Tous Les Même [Pixie and Zeki]

The future seems so cold. Bleak and white: an endless plain of absolutely nothing. I imagine that in a day or two from now I'll be dead, and death shall greet me by offering his warm and familiar hand which I will take with pleasure. Part of this great adventure that'll start in less than 24 hours frightens me, yet there is a fire burning deep inside that is screaming with excitement. 

I lie awake, my eyes pinned open as they scan every intricate detail in my surroundings. The clock that has woken me many a times in the past few weeks is blood red. The pasty blank walls looks cracked and lifeless and the little spoon which lays so close to my heart is frozen. As my eyes dart from piece to piece, I see things in a new light. In fact, it's not a light; it's shade. Everything is darker and has a less pleasant side now. It sends a shiver down my spine that is too familiar.

I close my eyes and reflect upon my two weeks in the Capitol. They've been hard. Everything that they've thrown at me has cut away and chipped the things I liked about myself completely off of my once innocent shell. They've changed me, for the worse, or for the better. Only time will tell whether or not the hours of training and listening to Patricia's eternal words were worth it. 

Part of me dies every time I think about the reaping. How could something so ugly have started in a place so beautiful? Home. I'd managed to successfully evade being reaped 5 times. In two years time, I wouldn't have to worry about it any more. My name wouldn't be in the exceedingly large glass bowl which decides your fate. What hurts the most is the thought that even if I die, my brother and my sister's names will still be in there. I'd trade my life for their safety and security in an instant if I had the chance.

Thinking about them ignites a spark in me that adds fuel to a roaring flame. It's makes me even hungrier for this and even more determined to make it as far as I possibly can just so that I can read them one last story. If I made it out of the arena alive, I'd tell them all about the shit I've been through. From the sparkling yet blinding lights of my interview to the little gold carriage clock that sits below the flat screen television on our floor. I can picture it now: everything is so clear and pristine in my mind and it makes me think it's reality. Am I predicting the future? No, there's no such thing as magic.

I think about my score. A five. The girl from five who got a five. Pixie Ruined: five. I wonder what the other tributes are thinking of me. They've only got that number to judge me on. I feel numb thinking about them all - they're probably doing what I'm doing right now: analysing every little spec of information taken in during the past two weeks. I hope some of them are sleeping. I hope some of them are sleeping, because some of them deserve it. 

I kick my sheets off from my limp body and pick myself out of the blank sheets. There's nothing on them - a gentle reminder that death is endless nothingness. I place my feet onto the floor and feel some dust sprinkle onto my soles. As I push off from the bed, my feet carry me towards the door that swiftly zips open to reveal my Capitol "home". 

It's dark. There's no lights on here, probably because everyone is asleep. The darkness bites me and plays upon the fact that darkness inside of homes scares me. I've always thought like that. although I suppose it's dark in here because it's a symbol that this place isn't home. I smile out of the blue, because I feel as if the Capitol knows me better than I know myself.

I look around me and move over to one of the windows. I'm startled and freeze in my step when I notice a shadow of a figure sitting on the window sill. It's Zeki. His silhouette is too familiar to me now, and I've only known him for two weeks. I stand behind him for a moment or two and follow his lead: staring out of the window into the buzz of the Capitol. I can understand his fascination, for even in the witching hour everything looks so alive. Lights of every colour imaginable dance before my eyes. I even notice a fountain, spitting up elegant lines of water into the air, capturing them as they quickly cascade back down into the depths of the azure water. It's all so perfect. Too perfect. 

"I wonder if they'll ever sympathise with the tributes. They have it easy." I find myself saying. I don't know whether my sentence was aimed directly at Zeki, or whether a thought slipped loosely out from between my impure lips.I hope it gives Zeki some food for thought.

I lower myself to sit next to him, exhaling a sigh as I do so. The window sill is cold and reminds me of the hardwood flooring in my bedroom.

Everything around us is so cold. Nothing sends a warm surge into my body, not even the food, nor the radiators or expensive jewellery. It's all frosty to my touch. I feel that at times, we are the only warmth.

"Maybe someday." Is Zeki's reply. I don't believe his words. They are spun with thread full of lies. Every tribute should know that the citizens of the Capitol are too ignorant to put themselves in someone's shoes. Especially shoes of people that are lower than them. Maybe someday. Yeah, right. And maybe someday I'll be the queen.

I sit and stare out of the window and look further past the glass that divides me from the ruckus of the Capitol. Looking closely, I can see the outlines of individual people moving slowly down a cobbled path. They're taking all the time they need. They don't have to worry about coming face to face with a murderer, at least, not today. I think deeper and imagine that they'd be the type of people who would let their children watch the games. I feel my stomach churn thinking about that.

My mother had the decency to ban me from watching the games until I was fifteen. I don't know whether my brother and sister will be able to watch me fight and die. I want them to see me, alive and in the flesh though, even if it be only for a few minutes, hours -- or even days. I hope mother can still put her foot down and not let them see what they've done to me. I don't want their last visions of me to be a cold hearted killer or the girl who was dead before the games started.

I turn my head and study Zeki. His face is tense, yet the rest of his body is relaxed. He's probably feeling how I am, maybe even worse. I imagine that he is the type to accept defeat before it's even happened. That's what is sad about the games; the fact they can get to a human and peel away every layer of their skin and then soak their body in salt water. I bet it hurts.

Eventually, Zeki opens his mouth. He doesn't look at me though - he remains focused on looking out with his empty eyes into the wonders of the Capitol.

"How are you feeling?"

How am I feeling? That's a silly question. I'm feeling everything he is and every emotion the other twenty-two of us are feeling. From passion to pride, and from anger to upset. Words won't be able to describe to Zeki what is racing around my body. Words won't be able to describe what's going on in my mind and words won't be able to describe what I'm feeling. 

I lift a hand from the cold sill and run it over my cheek. I feel the softness of my skin and close my eyes slowly. 

"I can't describe it to you, not even if I wanted to."

I pause and decide that I'll be honest with him. I feel as if over the time we've been here, a silent friendship has blossomed between us, even if we don't express the appropriate actions towards one another.

"There's a hunger burning inside of me that wants to reach out and take everything the games has to offer. Yet, the fire that burns so brightly is constantly being starved of the things it needs to stay alive."

I breathe.

"Friendship, reassurance, support. I need these things just like I did back in five, but I need them more."

I breathe again, feeling nervous as if I'm being interviewed with the entire population of the world watching me.

"I'm hungry Zeki, but I won't let it take over. I'm still Pixie Ruined from District Five."

Looking back at my answer, I feel as if I went off topic. Was he expecting an answer that was philosophical? Probably not, he was probably just trying to break the building tension between us. After all, he could be the one to end my life or worse; I could be the one to end his. 

The thought of not knowing is the worst. It hurts me and makes me feel as if each of my limbs are slowly being pulled away from my body. They are ripped from my body and I'm left weak and worthless. I hate it, I hate it and I hate it. Not knowing where I'll be in two weeks time just makes me want to end it all.

But I've dug too deep to escape now. There's no going back.

He takes my hand into his, and I try to stop myself from feeling. There's less than twenty-four hours until I enter the mess that is the bloodbath and I can't let anything pick away at me now. I won't let it. I'm better than this, yet Zeki's touch makes me feel more alive than ever. I forget that tomorrow is the start of the end, and I'm reminded that there are people who care. 

I look at him, my pupils focusing in to his, trying to read him effortlessly like turning the thin pages of a book. He's struggling to find words. I don't think he's ready for this. Anyone could tell just from looking at him that he's struggling to come to terms with the fact that this is how we live now. This is how we live: and it involves coming to terms with death.

"I know. Me too."

Suddenly, he takes my hand and surrounds it with the warmth that his provide. His touch is tangled with everything we've felt over the course of our two weeks here in the Capitol. something so dark has been us closer together and has provided us with a light when we so desperately needed it. The thought puts a public smile on my face, and I look to Zeki showing it off in all its glory. 

He returns the smile and offers me a weakened, more tired one. I understand what he's feeling and can't blame him for not having the effort and energy to prove he's worth his worth. I hope that by tomorrow he's recharged and has everything he needs in order to survive.

The thought of tomorrow's events makes me freeze. We'll have to try and eat breakfast and act like there's nothing wrong, but in reality, everything is wrong. We'll each stuff oatmeal into our mouths which will probably leap back into our throats numerous times during the duration of the bloodbath, let alone the whole of the games.

I squeeze his hands and feel the blood moves through his veins.

"During the wreck that tomorrow will hold for each of us, I won't hurt you."

I want to go on, but I feel like I've said too much already. But the words push against my lips and find themselves leaping out into open air for Zeki, and anyone else for that matter, to hear. My tone is hushed and I whisper close to his ear.

"If I see someone attack you, I'll do my best to protect you."

I can't tell whether I'll keep my words. I imagine it'll all be such a rush of adrenaline and nervousness. What if I can't see the face of who I'm attacking? What if I can't find my alliance members and I'm left stranded in the grounds of my killers? Stop it Pixie, stop it. Get these thoughts out of your thick head. Get into the right mindset like you have been before. Don't give it all up now. You can do it.

"We started this together, and we should start the beginning of the end that way too."

I start to wonder why we didn't ally with each other. It's too late to change everything now, but I want the reassurance of someone to fall back on if I can't find my network of protectors. We'd have worked well as a team. 

At least, so I think.

"I promise I won't hurt you either."

I can't tell whether I believe him. He says he won't hurt me, but his alliance might. I've seen them and they look dangerous. The piercing eyes of the girl from one, and the chiseled, skull-splitting face of the boy from twelve. I hope that he has a sense of dominance that will keep him alive, and keep his alliance from hurting mine. 

Talking about alliances makes me feel so alone. In all honesty, I don't really know who my allies are. Can the three girls really be trusted? Because I'm not sure. If they try anything on me, I won't be afraid to show them my worth. Touch me with your hands of violence and you won't make it back. Simple.

But thinking of the girls I'm allied with reminds me of my sister back home, back in five. I wonder how she's doing, and I wonder if mother has let her watch my journey at the Capitol. I wish I could see her and hold her in my arms one last time before I'm changed into a killer, or before I change into a body in a coffin. I shouldn't think negatively, but when the thoughts come, they're difficult to ignore. I can't throw them out as easily any more. It takes time, and it takes my effort.

"And don't promise to protect me, because there are people who you've already made an obligation to protect, yourself included. I can't promise you that I'll protect you. But I will promise you're in trouble during the bloodbath, and it's not out of my way, I will fight the person who's attacking you. I know that sounds cold, but it's the truth. And I know that it's the truth for you as well."

It takes me a while to absorb his words. I have to think over them, before I recieve the final blow and understand them. He's promising that he'd help me. Running that thought through the track in my mind, it feels nice. The security of someone who will help you is like a warm blanket in a winter night.

But then I realise that he tells me not to promise to protect him. It's understandable. He doesn't know what I'm capable of. Of course, I've pledged to protect myself - that's a given - but my alliance should be capable of protecting themselves just as well as I can do with myself. It's what they've had the training centre for. If they haven't used it wisely, then it's not my problem.

Then it hits me. Those words that slipped out of my mouth could've been taken in a hurtful way. Deep down, I'm not sure if Zeki can protect himself. Is that why I promised what I did? Surely, my heart hasn't become that plagued and diseased. But thinking it over in my mind reinforces the fact that I do think that. I saw what happened in the training centre. I've seen how he was with the weapons and skill stations. He got a fucking two to top it all off.

I feel sorry for him that he's been judged harshly by the Capitol, and me too. He's probably breaking down inside and I don't want me to be part of the reason he is. 

I remain sat next to him, his hands providing a warm atmosphere for my frosty palm. I look back out to the Capitol and hope that someone in the glorious city has it in their heart to sponsor me, my alliance and Zeki. To keep us alive and healthy, even if it is only for a few days.

I turn and look back to him. He's staring into my eyes. I wonder what he can see. Thankfully, there's no water cushioning them in this hour. I'm grateful that I've become stronger, yet I miss who I used to be. I hope he can see that when he's staring into my eyes.

"And I, too, intend to finish it the way it started, together."

"Together."

My words put an emphasis on the word and I realise that I'm showing a weakness. Together. All the words Zeki has said to me and I repeat 'together'. It makes me sound puny and little.

Everything I hope I've grown not to be.

A silence occurs that feels different from every other I've experienced. There is no stony touch to it, not now, instead, it feels tender and affectionate. I almost don't want to break it, yet I remember the significance that tomorrow holds.

For a moment or two, I'd forgotten about tomorrow. I'd forgotten about everything. If you removed the window glaring out over the Capitol and placed the two of us back in five, we'd look normal. We'd look like friends. I'm only reminded of the hardship that'll come in a few hours time when the silence introduces the ticking of the old carriage clock that sits on a dusty wooden ledge.

"What time is it?"

I ask, hoping that he knows. I don't know what time it was when I got up, at least, I can't remember now. It feels like hours have passed since we've been sat here enjoying each other's company. I wonder if anyone else has had trouble sleeping. They'd probably have headed back into their room after seeing our ghostly silhouettes.

My moves slides out of Zeki's grip and I place both my hands in my lap. I look down to them and observe them. They've become something different. There's no blood on them, yet, but the purity they once had has been ripped to shreds. I feel sick to the stomach to think that someone as pristine as Zeki has touched them. Touched them, and held them close. I hope that my taint isn't contagious. 

I begin to look behind me, noticing my door has swung open. The red light emitted via my digital clock has spilled out across the white sheets. It's a dark look and only reminds me more of what I've become. 

I think about what I was like on the train. Confused and bewildered. Rude, too. I told Patricia that my initial thoughts about her were wrong, and I stand by that message. But as I reflect, I notice that I've only become more like her. She was acting like stone in that carriage, and I find myself putting on the same act most days.

My eyes blink shut and in the split second in which the darkness takes over, I feel truly at home. I wonder if there is darkness in dying, or whether it's bright and hurts your eyes. I hope it's dark. Death should always be associated with the bad things. I don't believe that you "walk into a light" or any nonsense like that. Death should be dark because the dark can get to any type of person. Young or old, male or female. It's something each and every one of us all fears deep down. you just need to look for it.

Tick, tock, tick tock. It's that fucking carriage clock again. I bet it's been placed there specifically by the Capitol so that they make sure I know my time is running out. It seems that everything is painting a picture of the games, no matter what it be. It's either that, or I'm just being pessimistic. I'd prefer it to be the first, but I'm convinced it's the latter.

I turn to look at Zeki and stare him straight down the eye. My jaw clenches and everything just lets go. As I look past his eyes, I blink, slowly, just so that he knows I'm still with him. I always want him to know that. It sounds like something that would happen in a romance novel, and I have thinking like I am, but it's true. I just want him to feel reassured. I just want him to feel safe.

I want him to feel everything I'm not. Because without emotion, I'm barely human.