tengo miedo ❁ lina&haze jb

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In the moments between, she found herself both surrounded and utterly, utterly alone. 

For a girl who always dreamed of a stage, this wasn't what she wanted at all. Be careful what you wish for, mijita - Haizea felt incredulously invisible. They weren't looking at her, but at a tribute, as in minutes that was all she became. She shrunk two sizes, held her head up high for those watching but she could feel herself slowly eroding as did her hopes. How do you stay strong when you feel pulled into the oncoming onslaught? In a matter of minutes, she felt the world slip out from under her. 

And what's worse, she fears she'll never hit the ground again. 

The peacekeeper unhands her at the Justice Building, a tough grip prying her from a past not ready to be left behind. Each step up the grand staircase feels like another in the wrong direction, but she knows better than to fight it. Not like her extended family, she's never been a fighter, not really. Hopelessly at the mercy of life like she always feared, here it is. The final days. Home never felt so far away. 

All she can do is embrace it. Thrown into a holding room like a dog but she finds solace in the minute she doesn't feel any lingering eyes on her. Horrid, as if the people of district 11 couldn't resist but observe a dead girl walking, the stares felt like bugs on her skin, a colony of ants trailing her cheeks & collarbones & forearms. It all caught up with her the second she stopped moving, collapsing not in the office chair but the floor in front of it, weeping in wails of grief. She cries and cries until it feels like there's no more of her to release - it's all out there. Somewhere between the stage and the Justice Building, she dropped the last piece of herself she may never find again. 

From here forth, Haizea refused to be a shell of a girl. 

She heard it in the back of her mind, in a voice not unlike her abuela's, telling her to stop her tears. For a second she believes it's god, hearing her prayer a moment too late but gifting her resilience all the more. It's unbelievably cold when she gathers herself, climbing into the office chair and pulling her knees to her chest, focusing on the sight outside the window instead. Izars, she recognizes some, less than she cared to admit, but for just a moment she feels something akin to comfort. A kiss of home, the villa still not too far away, for now. 

For now. That's all she really had left - the now. Ever beckoning present, and she begs to live in it forever. 

The first knock comes, and her lips quiver and her shoulders relax. "Mami," spit out in an exasperated breath, she cowers and sinks into the office chair but her mother doesn't skip a beat before embracing her, the tears are impossible to fight. Like caged animals, roaring and growling for freedom, she finds it in her mother's shoulders. She'll never grow to be as beautiful as her, and she weeps for the dress she left behind that morning. "Mami, I can't do this," but the consoles aren't enough. 

Haizea craves to dissipate.