bonding in the inferno | hettinis day 4

i n s a n i s .

{We both knew it from the start
Some minds are better kept apart}

Death lingers in the form of charred flesh.

Various chemicals in the body, cells, bodily fluids slowly roasting as she just completely combusted. People have told me that when all that burns it produces a sickening smell and makes them want to empty their stomach. It gives me the exact opposite sensation. Just like on the second day the smell is rather sweet, coupled with the screams it's pure ecstasy. It's indescribable, watching flesh blacken and bodily chemicals combust in the endless supply of oxygen this arena supplies. And now it's followed us, a mixed reminder of the wasted opportunity in Cecilia.

The screaming tops it all off.

Me and Hettie remain side by side, crashing through the endless pounding of the wind and the violent swaying arms of the trees. Displeasure fills my mind at the fact we actually ran away from the scene. I wanted to fight on. We didn't need Cecilia, she was only an added bonus. We could have taken out at least one of them; maybe not Iain but me and Hettie definitely could have left our mark on them before leaving. But instead they dragged me away.

”I hope that crocodile thing slaughters at least one of them.” Hettie tells me, her words beading against my hard shell and rolling off. I raise an eyebrow at that statement, masking my displeasure at her audacity. She shouldn't be hoping for something else to do her dirty work for her, she should be making death happen by her own two hands. To think she relies on a dirty mutation to pass judgement for her is questionable to say the least. A dirty mutation that doesn't feel our pain, an impure beast that doesn't relish in the pleasure of watching it's victims suffer.

"Or we can do it ourselves." I tell her, masking the disappointment in my voice with nihilism. My throat is parched, my voice reflecting it with a low, very subtle crack. My mouth is as dry than a desert, silently begging for water. I haven't had a sip of water in... Three days? Memories of the variety of Capitol drinks come flooding back: water, lemonade, flavoured water, tea, coffee (I stayed away from that one) but of all of them I truly yearn for plain old water.

I allow my legs the rest they deserve and without hesitation I pull my water canteen from my bag and begin sipping the clear liquid as if it was sent down from the heavens itself. Its coolness instantly destroys the parched desert that has become my mouth and throat and finds its way down my gullet.

"Y'know, we prob-" I sharp sting stops my words dead in their tracks. A sharp buzz follows it and before I can even blink I'm surrounded by a cloud.

Insects!

I can't even react properly before they're attacking me in all directions, small stings nipping at me from all directions in a haze of buzzing. I stumble back and my eyes instantly shut themselves tight (so my eyes are protected) and I'm submerged in darkness. I wait, not even listening to Hettie's words as they weakly lash at my flesh. I cover my head with my arms. The pain turns from shock, to a sharp pain before it becomes blunt and they disperse like clouds in the sky.

My eyes open and I internally wince.

"They can't leave us alone for one minute can they?"

The sound of a familiar voice again is slightly calming. My gaze goes to her, observing her figure to see if she's damaged. Just a few lumps. Mental note taken. We've been slowly gaining more and more lumps as the days go on, mosquitoes have taken their feast as we sleep. All in all there isn't too much of a change. I can barely see them from here. Perhaps this is some kind of punishment for fleeing from the peasants in the swamp. Fuck that, I wanted to stay. Willis would have stayed and fought until his last breath, Kitty fought death on a horse and refused to back down, Gypsy definitely would have stayed, especially if Pyrian had been on the one consumed in flames.

And then there's me being dragged away from the fray. I've been hiding my frustration but with my next words I open a valve that allows it to drip down slowly. "Better than being dead," I state coldly. I let the silence hold, allowing it to wash over the two of us. I wanted to stay and fight but she dragged me away just because Cecilia fell. Wasn't that what she wanted anyway? I spot my fallen hammer at my side that involuntarily slipped from my fingers when I was protecting my face from the swarm and look at Hettie calmly. "I'm tired of running." I state as I keep myself from scowling. We didn't have to waste another opportunity.

"We didn't have to run and you know it."

i n s a n i s .

{We both knew it from the start
Some minds are better kept apart}

All of those long years forced to read Chemistry for dummies by school and not once did it mention what to do when the walls of complicated relationships came crashing down around you. What even are we? Acquaintances? Friends? Lovers? My body moved on its own yesterday and I felt romance spark. At least that's what I can guess it was because whatever that feeling was it wasn't normal. It wasn't quite pleasure but it was so similar - but there were no screams, no humiliation and I couldn't feel the suffering. No, it wasn't quite pleasure but it was sure very close to it. Like a volcano on the verge of eruption, a slow build up of something I can't quite put my finger on.

The training centre. That begun the chain reaction, that begun all of this, that begun this strange spark that reached its own little climax yesterday. Ever since that day...

There was chemistry, there's always been chemistry and surely it wasn't one-sided because she didn't pull away. She could have bashed my head in, she could have killed me, she could have pushed me away, she could have threatened me but she didn't do any of that. (That was saucy.) She said before we were pulled back together and re-ignited the spark. There was a spark and it was brighter than any incinerated tribute or flaming weapon that had been dipped in tar.

”If you didn’t want to run, then why did you follow me?” She asks and I'm taken aback by her words. She just fucking questioned me. Slight irritation begins to burn in my brain. (I didn't realised King Keeni allowed himself to be questioned.) A mockery to everything I stand for, she's actually trying to make me take responsibility. All my life I've ran from proper responsibility. I'm not going to begin to face up to it now just because she's questioned me. Perhaps that's where we're similar Willis, we never could face our responsibilities like people thought we should.

I hide my scowl, my gaze still on her but I'm silent (as much as I hate to admit it I can't even answer her question) and I allow her words to wash over me. However, she's not finished and even I know it. ”You could have stayed and fought…but you followed me out. I am not your mistress; you didn’t have to obey me.” Her words are a whip, striking me so hard that it cuts deeper than the skeleton mutation from Day 3. I don't let her see it because words are nothing but noise to me. I built a shell from the shards of other people's broken lives, nothing can break it, nothing can break me.

(I didn't realise King Keeni allowed himself to be questioned.)

"I never called you my mistress," I begin plainly. My words are falling heavily from my tongue between shallow breaths. I take a slight subtle step towards her. "I just-" My words stop in their tracks. (Just what?) My shell hardens and I don't even have to think about my next words. "Never mind." I state calmly. Fuck this. We shared something; something more than a common weapon and a common state of mind, something that ran deeper than a thirst for violence. A wall quickly forged from our chemistry. Perhaps we can-

(I didn't realise King Keeni allows himself to be questioned.)

My body moves like a machine, I sling my hammer and bag over my shoulder and walk in the other direction, my footsteps in unison with the wall that's slowly collapsing brick by brick without so much as a goodbye.

King Keeni doesn't allow himself to be questioned.

i n s a n i s .

{We both knew it from the start
Some minds are better kept apart}

"Go cry about it. You're crying like a little kid."

Laila Sycamore's words must have bit into the blonde Keeni (Willis, his name was Willis) like a fucking knife. The two allies have been arguing like cat and dog with neither side wanting to back down. I found it slightly hilarious at the time, that my drunkard cousin was supposed to be in a fight to the death and yet he was busy arguing with a little kid.

I also found it pretty hilarious that she was calling Willis a kid.

""You know what I went through as a kid, huh? You wanna go there? I've been through pain like you wouldn't believe. I can't close my eyes without feeling these scars." The tortured Keeni reveals the scars and bruises riddling his body. I stare at them from the screen, so enticed and so fascinated, I imagine the horror, the agony and the humiliation.

Must have been a lot of it made him start pouring poison down his gullet.

"You're feeling like the adult here? Want to grieve? Here, have a fucking drink, on me." She shoves the bottle of whisky into her hands, ignoring her horrified expression; I immediately know what's coming next.

"Screw your drink!" She screams defiance into his ears and throws the bottle into a tree and the glass bottle shatters into millions of tiny shards and my cousin's life's blood drains and runs across the ground. As predicted it sends him into a frenzy stronger than a hurricane. "WHAT THE FUCK!" Is he screams but she only replies with more defiance, despite the fact she shattered everything that blonde fool ever lived for. "That stuff doesn't help anyway! I saw you throwing up today!"

Good logic, but even her good logic won't even reach the ears of a broken boy.

"I CAN'T DIE SOBER! I can't." He's begging but nothing's gonna bring that whiskey back and the little girl tells him the hash truth.

"You can and you will."

I keep moving without looking back. Still, I catch the sound of her voice over the destructive howling of the wind. ”You’re just like Iain, go suck a thumb!” She yells at me but I don't allow it to make me stop dead in my tracks. How dare she. How could she compare King Insanis fucking Keeni to that weak child known as Iain. Just the passing comparison, just my name being mentioned in the same sentence of his sends my brain into a frenzy and my blood begins to slowly boil. Now I definitely won't go back. I don't even look back, my feet carry my on their own.

(King Keeni doesn't allow himself to be questioned.)

No one's ever even stood up to me, much less questioned a word I say. Perhaps no one had the courage, or perhaps I was always just that intimidating. Not this time. I knew I'd never be able to intimidate Hettie from the day I met her even if she wasn't a career I doubt I would. She's a fire storm, anything I feed to her only makes her grow, any source of resistance is only burned down, any fight only makes it hurt even more; she simply destroys everything in her path.

Well I refuse to be burned.

My legs keep carrying me somewhere, anywhere, anywhere that is away from her. She questioned me. She tried to dissect me, analyse me under a magnifying glass as if I'm nothing better than a rat (doesn't she understand I am king?) and she thought I would stand for it. She insulted me. Like I was Iain, like I would roll over and let her burn me to ashes (doesn't she understand who I am?) I won't burn like my cousins did. I won't let the fire consume me - I just can't.

(King Keeni doesn't allow himself to be questioned.)

It's more than just a personal attack, it's a matter of pride. I've always kept my pride through it all - I never once allowed someone to drag me down even a peg. Words, screams and broken whispers - I've heard them all and not once have I flinched at them. Even if there are from a... a... What exactly is she to me? I don't even know if I can even consider her just a friend. Just because of yesterday...

My body was like an automated machine; it moved on its own and pulled her in. But I wanted it to, I enjoyed every second of it. We were a flame in a sea of doubt and I swear nothing could've extinguished us in that moment. We burned brighter than any immolated tribute, the Gamemakers could've sent hell itself after us and nothing could have left us broken. We shared more than a twisted state of mind but no matter how many times I dissect it with a rusty knife and watch it with a magnifying glass I just cannot put my finger on it.

(Maybe King Keeni cared.)

Cared or not she still questioned me, I never would have allowed it in the past. So why should I allow it now. My legs burn but I keep them moving for reasons unknown I keep them moving despite the fact every cell in my body screams at me to stop. Before I can even contemplate it she's right behind me like a shadow. My brain flickers for a moment through the possibility that she's going to produce a knife and shove it in my back in a fit of rage. But she cannot kill me.

I'm still on zero after all.

Instead I feel her hand smack against my backside and my head snaps back to see her. ”Don’t walk away from me mister.” She scolds me like I'm a little student showing a teacher too much attitude in class. My eyes lock with hers for the briefest moment and we're both as weightless as air...

Willis Keeni abandoned her that day. The camera's showed him leave that tent in a cold rage and leave his sleeping vulnerable ally alone to die without so much as a goodbye. It's morning and I got up early just to see how he would cope with the final eight and so far I'm not even slightly impressed. He did what he had to do and cut the liabilities like any rational person would; what I would do.

But not for rational reasons.

Rational actions for irrational reasons. I shook my head as I see him walk away from the tent and the camera begins to pan in on his figure. Then it begins to pan in on his face, exposing every tortured thought, every feeling and his blank face yet tortured eyes. Everything distorts, like a mirage, an empty imagined riptide runs through my vision for a moment before refocusing - Willis appears to shimmer before my eyes. He turns to the camera and a blank smile appears on his face, as he bores into my soul with his tortured eyes.

"Good to see you're following my footsteps quite well, Insanis."

A cold fire rushes through my veins, igniting a passion that had been masked with a cold fury born from pride. My hand reaches out and grips her warm, empty hand that just touched me and pull her close so her body is pressing up against mine and I'm staring right down into her eyes. "Just can't let me go huh?" I ask with a warm grin. Perhaps King Keeni cares. Willis Keeni cared, he definitely cared but he ran, a rational action for an irrational reason and I silently judged him he ran. That's not me, that just can't be me. I'm not a hypocrite.

Willis was an expert at running; he ran from his problems, responsibilities, those he cared about. There was already one Keeni who ran, I can't be the second one. I won't emulate his actions, I refuse to, because (perhaps maybe) this time I care.

i n s a n i s .

{We both knew it from the start
Some minds are better kept apart}

Hettie's voice flashes through the back of my mind. "When you become allies.” She spoke those words when our little group formed in the training centre, when I shoved Iain on the floor and Cecilia came to defend him and even Hettie came to chime in. We formed a weak little bond that was built on necessity and desperation. We all mistrusted each other and I'm pretty sure I mistrusted Hettie most of all for the simple fact that she's a career, she's hot and she just seemed to now what she was doing. Perhaps that's why we weren't unbreakable as a group.

But this time...

The two of us are built on sturdy promises and a shared state of mind and perhaps that's what makes us unbreakable. Does she truly care? I don't know if I do, thousands of times I've seen stories like this play out on my small television screen back at home. Two tributes who think they're in some kind of unbreakable bond that will last them a life time despite the fact it seems more like a fling than anything else. It always ends the same way, it always ends with nothing but blood and despair. Hettie is a cunning yet ruthless career so the long lasting question lingers in the back of my mind, a small irritating buzz like a mosquito.

Should I really care?

It's pushed to the back of my mind where it belongs and I allow myself to be lost in the moment because I have a pretty good idea where this is going. Her flesh feels like it belongs against mine - like two halves of a childish jigsaw puzzle. One piece fits with another piece, or a key in a keyhole; it just belongs there and is out of place anywhere else. In the past when people have touched me I haven't exactly enjoyed it like this moment. It's always felt foreign, as if someone was deliberately invading my metaphorical bubble and I've constantly resisted the urge to send my fist in their teeth.

It's completely different this time.

In the back of my mind survival lurks. I'm consciously aware that there are cameras surrounding every possible angle around us - every human being in Panem are boring down on me with their judgemental eyes. But who are they to judge royalty? My whole life has been a journey to assert my dominance and force pain into submission to be my mistress. Still, people just called me a kid in the outside world, a kid with an attitude, a horrible family and an even worse mind. A disorder they said I had. Those psychologists called me dangerous, sadistic and told my parents to be cautious. They had no right to pass judgement on me. Just like all those people on the outside world have no right to pass judgement on me and her; King Keeni. It's not like family was any different either, considering they sent me to live with my cousins.

But in here we're unbreakable, we're an unstoppable hurricane that will uproot the trees, shatter families and end worthless lives; together we can spread suffering and the pain will make them all grow up before falling.

I gaze into her eyes once again as she raises herself on the tip of her toes, her hands rested on my lower back and I feel her lips lightly brush against mine, instantly confirming that she needs me. That's another difference between here and the outside world. I am needed.

Passion as fiery and red as her red hair grips my muscles as I bring my hands onto the back of her head, twirling her hair in my index finger once before bringing her lips back into contact with mine. I shouldn't be doing this but every fibre in my being tells me I have to because this kiss is a silent promise; together we'll flood the arena in the suffering of others.