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fire and rain {viola and katelyn/VT}
Apr 22, 2015 12:25:59 GMT -5
Post by d4 tati pelotte [azalea] on Apr 22, 2015 12:25:59 GMT -5
V I O L A
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My voice remains dry and crackled. My words ran dry when I saw Pixie's life slip through her own fingers. Blood surrounding her, my eyes focused on watching her drown in a pool of red and-
It was just a dream, a nightmare. The memories of watching her die still haunt me to this day. Minutes, hours, days after her death, days after the victor was crowned. The vivid imagery still remains firmly stuck in a dark corner of my mind. It's like a disease with no cure.
Something that certainly won't be cured is the guilt. Katelyn Persimmon, a girl, no- a victor from District 11. To win, she had to fight. To be alive, she had to kill. I wonder if there is a pile of guilt on her shoulders from the people she had killed in the frosty arena. If I were here, I'd feel nothing. She did what she had to do, and by doing that, she killed my sister's murderer.
And for the most part, I feel an immense amount of pride. A killer of a murderer in the place I call home. The place Pixie called home. Yet, does her kill make it right? Chaske Parks was the son to a mother and father, perhaps a sibling, a student and a friend. He had a life ahead of him just like they all did. But inside me, hatred runs through my veins every time I picture his face, that moment, his name.
But alas, here we are now. My sister is dead so that she could survive. I won't complain because I understand how the games work. They only want one victor.
So, here I stand. An outsider with inside knowledge. Staring at the Persimmon girl who has her future handed to her on a plate. Yet the food on the china is cold and solid, drained of the juices which bring the flavours alive on your tongue. It's plain and boring.
I feel for her.
I blink and I find myself at the front of the assembled crowd, peacekeepers within a reach of my hand. The silence is so violent, I can hear the beat of my heart and every breath our new victor takes. The atmosphere surrounding her feels so fantastical. I inhale part of the air and I can feel it blossom in my lungs - the feeling is so pure and untouchable.
I exhale and-
"Thank you, Katelyn Persimmon."
I breathe these words in the silence before the beginning of her speech. Suddenly, I sense the eyes of everyone gathered flicker onto me and the steel girl I thought I'd become effortlessly transforms into a vulnerable scribble.
It was just a dream, a nightmare. The memories of watching her die still haunt me to this day. Minutes, hours, days after her death, days after the victor was crowned. The vivid imagery still remains firmly stuck in a dark corner of my mind. It's like a disease with no cure.
Something that certainly won't be cured is the guilt. Katelyn Persimmon, a girl, no- a victor from District 11. To win, she had to fight. To be alive, she had to kill. I wonder if there is a pile of guilt on her shoulders from the people she had killed in the frosty arena. If I were here, I'd feel nothing. She did what she had to do, and by doing that, she killed my sister's murderer.
And for the most part, I feel an immense amount of pride. A killer of a murderer in the place I call home. The place Pixie called home. Yet, does her kill make it right? Chaske Parks was the son to a mother and father, perhaps a sibling, a student and a friend. He had a life ahead of him just like they all did. But inside me, hatred runs through my veins every time I picture his face, that moment, his name.
But alas, here we are now. My sister is dead so that she could survive. I won't complain because I understand how the games work. They only want one victor.
So, here I stand. An outsider with inside knowledge. Staring at the Persimmon girl who has her future handed to her on a plate. Yet the food on the china is cold and solid, drained of the juices which bring the flavours alive on your tongue. It's plain and boring.
I feel for her.
I blink and I find myself at the front of the assembled crowd, peacekeepers within a reach of my hand. The silence is so violent, I can hear the beat of my heart and every breath our new victor takes. The atmosphere surrounding her feels so fantastical. I inhale part of the air and I can feel it blossom in my lungs - the feeling is so pure and untouchable.
I exhale and-
"Thank you, Katelyn Persimmon."
I breathe these words in the silence before the beginning of her speech. Suddenly, I sense the eyes of everyone gathered flicker onto me and the steel girl I thought I'd become effortlessly transforms into a vulnerable scribble.
