[taken by the u n k n o w n :: Mik & Drace & Flo]

]“Mik play with me! Please?” a small voice filters through me, shifting my thoughts from the presence to the past. I sit at an old table- my old kitchen table- my fingers playing with the rim of an old chipped mug. Steam rises from deep within the cup, warming the cool skin of my hand. I try to ignore the small desperate voice of my sister. Grief- stronger than anything I had felt before- swam through my body, filling me with a sense of despair and sadness. I knew what day it was, this day, the day where I sat at the table numb to my sisters pleas, only focused on the hurt that swirled within me was the day that I had lost my mother. I had felt like I was alone in this world. That everyone that I had loved was gone. At that time I hadn’t realised that I wasn’t alone. At the time I had truly believed that the all mighty man who created us wanted me to suffer, wanted me to live life as a broken person. That day was the day when I thought my life had come to an end.

I hadn’t realised that I wasn’t alone- I hadn’t realise that there was on person left worth fighting for.


“Mik, why are you ignoring me? Where is Mother? Will she be home soon?” That’s when I really heard her voice. It seemed like the first time in years that I had actually heard her voice- her small innocent voice. Of course she didn’t understand what was going on. How could she? She was only five for goodness sake. I had totally ignored her, left her to fight for herself- when all she wanted was someone attention. When all she had wanted was her mother to appear from behind the closed door of our home. how could I tell her? Tell her that mother was never coming home? How could I break that small heart? I couldn’t. So I didn’t tell her. I told her that mother was on a secret mission to rebel against the Capitol. You see my sister had hated the Capitol and everything it stood for. She had wanted it to burn to the ground she hated it. So when I told her what mother was ‘doing’ her face had lit up… she had been proud that our mother was leading a rebellion. Little did she know that our mother was being ready to be buried six feet under.

It broke my heart to lie to her like that, but it was better to break my own heart then to watch the heart of my sister break. She was the only person I had left in this world and I was going to protect her, shelter her from as much of the harsh truth as I could.


“Come any closer, either of you, and I'll fucking end you” The voice sliced through my thoughts. Shaking my head to clear my mind I get to my feet. Something wet slides down my cheek and it takes me a moment to realise that I had been crying. Wet trails of my tears were carved into my cheeks, tears for my sister, for my mother, for the life I used to lead. Hastily I wipe the tears away, but as soon as I wipe away the first few tears more begin to falls , until I am sobbing silently. My whole body shaking. I didn’t want to be here anymore. I missed my sister. I missed my mother, and my father. It had been too long. I wanted to see them, their smiling faces- their loving gaze… But no matter how hard I tried to summon their loving face I got nothing- nothing but an empty shell of the outline of the people that I used to call my family. Nothing but Faceless shells.

More tears fells from my eyes and I curl into a ball, tucking my knees beneath me as I hug myself, trying to bring comfort to myself. For so long I have dreamed of waking up seeing my mother at the end of my bed, or my sisters cheeky gaze as she tried to pull my blanket away from me. I have dreamed so many times that once I nearly believed that this life I was living was a nightmare and that the dreams I was having were my life… But each time I would wake up again and the pain would cut me again- opening the wounds that barely had a chance to heal.

When would I see them again? When would I be able to look into their eyes, touch their arms, feel their embrace. Maybe sooner than later. I knew the answer to my question. Death was the answer. Death would allow me to be surrounded by the people I loved once again… But to die meant pain- something that I did not want to go through. It was not exactly death that I was afraid of- but more of the pain, or of the unknown that I would be thrown into… But maybe, just maybe I was ready. Maybe I was ready to die, maybe I was ready to find my family- to be with them once again.

“Oh and here come the mighty ol- sorry what was your name again?” Clearing my throat a wipe away the remainder of my tears, (tears were not going to help me now), my voice turning from husky to ice cold, laced with sarcasm. I straighten up and walk towards the sound of the boys words, causally slinging my hand into the hilt of my sword. “Come to finish me of have ya?” My voice is harsh as I come closer to the boy. “Oh are you on your own? Where are your little friends? They let you go? Have they let you go to die on your own? Well, that’s not very nice of them, is it? Maybe I should do them a favour and finish you off now- but I would hate to help you or your little friends out. So instead”- my voice suddenly changes, sliding from harsh and sarcastic to formal and mocking- “I shall let you live. But let it be known that the all might Mikhail Ivashkov is not a knob, be is dangerous. I may look all soft and cuddly in the outside. But on the inside I am sharp and ruthless. You make one wrong move and I may just let my sword- ah- slip into the soft skin of your neck. I have done it once. I will do it again.” The last words fall from my lips and I am not completely sure it is a lie. If it came down to it I would probably fight back- my death ticket is not due for a few more days, one at least.


“Now, to recollect on your earlier threat. Come at me bitch.” Flinging my hand out between the two of us I wait for him to grab hold, a mischievous smile playing at the edges of my lips. This was war- and I was going to win. “I challenge you to a thumb war, and may the best thumb win.”

[Drace boils Miks water]
[Mik drinks purified water]

I don’t know when it all turned around, when I started to think about things that, to the normal person, would sound slightly insane. But I did know that I wasn’t okay. My mind felt as though it was all over the place all at once. At one moment I felt like all I wanted to do was curl into a ball, and cry until no more tears would falls, but then at another moment I felt as though I was this person who was totally invincible, I felt as though I could take on the world and still out of it alive. But then on the other side of that…. I felt like a boy again, a boy who didn’t know what was going on. A boy who was lost and scared, in this world where things were so unpredictable, where things were so unexpected... so dangerous.

Now- standing in front of this boy, the one whose name was Drace. I felt like I was a boy again. I felt like a was a child, about to open something exciting for their birthday. It had been so many days- two weeks even, since I had found the energy to do something fun. To do something totally out of this world. Something that might bring a smile- a genuine smile- to this face of mine which seemed to permanently have a scowl or turned down lips. I was sick of feeling as though my life was worthless, I was tired of feeling like my whole life was just another thing for the Capitol to manipulate and shape. But did it really matter how tired I was of the Capitol? My life was in their hands- at any moment they could kill me off. But they haven’t, they have decided to let me live- suffer- a little longer.

My hand hovers in the air that separates us, the mischievous smile that played on my lips faltering, as the time drags out. Was he really going to reject me? He has to trust you first I remind myself, silently cursing some of the harsh words that I had let slip through my lips. Way to earn some trust. Good one Mik. I am about to let my hand drop to my side when Drace moves, sliding his hand into mine- but not in the way I had intended. His hand slips into mine, his strong fingers closing around my hand in a greeting, rather than the stance for battle. Something moves in the pit of my stomach and it takes me a moment to recognise it. Disappointment. It had been so long since I had been looking forward to something- it had been so long since I had felt the need to let my body relax and engage in some sort if activity that might be reargued as fun.

My disappointment ran further than to the point where the escort stood on the stage- back home- and called my name. It ran all the way back to when my life started to fall apart, to the point where I started to lose one loved one at a time… but could I hardly blame this boy? Was it really his fault that he didn’t want to have some fun? He was probably as scared as me… he was probably as shaken up as me, maybe he was just handling it better. Dropping my hand I let my eyes meet his. He was tall, his dark hair falling across his forehead was swept to one side. I wish I had hair as tame as that. For many years I have hated my hair and the way it always seemed untamed and wild- especially here in the arena- it gave me some sort of cave man look. I looked like a feral child- someone who should be locked away in an asylum for the insane.

"Hope a hand shake will do. What's your name again, killer?" I take a moment to let his question settle in, wandering if it was worth letting this boy in on that information. For the whole games I had tried to avoid getting to know people, avoiding people meant it would be easier when it came to stealing away their most precious gift. But was it really time to start thinking about what would make it easier in here? wasn’t I already past the point of really believing that life would get any easier? I knew I was going to die. I knew I would never be able to make it out of here- even if I did, I had nothing back home.

“Mik. Mikhail.” I say, “Mikhail and don’t forget it, it might be the last thing you hear.” Of course. Of course my sharp little tongue had to add something totally unacceptable to finish it off. I was really going to gain his trust now. “You know, I wish I had your hair. If I had your hair do you think I would look less feral? I never wanted to have this hair that made me look like a caveman. All my life I wanted hair that was tameable… “ It takes me a moment to realise that I had just spoken out loud. Embarrassed I summon a scowl onto my face. “To be honest I think you would look better without a head. You know- then I wouldn’t have to see that hideous pimple forming on your nose. You know what my home district would have called you- if they saw that pimple forming on your face- Puss King. It may not sound so offensive now… but I must say if you were surrounded by people chanting to you… you would be scared.” What was I even talking about? Since when did people at home chant ‘puss king’ when they saw that another had a pimple? Maybe I truly was insane.

“Look. If you win the thumb war, I’ll give you something. Something that you need… like… My gloves. If you win then you have the right to boast about it and them stripe me of my pride and joy- my gloves. Deal?”