what do you want from me? (arc + mattio)

marcellus rhodes 11b arc
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what do you want from me? (arc + mattio) Feb 14, 2015 20:40:23 GMT -5

Post by marcellus rhodes 11b arc on Feb 14, 2015 20:40:23 GMT -5

the sound of a beating heartbeat, the thought of him being gone for almost a year by now makes it sick. he should have gone home. he should still be breathing. Not some girl from five. (he's gone and i swear the heartbeat that i hear day after day belongs to him and its starting to drive me insane.) one, the blade in my right hand makes connection to my wrist, creating a masterpiece that only i could appreciate, rewarded with tears that run down my face. it's just art, so why does it hurt so much?

i can only imagine how many times people have considered talking to me, most of them too scared to see me with the bloodshot eyes that always dance on my face with pure happiness. are my eyes so red because it's the color of what spilled out the day he died and every day since as the scars representing each day he's not here and every other representing how stupid i am for not taking his place so he didn't have to die.

two, flesh and metal meet yet once again, battling for the rightful dam that will break sooner or later revealing a beautiful scarlet colour that seems to fill my mind and dreams every day now.

i almost find it funny how death is so scary to people anymore, it'll happen to them sooner or later, right? those who don't get sent into that horrid place that will have scarlet red dancing all over the arena without any hesitations just get a longer chance at life, it means that they're safe but still are going to die, just not as young as some of them in the games had.

what if i just ended it now? he is waiting for me to join him in a place where we can both run through the lawn and be careless about the world. he is, he's standing at the gates of heaven waiting for that young friend to run through the fields with. he's waiting for me

i don't care anymore about what they think of the boy who is so heartbroken about losing his ~~brother~~ best friend in the whole entire country of panem. (his heart is beating. i can feel it, i can hear the occasional thump of a heart that's not mine) and i swear he is in the room with me, he's just sleeping.

three. the blade cuts across my wrist one more time and the moan of pain falling from my mouth is completely unreal it feels like jello. my scream pierced the entire house, not really meaning anything to the others but to me it means payback for his death.

i don't want to spend any more time in my puddle of blood longer than i have to, so as the hooded sweatshirt had been pulled over my head, i was out the door.

it was cold. that wasn't a surprise as it was winter, but i was shivering so much i couldn't even see straight. everything i saw in front of me represented him and nobody else. the dead rose bushes was his heart and brain, dead and wilting. the snow that decorated the ground in front was his heart; freezing inside the coffin made for specifically him. that didn't stop me from walking. the tears of pain streamed down my face as i walked with the head belonging to me down, unaware of any passing people. all i could hear was the familiar thump of a heart that was not mine, but someone who's grown into a monster.

MATTIO
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what do you want from me? (arc + mattio) Feb 14, 2015 22:13:14 GMT -5

Post by MATTIO on Feb 14, 2015 22:13:14 GMT -5

It’s been a long time since I’ve been out and about. Mother always told me to stay inside where it was warm, because it is cold outside, and it sure was. I don’t know why they always ask me to go and run their ‘errands’ for them in the frigid streets. It isn’t like its freezing cold outside and I’m not really in.. how would you call it... appropriate clothing? Maybe that was the word for it. They had rushed me out of the house with only a light sweatshirt and warm pants. Even then it was still making my hair spike up all around. The dots on my arm were not from a feeling of coldness; however, they were a feeling of insecurity. I never liked going outside alone. It always made me feel too vulnerable to the world.

I try not to look at the dark and sad faces as I walk. It’s not that difficult because of the wind blowing in my direction, I can hardly look up. I look at the list father gave me as he rushed me out of the door earlier. It’s all junk that they wanted, and it would be a waste of time. In a matter of days they’d ignore whatever they bought. The wind brushes up against my unguarded forehead and flows around my head, waking my whole face up from thoughts.

I begin to kick a small pebble as I go, hoping that I don’t look track of it or that it blows away. The little pebble makes me feel so large, so strong- but that’s not who I am. I’m just a poor kid in District Three is what the people in school used to say. Mother and father told me something different, but I know they were just trying to make me feel better. I know the truth now… I’m not some uptight person whose father is a great inventor. My parents just work at a factory supplying the praised inventors with their creations. Kyan and Maia Manor are too normal to be special, and that’s what I am, too. Too normal to turn into anything great; anything that people will see as good, useful, or intelligent. I’m just a small-town teen, and I think that is who I’ll always be.

I try to look up, and I do. All I see are people living totally normal lives, just like me. They’re all mostly middle-aged or older, and then to the left three little kids playing some kind of game. I notice then that I never played games, not with anyone but my head. Back when I was little, I played games in my dreams, where everyone got along and nobody grew up.
Too bad that isn’t reality.

I keep walking until I physically couldn’t. I look back up, to see who I had bumped into. The boy or man was pretty tall, and to see his face I had to look up at him. I can’t see the rest of him, but I know that he is exactly the kind of person I wanted to stay away from. The male looked somewhat familiar, but it was hard to exactly remember from where.

I say something… the first word that comes out of my mouth, “Sorry.”

marcellus rhodes 11b arc
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what do you want from me? (arc + mattio) Feb 15, 2015 8:54:54 GMT -5

Post by marcellus rhodes 11b arc on Feb 15, 2015 8:54:54 GMT -5

i looked up at him, careless of the waterfall that is on my face and study him. he's a little bit taller than myself but he is probably just as skinny as me from what i see. my eyes are still bloodshot, i know that now from the tears that seem to be of pain when they're supposed to be of joy of the wonderful piece of art that i can say is mine.

thump, thump. there's the familiar heartbeat of him that never wants to leave my mind. the heartbeat of kia and i don't even know if its real or not by now because it's driving me insane so much.

his heartbeat is slow, yet constant almost as if he is trying to say he is alive; he's obviously alive somewhere. i have to assume that because who's heartbeat would that be? i don't know either if i should be crying or talking, but the heartbeat of him is taking the thought of speaking out of the subject.

i want to speak, i want to, i want to speak with the boy in front of me however i just can't. the way he looked at me made me feel insecure, leading to not even wanting to speak any more than i don't want to. he seemed to look at me closely, maybe thinking i was familiar looking? that might be it, though he didn't seem familiar to me which made it confusing. i look nothing like him so why did i look familiar?

i didn't even show my full face at the victory tour. i had my face down the whole entire time, making sure nobody saw me as nobody would like to see such a disgusting masterpiece as me.

i cringe and let out a whimper as a pain slithered in and out of my body as the wounds i have left are still there. i don't know if the man cares, and i don't really want to seem rude, so my lips speak words that only sound like mumbles, though i could care less, it's one more piece of artwork for me to create.

the words seem so ancient yet they seem so close to him. i am not trying to overreact what i am trying to say how old the words sound, how long its been that i've heard.

my voice seems hoarse and strained as the only thing that i can feel is the searing pain that is only known as my artwork.

the words i say are not angered for once, they're reassuring.

"it's okay."but i know its not. it's not okay. ~~it's never okay~~

MATTIO
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what do you want from me? (arc + mattio) Feb 23, 2015 20:02:47 GMT -5

Post by MATTIO on Feb 23, 2015 20:02:47 GMT -5

I find it odd when I hear him wince in some kind of pain. At first, I'm concerned I might have really hurt him, but his words make me feel better. its okay. I hear him say, making a smile appear on my face. He's a bit scary in comparison to anyone I've met before.

I begin to look at his hood, he looks as if he's not wanted to be disturbed, but I speak up again anyways. I've never tried to engage in a conversation, but this seems different. He seems hurt. I look at his face. "You sure? I just walked face first into you and didn't stop.." I try not to act scared of him, but deep down I fear the face. It feels familiar to my brain, but I can't register it. Was he in school with me, maybe he had to leave for awhile. I can't recall it, but I feel as if its possible.

I wipe the germs I feel as if he gave me off on my sleeves, off of my dark shirt. It seems awkward staring at him, but I can't fear him. I've feared so many people in my life, and this person wouldn't be any different. Nobody has been my friend since I had imaginary friends. Some people call me their peer or buddy, but I know they just try to make me feel better, but I can never feel better. I feel like asking him again, but my voice cracks as I try. The fear of standing in front of the person makes me feel sickened. He towers me in size, let alone build. This is the kind of person I feared. The lion was reaping upon their prey. I was the poor baby fawn trying to get around without any trouble.

Please don't give me any trouble, I'd rather not die. I can't die alone.. not in a corner. I'm scared. I'm lost. I'm silent. Don't kill me please. Even if I have nothing to live for, life is worth living..

marcellus rhodes 11b arc
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what do you want from me? (arc + mattio) Feb 24, 2015 7:46:21 GMT -5

Post by marcellus rhodes 11b arc on Feb 24, 2015 7:46:21 GMT -5

"You sure? I just walked face first into you and didn't stop.." the boy in front of me speaks, and i almost just wanted to yell then and there. i'm okay. i'm fine, i don't need or want anyone's help; i won't and can't trust someone anymore to help me because he still should be taking care of me, but he's gone somewhere that only the lucky enough will go. thump. thump. thump. the heartbeat of him rings through my ears to my brain, his laugh can be heard in my dreams, my head, and in my fairy tales. i can hear him speak, i can hear him laugh and command and i can hear him do lots of things, but i can't see a single thing he does. it feels as if we were playing hide and seek as kids, counting to ten and suddenly we can't find them because they've hidden, waiting to be found so it can be their turn. it's almost like that, but the game never ends. it's gotten to the point where the seeker has given up and doesn't bother trying to find them anymore. quite particularly, me. i notice that he is uncomfortable, and that i haven't answered yet, so softly (yet loud enough for him to hear,) my words formed.

"i'm fine." when the words are spoken, it feels almost as if they came out harshly. most likely because of the artwork streaming down my arm and leaving its imprint on my jacket. thump. thump. thump. the damn heartbeat keeps getting louder and louder, larger, and louder and i don't even know whose heartbeat it is anymore. insanity. that's what it is, i must 've going insane; probably am because the breaths of him and the beats of him are driving me insane because they aren't mine.

while i ran through the lawn with him i was free, careless and bubbly. almost as if the games weren't real and that i didn't know that the person who was my life and rock and stone was going to be taken away from me so quickly. it was fun to be a kid; more fun to know there was once a time i could see kia without the image of blood and weapons being sent at him before he could run.

thump. thump. the heartbeats got faster and faster, almost as if they were anticipating for something to happen, but all that was happening was the flood of blood coming out of my arm in a frenzy for freedom.

my rock and soul had got taken away almost as fast as he died, but the week before his death seemed shorter than the small amount of time he had spent in the arena. though after that, it was almost a breeze.

thump. thump. thump. it still got faster and faster; and I honestly don't know why. i am going insane. and someone is here to watch the entire event.

why are they? i don't even know. i won't know, and i'll never know.