carter bellisario, district two | cb fin

Carter's knuckles are broken and bleeding through ivory gauze wrapped tightly around his fists, and he's doing his best not to cry. He struggles to find his footing in the sand, there's a sharp pain in his knee that causes him to wince when he moves. There's a high-pitched ringing in his ears and he's pretty sure he can't hear anything because his father's lips are moving but there's no sound. He moves to talk, his lips forming every right word, but there was nothing. An emptiness. Just him and the ringing in his ears and he thinks that maybe he's dying. Tears prick at his eyes again, but he blinks them away, weakness was not to be shown.

Countless eyes are burning into his skin, scrutinizing every move he makes. Carter can't place the look swimming in his father's eyes, but it makes his stomach drop. There is no room for failure here. No room for mistakes. You either win or you lose, and his odds aren't looking too good. The Formation Trials were meant to push you to your limits, to break you, because diamonds are forged under pressure and if you shattered then you were never one in this first place. He wasn't going to let himself crack.

He'd rather die than lose.