A Letter On My Doorstep [Deimos Standalone]

The peacekeepers had taken me into the Justice building, given me a room to sit and wait for my family or friends to say good-bye to me and exited to stand guard at my door. The problem was, I didn't have any friends or family that would visit so I would have to sit here until Yaa was done saying good-bye to her loved ones before I could do anything again. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, though, it gave me plenty of time to think and right now my thoughts were swamping my brain. Ideas, perceptions, logic, hopes; they all sloshed around my head like it was an angry ocean between my ears instead of a brain. My anxieties from before were nowhere near gone, but at least I didn't feel like throwing up anymore. Calm was in my grasp, enough to keep a grip on myself and hold my feelings inside so no one would know. I felt like my eyes would give me away though, deer-in-the-headlights look backed by fears and despairs, and I didn't want to be like an open book when I began meeting people who would tear my pages to shreds with no second thought.

I wished for my guitar, or my whittling, anything really as long as it would give my hands something to do so I wouldn't have to sit here in silence without moving. I wasn't a pacer, so I didn't get up and walk about like some people might, I also wasn't in the habit of tugging my shirt as though it was constantly askew as I had seen others do. What I did when I was bored, or nervous, was fiddle. I would find something - a pencil, a block of wood, some object or other - and take it in my hands to twirl it or roll it between my palms. Unfortunately, nothing here was something I could really fiddle with - the cushions too large with no smaller objects around - so I just traced circles on the arm of the chair I sat in, counting away each second as I did so.

My head was still buzzing, and I was only now starting to come out of the numbness that had overtaken me at the Reaping. I shut my eyes as the feelings started to come back - fear, excitement, anxiety, anger - and my head became a whirlwind of crazed emotions. I had to try and organize myself, pick up the pieces of the chaos and put it into sensible order. If I let myself sit in this unwound state I would end up slowly going mad, and that was not a fate I wanted to subject myself to. In the middle of sorting myself out there was a knock at my door, breaking my concentration but thankfully not sending my mind into a flurry again. Confused - why would anyone come to see me let alone knock - I got up and went over to the door, pulling it open to see one of the peacekeepers that were guarding my door standing there. I blinked, looking into his face and waiting for him to explain. Was I about to be sent to the train that would take me hundreds of miles closer to my doom? No, it seemed I wasn't. Instead of being whisked away to the Capitol, I was handed a folded note. When I took the paper I felt that something was pinched between the two sides.

Not wanting the peacekeeper to see the note, though I'm sure he had already read it and seen what the thing that was hidden inside of it was, I stepped back into the room and let the door shut. My brain puzzled by the idea someone wanted to send me a note, I unfolded the paper. The thing that had been inside of the note fell out and I caught it quickly, but I was too busy looking at what the note said to find out what was in my hand. The writing wasn't familiar, but I wasn't used to reading letters or any hand written note since I generally stayed away from people, so I read through it not knowing who sent it until I finished. It wasn't very long, but it still managed to bring a smile to my face and I had to fight my watering eyes from actually crying.

Hey Princess,
just thought I'd give you something to remember me by while you're in the arena. It'll make me feel like I'm important to you. Good luck in there.

- Joey

P.S. If you lose your mind, try to at least keep the part with me in it.

Joey, the goof, of course it had been him. There was no one else I had known well enough to care that I was a tribute, except this guy. I did have a friend, even if he hadn't come to actually see me off. Joey was odd in ways, but this note certainly meant a lot to me. It was only after reading it through a second time that I remembered I had something in my hand. I looked down, opening my fist to reveal the thing that lay in my palm. There sat a guitar pick, it looked to be either new or little used and it was a very pretty shade of blue. It reminded me of lakes that I had seen in images, places not inside the District or that had existed years and years ago but were gone now. Water, I thought, amused, it's always water. At least the pick didn't terrify me, I knew it wasn't water and it wasn't wet so it didn't trigger my fear, otherwise that would have made for a interesting turn out over a gift. Still, since I hadn't told Joey about my fear I had the feeling that he had no idea what sentiment the colour had for me.

It was on a thin leather strap, a makeshift necklace that would hold up better than string, and I smirked at it. I wouldn't ever let go of this, it meant a lot that someone had given me a token to take into the Games. I lifted the pick and it's leather string to my neck, doing up the clasp behind my neck and let go, feeling the tiny weight of the pick hanging from my neck and sitting against my throat. It didn't hang all that far, though you couldn't call it a choker because it wasn't tight against my neck, but that was fine with me as it didn't offer an easy grip to anyone who might try to choke me with it. I gripped the pick in my fist, feeling the edges press against my palm in a way that almost hurt. I stared at the note again, reading for yet another time, too many times to keep track of, as I gently tugged and released the pick. I had something to fiddle with now, something to distract me for the rest of the time I would be sat here waiting for no one.

At least someone had come. Joey hadn't actually talked to me, but this note and this pick were enough. He hadn't forgotten about me, and now I certainly wouldn't forget about him. I folded the note again, stuffing it into my pants pocket as I went over to the chair I had sat in when I first got here and flopped into it. I barely had time to get comfortable in it when my door opened and the peacekeeper entered. I knew then it was time to go, time to walk down the hall and to the car that would take me to the train. I stood up, nodding to the peacekeeper and making my exit from the room, one hand toying with the pick that hung around my neck. My last memory of District seven was attached to this pick, and I'd be damned if I would lose it.