til the circus life made us mean ♆ Fraser&Hafen

The words coming out of his mouth were as condescending as they got, no sugar coating whatsoever. His speech floated above it all, standing there next to me kicking his boots like he was one of the spectators on the other side. He was playing with us all just the same the capitol was. I wondered if he even understood that he was in the same cage as me awaiting an almost certain death. A little scam as he proposes was not going to save any of us, and I would not be his puppet. What if Mr. I am better than you could be played at his own game.

Then what?

Would he curse at the sky when I leave him to be eaten by vultures?

People love a hero, but there is nothing rich folk love more than a helpless girl. Playing the melody of their heartstrings as I danced carefully wrapping them around my finger. I was no stranger to a scam where the teardrops were heavy with insincerity. A smile replacing an empty promise playing to the egos of people who had everything and nothing all at the same time.

The boy from seven was just us as privileged as the capitolites watching. He was blind to what mattered most, lacking the hunger that drove morality away. There was no greater weapon than hidden desperation and I was certain he could not even begin to understand it’s chokehold when you had nothing…not even a bed to call your own.

My head nodded in agreement; a deal was struck but the fine print left untouched. A pirates promise to rob him blind.

“Sure, I can do that. Just be ready to catch me alright…they ain’t gonna like if you drop the poor little girl” I hinted. Steadily I increased the pace of my breathing, paying careful attention not to hyperventilate as I let the agony in my face become apparent. It was not hard for the pain on my palms was as real as it got. There was dried blood on all parts of my body, playing tough was not the way to go. Even if the pain never bothered me, who would feel sorry for a tough girl. I had to infantilize myself, hope that mothers would want to save a girl with no mother. Fathers would tell their sons that they could fix a hopeless child like me.

For this to work, they would need to want to save me. With the boy from sevens help, I would let them think it’s possible. When the time was right (now this was the trickiest part), I would save my self…strength replacing fear. A story of a heroine one would idolize for years to come. The pirate queen.

I grabbed onto his arm as I stood up slowly as if every breath hurt. Making sure to shake my body ever so slightly as a reaction to the widespread aches. My grip on his arm growing stronger as I shifted more weight onto him, leaning myself enough to make it plausible but not enough that would send me to the floor if he rejected the spiel.

“Please…help me to the pond…I..I..I need water” my voice rattled in instability gasping for air between my heavy breaths. I made sure to get myself at a good angle for the camera’s without ever looking directly towards them. All part of the allure this was real.

Stupid stupid boy from seven. As if I did not know how to run a scam.

He whispers a promising threat into my ear as we stumble towards the pond. Bold of him to assume I would play along with his charade; one he was doing horribly at portraying. This kid from seven was anything but a natural, almost safe to assume he never had relied on a performance to make sure he would have something to eat for the week. Still even from someone so self-obsessed I had awaited much more, rich kids with silver spoons glued to their tongues often possessed a flair for the dramatic.

The goal of this all was to have the cameras focused on us, they seemed to be losing interest as Fraser continued with a performance, convincing no one. It was a sinking ship I was not the captain of, and I knew when to save my own skin. His threats turning inviting, knowing if I could spin the narrative anything he would do afterwards would make him hated.

Narcissists were always doomed to drown in the pool of their own reflection.

Hovering almost above the water, I pulled myself slightly closer to him the same way he had whispered his threats. “You would not survive one day on the streets, shoulda’ never trusted a pirate girl” I laughed slightly before slinging all of my weight backwards. One hand grasping onto his wrist with the other tugging on his shirt. I let myself fall into the small bods of water dragging him down with me. A piercing cry as we fell, a high pitch filled with dread. The sound of a frightened girl, authentic and haunting, sure enough to draw the cameras right back.

I stayed submerged, using what strength I had to make sure his hands stayed on my body or at least underwater where they could not see. My upper body thrashing to the left and my lower body to the right.

I held my breath.

37…38…39..40…41

I pushed my myself back to the surface.

“Help!” I shouted with desperation before going back under for a few more seconds. “He…t…tried” I counted to seven. “Trick me.”

Each time I went up, I made sure the camera’s were watching the poor girl from four being held down under water. My body throwing a fit, my mind knowing well enough I could hold my breath for much longer periods. I struggled to fight when there was no fight. Who would not feel bad for poor little me?

“He promised…help”, three two one. “Help me”.