Mother passed away when I was unable to help her. I wanted to be her superhero, but I failed. For a while, all I decided strive for in life was to help others. This slowly started to fade, however, as my life unraveled more and more. I thought I'd made good friends, such as a girl named Caitir Bowman, but when I told her that she needed to sort out her mental problems, which I didn't imagine would upset her so much, she told me I need to "get the fuck out" of her life. I listened to her, and tried to move on to making other friends. I'd moved out from living with my father not too long ago and moved in with a roommate. Unfortunately, my roommate hates me, too, now.
When my roommate and I got into an argument, one of us had to move out of the house. That ended up being me, as it was initially his place, and I was then left to fend for myself. I wasn't the one helping others anymore. No, I was the one who needed help, but refused to seek it out. I don't ask for help, as I personally feel that I'm too good for that. If you can't do things for yourself, maybe you're not meant to be doing them. There are so many types of people in this world that annoy me, such as those who don't realize that they're fucked up in the head, like Caitir was. Her anxiety and depression was either her asking for attention, or she seriously was messed up when she was conceived. I hate when people don't realize that they can just fix those types of things. They're not real problems, in my opinion.
I'd decided that, after my roommate kicked me out, I may as well leave the District. There was no point in staying there when no one wanted anything to do with me. Therefore, I made my way past the fence that surrounded District Eight and into the woods. I didn't get caught sneaking out, and actually managed to wander quite far in the several days I was in the woods. I barely saw anyone when I wove through the trees each day, but I still didn't quite know where I was going.
One day, after walking for a bit too long, I realized that I was getting rather exhausted. I'd been gathering my own food and water while in the woods in order to survive, but I certainly hadn't been getting enough sleep. This was why I set down the bag that contained my few belongings beside me and leaned up against a tree, closing my eyes to relax.
Soon enough, though, I'd find out that closing your eyes in the woods when you don't have anyone on guard is a terrible idea. 474 words
NOTE: Max is a character that has opinions very different from my own and are not things I would say, as they're quite offensive.
I’ve been traveling this god-forsaken forest for eons.
District Ten is much further than expected, or else I’m going the wrong way. I’ve got a shitty map, and I wasn’t exactly born with an innate sense of direction. I’m not a fucking migratory bird who knows the landscape.
Navigating, cartography, lonely silence -- these are the things I never learned to deal with, back when they were training me how to survive. Brute force was always the more fashionable option, and I’ve been absolutely winging the rest of it.
I also didn’t learn subtlety or the art of moving through the forest on quiet footsteps, and that’s why my heart seizes in my chest when I see someone leaning up against a tree.
No, definitely dead.
God, I’ll have to check.
I remove my knife from its leather sheath and tiptoe (poorly) over the remaining distance. I move quickly enough that it doesn’t matter if he hears me; my blade’s pressing gently to his throat soon enough. Not drawing blood, just… waiting.
Noise. Not a loud noise, but the crunch of leaves and sticks under someone's feet. It was present, and I could hear it getting closer. Although, by the time I opened my eyes, there was a knife to my throat, and I immediately broke out in a cold, panicked sweat. My eyes widened and I could feel the hot breath of my attacker on my cold, goose-bumped skin. It didn't matter if it was hot and humid here in the woods, my attacker's breath was even hotter and it scared me.
I was almost as scared as I had been on the day that mother died.
That day, I'd feared for her life. Now, today, I was fearing for my own.
I tried to speak, but I couldn't. When my throat shifted the tiniest bit as words attempted to emerge from it, the knife cut into me the slightest bit, drawing a nick of blood. My heart was racing, but I was scared to move. That is, until I thought about it.
If I survived this encounter, I would have at least saved someone in my lifetime. If I didn't survive this encounter, not only would I not have to deal with the scum of Panem like Caitir Bowman, but I'd be with mother again, should there happen to be some sort of afterlife. Now, a smirk started to cross my lips and the fear faded from my face and eyes.
"Are you going to kill me, dear stranger? I'll certainly let you try." I spoke these words while making the attempt to shove my attacker away from me. The knife hadn't completely cut into my throat when I spoke, as I'd been pushing my attacker away and pulling myself away from them the best that I could. 294 words
template by punki of adoxography Lyrics + Thread Title from: "Emperor's New Clothes" by Panic! at the Disco