[Day 3] Sabre Semi-Finals: Hammerfell vs Harvard

How did it get like this- my fingers tracing porcelain, hasty and drunk and rushed and IloveherIloveherIlove,

I fucked up.

We slept until noon, drunk and throwing up in the apartment bathroom -- I'm supposed to be better than this. I feel like I have ghost limbs, ten fingers missing between all of mine and I don't know when I lost them, or when I got them -- I hate it. I can't do this anymore, seventeen years of the two of us and I threw it away over some damn Hennessey or something.

Hayden tasted like peppermint. 

I can't stop thinking about it, the sanguine of her mouth and mixing toothpaste and tangerines; I missed my events yesterday. I skipped, I disqualified, I don't care. The two of us were against each other in Sabre, the only reason my ass is still in the event -- a coin flip. Like tearing the petals of a rose, she loves me, she loves me not, she loves me, I go on, Hayden goes on, I go on.

I go on. And I can't throw it away. 

Dear lord, please let me get bronze-

Torka Hammerfell; my ass is out. I'm only here on a coin flip, I shouldn't be here -- Hayden's in the sidelines, she can tap in, right? Dear lord, dear lord, I grip onto my sabre in a drunken haze, Hayden's skin pressed against mine and -- dear lord.

"Hello," help me.

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Four to Four, I didn't expect to do well here. The best of the best and Delilah -- it seems to always work its way down to this. Sloane Savage, Hayden, and now Hammerfell himself.

How the hell am I still in this. 

I stutter, he hits me twice before I block him and I can't articulate my wrist like I could two days ago, it's all sluggish and embarrassing; I'm wielding the sword like I know I shouldn't be here and I don't know how to not do it. I made it far enough, right? Getting my ass beat to a Hammerfell wouldn't be so bad. I picture us in the games, district partners and he's come to kill me before the finale -- hell, I'd build the coffin for him. A nice velvet thing, the insides a rich purple and my outfit black with white pearls. Cricket Antoinette wouldn't look twice at my grave and neither would Hayden.

That'd be okay right? Fourth place? 

There's been worse, I tilt the sword in my wrist, limp and light and I stare Torka in the eyes and goddamn I might build my coffin right now. I'm winning, I gotta remind myself that but it's hard against the face of district two at the moment -- "you're a quiet one, huh?"

Oh boy.

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Oh yeah fuck me, nope don't wanna do this nope nuh uh not today nope

I hit another four streak, his face not desperate, not apparent -- I don't think he likes me. That's for sure but oh well, when he starts kicking my ass I probably won't like him either. He probably cares more than me, huh? I mean I got my prize, kinda, it's complicated. It was drunk and hazy and clumsy but somewhere in there Hayden told me she loved me, right? 

Focus.

Hammerfell breaks me, another four streak -- so that's how that feels. Do I care enough to break a Hammerfell out of this, like, it's just Sabre. But it's also the olympics, I should care, right? Somewhere in there I should really care about this match. It's just now worth it, he doesn't respond and I don't anything else to say; something awkward? Sometimes nice? I think he's deaf, what if he's deaf oh my god am I being insensitive. 

I'm ready to sit out already.

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