apology [fangor day 3]

"I'm sorry that I let you down
Let you down
All these voices in my head get loud
I wish that I could shut them out"

♛

Seeing Pris die was something that I wasn't prepared for. Before it happened, I didn't think of it as something that I needed to be ready for, though. I thought that I'd be fine, seeing the other tributes die. I'd seen it on the television screen every year of my life. I wasn't okay when my father was killed in front of me, but that was because he was my father. I loved him. I cared about him more than anything or anyone in the world, and he was ripped away from me. I wasn't attached to Pris in that same way.

I suppose I was still attached to her, though. She was almost like the little sister that I never had. She was my one friend in this arena. The one person who didn't seem to want to kill me was the youngest in the arena- this little twelve-year-old from the lowest District. Prismarine was the one that apparently I wasn't ready to see die. I knew that it would happen at some point, but clearly I cared about her, and I didn't want to see it when it did happen.

I sat in the woods, back against a tree and the little orange pumpkin creature known as Punk sitting beside me. Punk had followed me away from the fight where Eight and Pris died, and was now seeming to want to stick around. It was a friend of Pris, so I figured that I might as well take care of it, or at the very least, let it tag along with me.

When Eight died, I hadn't been fazed by it. When Pris died, I wanted to cry, and I was never one to cry. The last time I remember crying was when my father was killed, which would only make sense to do. I couldn't let myself cry in front of Pris's killer, though. I would seem weak. Could I really let myself cry now, though? If I did, all of Panem would think I was weak, too.

No, I had to keep the tears in. There was not going to be any crying. Not now.

I could save that for when I went home a victor when they'd be a different kind of tears.

Punk snuggled up to me, leaning against my leg as I sat there against the tree in my dim lantern light. I still had my axe in my other hand, just in case anyone else decided that they needed to fight me tonight. I could never let my guard down. Besides, after what had just happened tonight, I doubted that I would even be able to sleep.

I patted Punk on its little orange head.

"You're cute, little guy," I said to it. "I see why Pris took such a liking to you." As I said these things, I kept my voice low so as to not attract attention. The light of my lantern would already have the chance of doing that, and I didn't need to make it a bigger chance.

For the rest of the night, I sat in my lantern's light with Punk eventually crawling all the way up onto my lap. I had to get my mind off of Pris's death.

Distractions weren't allowed. I needed to survive, no matter how much guilt I felt for not protecting Pris well enough. Hell, I hadn't even tried to avenge her death.

"I'm sorry, Pris," I whispered into the night. "Don't worry, though, little one. I'll make sure your killer doesn't survive this arena." I paused for a moment.

"I promise."