(cargo) hold on [UFOs day 1]

so, bless my heart and bless yours too

I am alone.

I don't know what this room is called. Storage, maybe. I call it dusty.

I don't want to die here. I thought I would. Just needed quiet. Peace. I want more. More than peace and quiet. More than Serenity.

Serenity Cyprus. Fuck, she was beautiful. She's what I want. My mother back. My fingertips go numb, cold. I am shivering. Beneath my giant, cloud-like coat. Despite the warmth of my pants. I shiver until I jump. Beep beep. A mutt. It has to be a mutt. I leap to my feet, pivoting to see what's around. Just boxes. Stacks of boxes miles high. Up to the ceiling, above the staircase. Boxes and boxes and more boxes. Beep beep, but it sounds so close. I hold my breath. Beep beep beep beep beep beep beep. My feet take off. My head takes a few seconds. Processes the terror. But I don't scream. Not here. I just run.

It's not long until the beeping continues. It followed me across the warehouse. Now it taunts me. Waits in the shadows. Just outside my view. I have to leave. If I stay there I will die.

I thought it was what I wanted. An itchiness still in my cheeks tells me otherwise. Dr. Eams would tell me to breathe and reflect. To consider how my actions affect me and others. But my actions never follow course. Not how they're intended. I am always learning how I fucked up more. How I could've done things differently. How I could be happy. Right now. Happy.

"Fuck you, Dr. Eams," I mumble. Just like he does. "Happiness is relative."

I don't think I believe that myself. But I have to try. More beeping, and I know how to stop death. At least how to stop it right now. I barrel back toward the entrance, toward the spiral staircase. But I am not fast. Not in my boots. Not in my clunkers.

I kick them off at the base. Up the stairs I race. Upon descent, I puked over the rails. Twice. The climb is much more agreeable. My stomach thinks so too. I get to the top and face the door. Time to leave this wretched place behind. I raise my watch to scan at the lockpad, and it beeps. My watch beeps at me.

I lose it right there. I laugh so hard. I laugh so loud. I am more than an easy target. Especially with laser guns in the mix. At least I am (relatively) happy.

Hours are sucked away staring at a tiny screen. I watch words dance past. Read my district partner's sexual thirst. Feel a shared sense of disgust with twenty-one others. Forget we are enemies. Forget we have to be enemies. Forget it's only harder if they're human. If their humanity is exposed.

These gamemakers are sick. This looks like a clever ruse. Tastes like a cheap party trick. It's an icebreaker. De-stress us from the peak of stress. In a way that binds us and warms us and makes us smile. Makes us forget. (I can't forget.) It's only for drama. It's for ratings. It's for our hearts to be crushed even more. To solidify us in this trauma. To share the pain and the hunger. And then force us to kill each other. To eat each other's hearts. It's eat or be eaten. Kill or be killed. And I just want to be alone again. I press every button on my watch. The screen stays lit. For a moment it's blank. I see myself in its reflection. I take a deep breath, for Dr. Eams.

Beep beep. Indestructible capitol bullshit. If they can make everlasting watches, they can get districts out of poverty. Sons of bitches.

I look at the screen. Elite. Just before him, Cedar. Separated by Ike and Jason discussing their dicks. I consider puking a third time in the oversized closet. I don't. Instead I message Elite, privately.

NELL: i think i shot cedar do u think he hates me :-(

It takes several drafts to find the right words. I don't want to be demanding. I don't want to seem obsessed. I know I'm doing myself a disservice. I know this only makes living (and dying, and whatever comes after) harder. But when I picked up my laser gun, before my own ear got blown off, I think I shot him. I don't want to die with him mad at me. Or, I don't want him to die mad at me. Or, why do I care? Why do I care? We are all going to die. But I've already hit "send" and I can't take it back. The gamemakers get what they want. They always do.

I mentally sign a contract of limited tech-time. I can't let myself get sucked in. I am sure somewhere in these boxes there is more to do. I head back down the stairs, considerably less dizzy. I am alone. But I am okay.

A flash of red bursts into my thoughts. Raisin's eye gushing blood and bits of flesh. Her body falling to her knees. To the floor. Even if I survive, I will never be okay.

I think to message Eos then, but no. I must hold myself to my promise. I can't devote my last days to socializing and memes. Not in this economy. I'll have to thank her later. She may have killed the hottest girl in the games, but she is more. After the bloodbath, after the violence, I waited by the door in shock. I stared, empty and dull, at the wall. Yards behind me were tributes. The ones who scared everyone away. Who shot off my ear. I didn't even get to pick it up. I just left it and ran.

When the panic set in I knew it was the perfect time to organize. All the items I grabbed amidst bloodshed, dumped on the floor. I kept the wand and my blaster in hand, shoved the rest in my bag. Still not organized. Yet I felt accomplished. Slung it over my shoulder. But when I reached for the other strap, I couldn't. I pushed my arm further back. Bent it to extreme angles. Twisted. Strained. I couldn't get the other strap on. Finally she bound up to me, Eos. She was ahead of her allies. She could have killed me. Right then. Right there.

She didn't. She pulled my strap around my enormous coat. Hooked it on my shoulder. I stared at her. Only a few seconds. "I love your hair, it's so shiny." I blinked. Picked up a hand. Reached out to touch it. Her hair. But I remembered Kass. Remembered her reading my cards. I am the fool. I was being foolish. I pulled back. Rubbed my sweating hand on the front of my pants. Offered a weak smile. And jumped through the door up the wall.

I want to message her. To thank her properly. But it's too late. I am deep into the cargo hold now, back pressed against a mound of boxes. An open container of dried food sits beside me. I am going to be okay. I am going to be okay and I'm not going to make things harder on myself. I'm not going to become attached, to anyone, or anything. I won't befriend a lizard. I won't talk to ghosts. I won't even have any allies. I'll keep to myself. It's all I know. At this rate, it's all I will know.

don't know where I'm gonna go, don't what what I'm gonna do

[ooc: nell does first aid and other trib maint things
song credits: hold on by alabama shakes]