enough alone. Pity isn't a thing. Love never existed. All those frilly little girls want is a boy to protect them because they can't do it themselves. That's all a boys purpose is once romance exists.

But I can't get Remie out of my head. I run to the open room that District Ten has, get to the television and watch the replays of passed games. I look for the right one, the one Remie was in and watch the scenes over and over again.

Remie dying.

Remie dying.

REMIE DYING

My fingers are digging into the couch, pulling the fabric each and every which way as I replay the image over and over. Watching her run into the cornucopia. She doesn't even seem to have a care or concern on her face. She's just running in grabbing what she can. The others haven't even noticed her yet. But then it happens. The boy from District Ten has noticed her. Maybe forgotten that both of them are of the same hair. And he raises the sword. Raises it high in the air. And she doesn't seem to care. Remie just stops in front of him, almost offering herself to him. She's mumbling something though. Something that the camera's didn't quite catch. I keep watching over and over trying to figure out what the hell she was saying to the boy from District Ten before it rained Remie's blood.

The couch is almost torn before I hear something breaking from a few feet away. Who the hell is breaking something when I am having a god damn meltdown. But that's an escape, something that is away from the entire interview. I can't keep thinking over who I am. I know who I am. I'm Damion Winters, brother of Remie Winters, and soon to be crowned victor of the 62nd Hunger Games. I need to know who though. If it's one of the capitol people being drunk or a damn Avox dropping a plate, then I don't give a damn. But if it's Lydie...

I get up, leaving the television on and walk toward her room. I open the room, keeping as quiet as I can and see her on the bed, cradling herself in what seems to be a crying fit. Perfect. I knew she had some emotional investment in the games. Being tied to something outside of this world will only make her weaker, and thus she needs to let it all go. Like me. There is no use in worrying over what will happen when we die in the end, that is if we do. So what is it that has her so god damn upset in the middle of the night?

“What's wrong?” I say loud and stern. I have to keep up the image.

What the hell was wrong with her? I know I spoke loud enough to have her hear me, or maybe she's just tuning out the world. Not a bad reaction if I do say so myself. Who wants to keep the world in when you know it's all against you. That's what this is about, right? I'm sure many before have acted out like she had. Maybe even Remie. Not many can really handle the fact that they just might die in the coming days, or that they will have to kill others in the games. Just for a chance to live. It's so beautiful that it breaks the soul. But mine is already broken, no mirror to stare into. I have no problem snapping someone's neck, or making them suffer for thinking they could best me.

But what the hell am I supposed to be doing with a girl who is crying, right in front of me. I don't think I've ever let a tear fall from my face. I know my parents had when Remie died, it's what made them stop drinking in the first place, but instead I just had to sit and listen to the thoughts race through my head. Remie's dead. Remie's never coming back. Remie's been used. Remie was better than me. My parents would never cry if I went into the arena. They had completely ignored me. But Remie existed for them. Now they notice me, though, since Remie showed them how much they were missing. So now I have people caring for me. What would they have done if I had cried?

Mother would try to hold me close, Father wasn't really the thing for dealing with a hysterical woman. She would hold me close to her chest, make sure I was comfortable and that the nightmares were gone. The nightmares of Remie, where I'm holding her down by her throat, watching the life lift from her eyes. Remie would always be smiling too, telling me it was alright and that she was glad I was doing this for her. And mother would tell me that these things are just because we lost Remie, and that one day we would all get over the pain together. Remie, who was my anchor and chain to the world around me, struck down in an instance of blood, comforted away by the single notion of my parents holding me. I hated them for it too. Nothing would get better. I am always haunted by Remie.

But would that help a regular person, to feel the comfort of another person next to them in their time of need. I remember Remie being that kind of person for me, staying up late at nights while I slept, watching me sleep till mother and father stumbled in. I just wanted her to be the one thing in my life to stay constant and now she was gone. Why was she gone?

I start to walk over and notice a picture has fallen from her hands, nearby. It was of a small girl, or at least smaller than Lydie was, but resembled her in some form. So Lydie is just like Remie then, huh? She is hoping to get back to a younger sibling but is coming to terms with the fact that she may never make it back. It's a hard realization, I'm sure. But I can't even begin to fathom the torment that must be building in her. Torment? What a funny word. I've never used it for something like this.

“Who's this?” I ask, my voice calmer than before.