within this shallow grave; Katrina vs Jack Day 7

You leave in the middle of the night.

Everything to your name shoved into the leather satchel at your feet, you hoist it over your shoulders as quietly as you can and tip toe away from the others. Andal is the only one you linger on, the only one you hesitate to abandon. Not because you want him to make it over you, or because you care that much for him, but because he was the only one that had been kind to you. Up until the last possible second, he was sweet. Sewing up your wounds from yesterday, knowing full well there was every possible chance the two of you would have to kill one another in the morning.

He was a good boy - is a good boy. You just hope he’s never on the other end of your blade. You’re not sure if you could finish the job. With a gentle kiss on the forehead, you hold your breath as he stirs beneath your touch, then back away slowly. Silently. Looking toward Silver first, you feel nothing. No loyalty, only justification. She was a means to an end. As was the girl curled up beside her, arm draped across Two’s torso. There had been a time you fancied being there, Katrina wrapped around you like a blanket. Now all you see is privilege. You know when she looks at you, it’s like you looking at Silver. Another means to an end.

It’s a realization you don’t like. Mostly because you thought you had done everything to prepare to not be surprised by it. You told yourself over and over, this was temporary. This alliance was useful, nothing more. That’s the problem brushing elbows with the rich, with a career. They make you feel as good as them until you aren’t - until you’re in the way.

At least it’ll be the last mistake you’ll ever make.

The next morning comes without any rest being had. You spend the night moving, circling around the lake, putting as much distance between you and the people Panem wants to see you kill. You have others in mind. The blonde from One, the girl who had come for you the very first day. That girl from the castle, when Akira tried to cut you down. Akira. You haven’t really let yourself think about him since that day. But you do wonder if you make it back to Nine - what will Avriel say? What would Storm? You may not have struck the final blow, but you definitely didn’t help him. In all but words, you killed him. What’s worse, you wanted to. Suddenly, you realize you may not even be welcome home.

Maybe it’s a good thing you might die here.

Footsteps crunching the earth behind you confirm the night’s suspicions: you’re being hunted. It’s not paranoia if you’re right. You don’t turn immediately, though. You let the silence fester, allow whoever it is to come to grips with what they’re about to do. Because you gave them the chance. You lent them all the opportunity in the world to not prove you right and enact a betrayal they can never come back from. You think back to Akira briefly, as Izzy squared up in front of his frantic, bestial self. The girl he’d vowed to protect changed her tune and brandished her blade in his direction. You’d laughed, taken so much delight in his despair, enjoyed far too much the look of disappointment on his face.

Maybe you deserve this.

You shrug your bag off your back, cracking your neck and rolling your shoulders before striking the match on the torch in your left hand and unsheathing the glaive with your right. Spinning as the flame ignites, your eyes land on exactly who you expected it to be: Katrina. Tears threaten to spill in the corners of your eyes, for no other reason really than you simply didn’t want it to be this way. You wanted the problem you caused to be solved by someone - anyone - else. You didn’t want their blood on your hands.

You don’t have a choice.

“You should have just let me leave,” you spit at her, words made venom, hot and burning on the tip of your tongue. Why the fuck did she have to make her death your priority? She drones on about half-hearted honor, stabbing you in the front and not the back. How thoughtful. Katrina buries the sword about eight inches into your stomach, a smile on her face and a similar looking hunger in her eyes, matching the gnawing in your stomach as you get a good, clean whiff of her many remaining open wounds. It’s less like a disgusting wet dog now, but maybe that’s just the pangs in the back of your throat; you’d eat anything at this point.

With a grunt, you bring the torch up for leverage and push off of her blade, blood spraying across the damp earth beneath your feet. You swear the lake got closer as soon as it smelled it. That gives you an uneasy feeling, so you circle around the girl before you, making sure it’s her back that faces that black endless void of a lake, not yours. “Straight to the face, yeah?” You take a step toward her slowly, spinning the emblazoned wooden stick around a few times as you stow the scythe for now. You grip the torch like a bat, rearing it up over your head with a little flourish before taking another step closer and swinging - the girl’s head as good as any baseball.

“Think fast, kitty Kat.”

[ jack attacks katrina, torch ]

XR3zX9heMWblunt

[ 6.5 ]

1-50

[ +2 minor burns ]

Jacqueline.

It cuts deeper than her sword just had, pierced a far more tender place and punctured a much more serious organ. At least that's what it felt like. The only people to ever call you that had been your parents. The ones who'd given you that name in the first place. That was why you hated it, why you insisted so much on Jack when you were a child new to the House of Eons, so that it would stick. And you'd never have to hear it again. They'd thrown you away, like trash to the curb on a Thursday morning, never to be thought of again. So, you did the same. You threw Jacqueline away and never thought twice about her.

"That's not my fucking name," you practically growl, just like her. A monster in the shape of a girl. Girls in the shape of monsters. She swings her blade again, and in that instant it was clear who between them was the predator and who was the prey. But you refuse to accept it, even as she slices off your arm and it falls with a squelch at your feet. 

You expect to scream, or cry - something. But there's barely even any blood, barely even any pain, really. Just shock, anger, and pure, unadulterated rage. You refuse to be just another career's statistic. That's all you've ever been in this life, a number for a politicians campaign. A footnote in Eons' yearly stipend from Nine. A girl lost and never found, but always used as a pawn in someone else's game. This was supposed to change that; volunteering was supposed to be your way out. 

What a stupid little girl you are. 

You don't matter to anyone and you never did. 

Acceptance fuels your next blow toward Katrina, your only remaining hand gripping the flaming staff with all the strength a five-foot-something, ninety pound, one-armed girl can. And you swing, praying for a miracle you know will never, ever be afforded to you. 

We know better than to hope, though, don't we?

[ jack attacks katrina, torch ]

JrCoW3E8ojblunt

[ 7.5 ]

1-50

[ +2 minor burns ]

You wait for death to come.

Like a sweet release, a cage opened, a deep breath finally taken - but it never does. At least not yet. You can't decide if Katrina is prolonging this for some sick satisfaction, or if she just really can't get the job done. Whatever it is, it enrages you more than ever before. Even in the face of your own demise, you aren't afforded any sort of kindness.

No swift death for you, only suffering.

You think of Espie briefly, as your vision blurs and Katrina becomes nothing more than a dark blob a few feet in front of you. She's got a white dress on, her hair in curls, and a smile on her face. It makes you smile in return. This is how she should always look. Clean. Happy. Like she's worth a million bucks - because she always has been to you.

You blink and she's gone.

Replaced quickly by a wolf instead, teeth bared and hunger wafting off of its hot breath like a stench. It wants you - she wants you dead.

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?"

You scream at the top of your lungs, angrier than you've ever been before. For some reason, Katrina seems determined to take away the only thing you have left: your life. And you just want to let her at this point. You want it to be over and done with. In truth, you just want to go home. To bury your face in Espie's neck one last time, to take in her saccharine scent. You want to tell Avriel and Storm to fuck off with your final words. To let them know that all they do is give the rest of us false hope - that we can make it, too.

We know better than to hope, though, don't we?

You strike at her again because that's all that's left to do, all you've ever known how to do.

Fight.

[ jack attacks katrina, torch ]

dZTFT6ut2Xblunt

[ block ]

1-50

[ +2 minor burns ]

* accuracy *

blunt

[ 6 ]