Eva Crest::D4::DONE

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Water laps at my ankles as my eyes gaze out into the ocean that spreads out before me. I smile, clutching the board in my hand tighter as I march through the surging water and out into the ocean beyond. I watch as the sun’s rays begin to peak over the horizon, painting the ocean gold. The smile on my lips grows bigger, and I quicken my pace, eager to be out on the ocean, surfing the waves that my parents had once. My smile falters for a moment as I remember my parents. They used to be out here on the waves every morning. They used to be the best surfers I knew…. used to be is the key words here. They have changed, changed so much that it is hard to even believe that one time, so long ago, they used to be the people I loved, the people that I had looked up too. But things have changed… And so have I.

I close my eyes for a moment, forming an image of the ocean, and in the distance two people surfing, clinging to their boards, smiles that spreads from ear to ear plastered on their faces as they gaze at one another across the waves that separate them. That is what I used to see. That is what I dream of seeing. I dream of seeing my parents back in the ocean, living their lives how they use too. Not locked away in the house. Ever since a Benji’s life was stolen, they refused to get back into the ocean, fearing that their life would be taken too, by a hungry shark. If they knew I was here now… well they would lock me away in my room, ban me for life. They forbade me to eve go near the ocean. But I was not going to stop doing something I loved because they told me I couldn’t. Begin in the ocean brings me closer, closer to Benji. I know it sounds ridiculous, but sometimes when I am surfing, I imagine him next to me, his smiling gaze staring into mine as we crashed through the waves together.

He had loved the ocean, and all the creatures that called it there home… there was no way in hell that he would ever want his family to leave the ocean. There was no way in hell that he would ever want ma and pa to stop surfing. He loved to watch them surfing, loved to watch the perfection of their moved, or the elegance of their bodies as the manoeuvred around on their boards. He had not been much of a surfer himself… But that didn’t matter to him. The ocean had been the only place where he had felt safe, safe wrapped in the arms of the surging mass of liquid.

The water was now lapping at my waist as I swiftly leap onto my board. The cool plastic of the surface pressed against my stomach as I used my arms to paddle out further into the ocean. The water was cool against my skin, and a smile plays on my lips as I move further and further away from the shore, away from the things that will try and hold me back. I take one look over my shoulder, back at the place I call my home. It looks so small from out here. So small, so vulnerable. I pause, moving into a sitting position on the board which keeps me a float. I have always been jealous of the ocean. Jealous of the way it was so free, so unpredictable. I have been told that I am very unpredictable, very impulsive. I do things without any notice, things that make people stare at me, and questions like: “what on earth is that girl doing? Is she trying to kill herself?’’ or “Look at the girl, one day she is going to be caught, one day she won’t find it funny.” These etched on their faces as I fly past them, doing things that were totally frown up on by most people.

I didn’t want to be like everyone else, fearing for their lives, shit scared of the Capitol. I didn’t want to be that. I wanted to be me own person. To be free. No one controlled me. I controlled myself. I decided my actions, they were not laced with the capitols rules. I made my own path in life, one that was all full of fun and adventure. I was not your average 17 year old in the district. Other trained hard to become a career; they wanted to be in the games, to risk their lives for a spot light of glory. Yes, I was a career. I trained, but I did not by far obsess myself with knifes and pointy sticks. I practiced yeah, most nights, I played with some knife, throwing them at a dart board. Hitting each time. But to me, to me it was all just a joke, for fun. My real passions was the ocean. My real passion was surfing, to feeling the rush of adrenaline that would oar through me as I climbed onto a wave and rode it till the end, conquering what may have seemed impossible to others.

That’s what passion is. That’s what a life is. A life is not learning to use pointy sticks and sharp blades, that fun at times yeah, but that is not life, that is teaching yourself how to be killed. Only one out of so many people get to be in the games each year. What they do, it is a waste of time, and most of them won’t even get that chance of glory before they are thrown into adulthood. Why waste so much time and energy into an empty dream?

I like to have fun, going partying and all that type of Jazz. You only live once, so why not live life to the full. But by saying this, I am not the type of girl who sleeps around. Yes a kiss her and there is great fun, but to go all the way… well I’m not ready. I need to live life longer; there is just still so much to experience in life that can wait a little longer.

The gentle rocking of the waves bring me out of my thoughts and back into the presence. Taking a peak over my board into the ocean, I see a reflection staring back at me. A smile spreads across my lips, making the reflections thin lips spread wide into a smile. The reflection had piercing blue eyes which were filled with passion as it stared back up at me. I have always been told that my eyes represent the ocean, they were large and always filled with some type of emotion. I was like an open book, so easily read. Today, now., they were filled with passion and love, love for the ocean which surrounded me. I was in my element. I was in the ocean, where I most felt comfortable. freckles covered my face, everywhere there was a clear spot of skin a freckle would find itself a new home. I move my gaze over the fiery red hair of my reflection and my smile grows bigger. A fiery head for a fiery girl,I think to myself, reaching out with my hand to stroke the water. As soon as my fingers touched the surface the image disappeared leaving me staring into the deep green ocean.

I run my eyes down my body. I have always had long legs, just like my mother. I try to push my mother to the back of my thoughts. I did not need her in my mind now, not here, not in the only place where I was free from her. Pushing the thoughts to the back of my mind I distract myself by tracing the freckles which ran down my arms and legs. I smile at them, all thoughts about my mother gone. On my body there was much less freckles, they were scattered out, not clumped together. When I was little I used to make it my mission to try and count them all, place a small dot with a pen on the ones I had already counted. I only got to about 45 until I got bored and moved on to do something more fun, something worth my attention

Taking one last glace at the ocean I look up just in time to see a wave heading my way. Let’s get this party started , I think sliding onto the board, preparing myself for the wave which would soon he rolling upon me.


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