a thousand miles from anywhere | brennan day 5

〖    b r e n n a n    f i t z g e r a l d    〗

I let Pierce and Haizea have their conversation inside while I take care of the fortification of our base. Whatever the hell that means, though. I take short sprints from the line of trees to our east and come back, scattering bent twigs throughout the entrance to our cave. That way, we might all be able to get some sleep instead of staring at the entrance. I'm not crafty like Pierce is with his traps, nor am I that good with my hands like Haze, whose fire is strong by my second trip back to the entrance. My ears perk up at each round I make, trying to catch a glimpse of what they're saying. Careful, though, to not make it appear like I'm eavesdropping.

I start to reset Pierce's traps despite the dreadful thoughts about what they could be talking about and why Haze is a part of his conversation but not me. Is he tired of me? Planning to run away in the middle of the night? That kiss must not have been very good if he wants to get rid of me for it. Maybe he's cutting a deal with her to kill me before they kill each other. Or Haze is probably telling Pierce that I told her I wanted to be a rebel and that I'm too much of a liability to keep around.

I hope that's not what they're talking about, but I can't help but feel like it is. I'm a stick of dynamite with a half-burnt line of wire attached to my side, waiting to detonate once the wire runs empty. Boom, the lunch bell rings and I get up without a word more spoken than when I'd sat down. Muffled conversations from a distance away pinch my neck and tell me I'm overstaying a welcome.

"It's just anxiety, Brennan," I whisper to myself, carrying another dozen or so thin twigs to scatter like alarm bells. "They still care for you."

My eyes stay locked on the path, doing their best not to look up and watch the cave out of paranoia. I have to come across as strong and able to persevere. The Gamemakers will surely do their best to keep a kid who whines and complains for nine days from winning their games. Their victor is the feature of their story. They won't want to write a story with such flaws. I drift further off away from the group and toward the mountain's end.

What beautiful colors. The warmth of the sun draws comfort. Yellow, orange, pink. Petals from the cherry blossom forest sail westward through the wind. Eventually, like all things in the arena, they find their end with the forcefield, burning against the immense pressure. Souls trapped to bear witness to our violence. I sigh, dropping to the ground at the mountain's edge between a pair of trees.

I take five breaths in, five breaths out, and lie on my stomach, head hanging over the edge. "Who would've thought, a guy like me makes it this far?" I speak under the assumption that there are cameras hidden all around me to catch the moment in high definition. Faces from Three, I hope, are watching like their meals for the next year depend on it. "Surely, those assholes from back home didn't. I hope you all think twice before treating me like shit at school again. 'Cause, you know, I killed someone in here." It's better for me to think about the people I hate than think about those I love when anxiety rears its paranoid spirit into my head. I drag a few stray rocks and push them off the edge, watching the holes in the streamwater as they fall. "And they didn't really deserve it. Unlike the kids in my grade, and everyone else in Three who let bad things happen to good people. 'Better someone else's kid than my own,' right?" I pull my body half an inch further off the ledge. I'm not considering it… at all, but I want everyone back home to lean in as if I might.

I sigh, one hand dangling against the free air. "That's the way it goes, I fear."

[maint things]