Catch 22 :: Willis {solo}

and glow, glow, melt and flow
eviscerate your fragile frame
and spill it out in the ragged floor
a thousand different versions of yourself

This cannot be happening. I don't want to die, Ripred.

I struggle to put one foot in front of the other, so I am practically dragged through the endless corridors of the Justice Building, my weight supported by the Peacekeepers either side of me. They hoist me up, hooking under my arms and lifting me effortlessly. Drones, just heartless Drones. I feel like cattle being taken to the slaughterhouse. I don't feel human any more. They've taken away my humanity. I am shaking so badly, a horrific combination of fear and my tremors, but the Drones say nothing to me. They are used to cowering Tributes, of course. This means nothing to them.

The faces of previous Tributes are framed on the walls around me: Jango Graves, Alikia Lombrary - faces from my childhood, who seemed fictional to me. It was all fictional until the reality of it hit me. I see Cyrus Malloc, a hero in his own right, who looked like he could win it at one stage. I see Theseus Rhodium and poor Naveen Casovnik, one died so early, and the other suffered for days on end. Then I see the twins, and something ignites inside of me. Anger, yes. They did this to me, they broke my mind and made me a trembling wreck for three years. I don't want to hate them, but I do. I really, really do.

I'm thrown into a room on my own, where I am told to wait for ten minutes or so. I feel more relaxed when they leave, but it doesn't stop my hands from shaking uncontrollably. I think that, at this stage, I have accepted it. I have been Reaped, and as surreal as that may seem, there is nothing that can be done. All that's left to do is die. All these moments, all these Reapings that happen every year, they're lost in time. They're forgotten as quickly as they happen. District Six hasn't had a Victor in living memory, and let's be honest, my odds aren't exactly great. What qualities do I have that will keep me alive? None. Playing darts and getting drunk will not keep me alive. I suppose raw determination and instinct is an advantage, but doesn't everyone feel like that? No one wants to die, and so it isn't an advantage.

There is no alcohol in the room, unfortunately. I doubt I'll be able to get ahold of any ever again. I'm going to die sober - That scares me more than anything else. I'll never touch a drop of alcohol again. I start to swear under my breath as I pace the room, trying to stimulate my body and flush out the tremors. Yeah, like that ever works. I'm going to die, I've got nothing, I'm going to die. What's more is that not one damn Keeni comes to see me. No one comes for Willis, no one CARES for Willis. I hate them all, because they don't care. The only one of them who potentially liked me was Insanis, but he probably won't grieve over my loss. He's not the type. I'm gone from their lives and they don't care. Sometimes I wish I was born into a different family. Outcast by my parents, now outcast by them. No one cares about me, and I'm going to die unloved. Even more frustratingly, I have to accept that fact, because there's no whiskey to drown it away.

We're all moments in history. I've seen the surface of such moments, framed in gold all down the Justice Building hallway, but there's so much I don't know about those who came before me. They all stood in this very room and had similar thoughts, I bet, and it didn't do any of them any good. Sure, Pyrian and Gypsy almost went the whole ten yards, but it wasn't enough, was it? They were sick in the head, too. I'm no different to the ghosts of District Six, and that will make me one of them. My tremors set me apart, but they're a disadvantage more than anything. Here's the funny part: If I didn't have the tremors I'd probably be Darts Champion of Panem, playing in the Capitol. I wouldn't have to have ever been in the Reaping. I would have got Capitol citizenship, and all of this would be nothing but a bad dream.

But I do have the shakes, and only sweet liquor can banish them away.

I'm talented beyond comparison - Unrivalled accuracy and wit, but only when drunk. Catch 22. I'm going to die.

see, those unrepenting buzzards want your life
and they got no right
as sure as you have eyes
they got no right


((solo thread, willis accepting his death))