brave and afraid {rave+dreams}

My legs are too shaky to get up and my mind is racing too far ahead to stay right here and now. My breath is heavy with fear and I'm dancing between reality and the nightmares, like a side of the river that's burning hot and the other freezing cold. Darkness, then the gloomy glow that always illuminates the hospital. I roll over on my back and my blue eyes try to focus on the boy. His face looks familiar. "Oh man, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry." His voice does to. I know that his name is swimming around somewhere in my screwed up mind, and I don't feel like fetching the fishing pole to get it out again. He's a blur, then he's clear, then he's a blur and then and then. But he's not a monster, I'm grateful for that.

I shake my head because I don't know if this is real, I don't know if this is still in my dreams or if I'm awake. His face seems to flicker, like he didn't even exist. Dark masks appear over in his face and small screams escape me every time they flash on. I here Skye's wail. I feel the brick with dried blood under my fingers. I see that look in her eyes, pleading for me to go. I didn't want to, but I did. I heard pounding footsteps, or maybe it was my heart. I find myself rocking up and down with my fingers dug into my hair.

"Run! Go! Run, Eva! EVA! EVA GET BACK HERE! EVA WE WILL KILL YOUR SISTER, Eva! Be brave! Be strong! It's ok to be scare--GO!" The voices ended with a scream.

I suddenly break out of my daze, my calm hazy conscious before I truly wake up. I bolt straight up and I look around frantically. "Don't hurt me, don't hurt me!" I cried, panting. And then I saw the boy again, and it felt like deja vu. My respiration slowed to a soft stop, and I gently get back. I stare at him as if I forget something and then I look down. "Sorry, it's just, I- Um... Nightmares." I stuttered. I get up from the rough floor. I hug myself because I need it and I never get any. I'm still trembling when I'm standing up. This boy is slightly larger than me. I blow the hair out my face and shake like I was outside in summer clothing. But this time the coldness if fear. How many times do I have to relive this nightmare? How many times? Please let it stop soon. Please let these day be numbered.

It's amazing, really, how once can change in a matter of hours. Skye did. She turned from the overprotective nervous girl I've known all of my life to the slightly more carefree one that existed for only a few days. Strange, how when we were away from our horrid parents, she seemed so much less pained. She seemed so happy, we danced around in the night to the cricket song with the moonlight to illuminate our faces. We lived the life we never had. I lived the life I never will have. She never showed any signs of being shattered to the emotional limit anymore. No more breakdowns. She was what she was meant to be. She was too much of an angel to feel broken. As for me? I'm too broken to be an angel.

Getting up felt so much better than me on the floor. It as hard and reminded me of the beds that I used to fall asleep on. Surprisingly, they are worse than the ones I currently doze off in. I look at the boy closer this time. Blue eyes, just like mine, I think. A messy mop of dark hair sits upon his head and he seems my age, maybe off by a year of so. Nothing strikes me that much about him, as nothing striking is on me. Maybe that I'm a tiny bit thinner than him ( oh that sounds so rude ), but nothing else. I remember my mother describing me, and it was rather hurtful, even though I probably shouldn't have minded because she said and did a lot more other hurtful things. "As plain as a stick, as thin as a stick, as common as a stick. Plain Evangeline."

"Don't worry, I have nightmares too. Well, they aren't par·tic·u·lar·ly nightmares, the nurses say they are these things called Night Terrors that happen during some type of sleep levels." I snap back to attention, nearly forgetting he is actually here. Is he? Could he be apart of my imagination? No, I don't hallucinate. I dream. Or so I hope so, I suppose. Then again, is this life a dream? Oh, I don't have time to think about this. I nod at him, even though I don't see how nightmares and Night Terrors differ. But nightmares sounds a lot more appealing than the latter. The only thing that really matters to me is what happens. And 'terrors' doesn't seem so wonderful. He puts his face close to mine and drops his voice to a whisper. Classified information, I assume, is being said. Maybe. I've never been good at reading social cues. But Skye did it to me, so I could only infer...

"I also have a speech impediment but I don't like to, sorry, rambling. My name is Rasmus, but you can call my Rasmus." I pretend not to notice the latter mess up in his words because I am not one to judge. There are a lot of things wrong with me, and I'd be quite the hypocrite to correct me. Ripred, if someone got a coin for every time I messed up, they'd be richer than anyone and everyone in the Capitol. Even Snow himself. Gross, disgusting Snow. Sending kids to die in an arena. Ugh, I'm getting off topic again.

"Helllo, Rasmus. It's quite alright, I don't mind much. I'm Evangeline. But you can call me Eva because my real name is a big mouthful." I reply back softly. Evangeline... I like my name. To me, it seems to have an elegance to it, an airy and light feeling as it rolls off my tongue. It seems to match me perfectly. Mysterious, complicated, graceful. It belonged to an angel, perhaps. But I'm too broken to be an angel. Call me Skye, because my sister deserves my name more than me. I'm willing to give up my beautiful name. It will never match up or pay the debt, however, of all the things my angel of a sister gave up for me. Forgive me, sister. One day, I will make sure you did not die in vain for me. One day, I will make you proud.