Brock Fawn | District 10 | CB/FIN

Blood runs through our veins, every minute, of everyday. It powers the main engine in our body, the heart. No matter what we do to ourselves, be it sleeping or running for our lives, the heart is still getting powered by blood. It powers our brain, our muscles and lunges. The heart decides what we love in the world, arguing against the sensible brain. The heart helps us become sentimental, the heart determines if we’re soft or strong. We need blood for all that to happen inside of us, which is why it should never be outside of our body, for once blood is spilled; the cycle is disrupted.

They call me a useless wimp, for every time I see spilled blood, my face goes white and I hit the ground. I can help it but I choose not to. Blood can only be a sign for distress. Someone must’ve gone through a lot of pain for it to be outside of their body, just like my cousin. On the screens I could see the blood that surrounded her in that arena and it can only mean terror, for the arena is not a fairy-tale land.

I can never hide from it, my family’s butchery is filled with it and it’s a constant nightmare that follows me around. They force me to deal with it, they say I’ll grow used to it but I don’t want to. I forced myself to fear blood for a good reason; it’s my own survival tactic. I never want to see any of my family covered in blood again, not like Bree.