facing tempests of dust {jb: karmichaels}

My sister has always been a figure of solidarity to me, resolute in the face of all our troubles. I would argue that she has lost far more than I have in this whole ordeal, because she was the one who was holding Elise when she was shot, the one who stabbed the Peacekeeper, the one who had to do time in the Detention Centre, who lost an eye and felt so void of hope that she volunteered her life because it was the only way forwards. Or at least, so it would seem - I'm yet to be sold on exactly why she is doing this, moreover why she's dragged the two of into a nightmare scenario. There is something bigger going on, some larger plan working the gears inside her head, I can sense it, I just don't know what it is.

I truly don't believe she wants to die. She has survived too much to throw it all away so rashly. Things did not look good, granted - the burned remains of our treehouse sanctuary were still a steaming hot pile of ash and char in the forest, and our entire collection of evidence and corruption claims against the District were completely destroyed, but it wasn't like we didn't have options, because we did. We had plenty of options, they were just all less favourable than our previous situation.

It boiled down to either falling in line or moving back in with Father. The latter of which is something Castor would never consider, and I have my doubts, but I'm a far stronger person now than I was two years ago. He wouldn't dare hit either of us now, I don't expect. He is far too weak, and we have grown too strong. He's a grubby little coward, hitting children who were too terrified to fight back or say anything against him. If we wanted, we could have marched in and taken that house, and he could have done nothing to stop me. I'll be fucking damned if I ever let that shit-stain of a human being hit my sister again.

I take measured breaths, trying to calm myself down, but each one is more shaky than the last. Panic is like a white hot fire inside of my head, bleeding down heavy onto my chest. I raise a hand to my forehead, grimacing as my cold palm presses against my almost fevered skin. Three days food wasn't a lot, but at least it was time to think and plan our next move. It was better than giving up and volunteering for the Hunger Games because all life had lost meaning. She is stronger than that, I know she is.

"We didn't have to..." She puts emphasis on we, and I frown. Surely she knew that by volunteering she was sealing both of our fates? There was no way I would ever, ever let her do this alone. I look the other way, back to the paintings. Dead, dead, dead. There hasn't been a District Seven Victor in living memory, nor in recent history. The odds of her coming out the other side of this are ridiculously slim, given the additional hurdle that is the Quell twist. I bite my lower lip as the reoccurring realisation that either I am going to die, or she is going to die or both of us are going to die hits me for maybe the fourth time in the space of a minute. Each time it's a twisting punch to the gut, knowing that we won't be coming out of this alive together.

"But I didn't want to stay here and die in a dark alley while Peacekeepers laughed at us. So, I'm taking another route." She tries her best to explain, but it's just not sinking in for me. Does she think she can win? Is that what this is all about, or does she really want to die? I am sure as hell not ready to die yet. I didn't spend all that time fighting the Capitol to let them win.

"Yeah, no offence Castor but your route sucks." I say, half joking, but then there is no lightheartedness in my defeated laugh, "It really, really fucking sucks."

The air feels thin, so I press my palms against the wall and lean on it, like it's the only think keeping my upright. Breathing hurts my chest, so I hold my breath, digesting what she's just said, and eager to hear what her plan of action is, all the while unable to look in her direction for a great number of reasons.

What's next?

Two broken souls facing the great bastion of authority, just like it always has been I suppose, only now we're leaning on the edge of infinity, blindly taking a step into the unknown.

And I'm going to fall, fall, fall.