§ome Thread About A Dude In A Hole

Silver Emmend

There is a fine line between love
And obsession.
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Since the beginning of time, wave and flame have been known as adverse. It almost comes naturally to think of the two elements when someone asks for opposites. They are just so dissimilar in so many ways. Even their methods of destruction are totally different. While fire consumes and spreads, water breaks and crashes. Fire is constantly dancing upward, toward the sky. Locked to the land, it can never escape, yet is reaches up, higher and higher, until only light remains, hanging in the air just above a flame. Water moves, too, but it moves toward land. Any rise upward immediately results in a crash back down. Fire is yellow and bright, and gives off light. Water is blue and cool, and can only reflect. Fire is known for it's destruction, and water is known for it's healing. The sun is made of fire, and the moon controls the waves. They are two that can never be combined- forever in their own worlds, never able to touch without destroying each other.

Perhaps that explains my reaction. Water has always calmed me, soothing my worst fears and making happiness bloom inside my chest like a pale blue flower revealing it's beautiful petals. When things get bad, I take a swim. Yes, I'll admit, I'm obsessed. I used to be convinced that it was a very bad thing. But after I met Yucca, I became rather unsure. Is it really bad to care about something strongly? Either way, water creates peace inside of me. I have one memory of walking along the shore of the ocean one warm summer night. There was no wind, and in the distance, I could see a group of people gathered around a bonfire, with dark smoke looking pale against a midnight colored sky. The water was so calm, the only sound it made was a slight whisper when a small ripple appeared on the sand. Beside that, it was still. The sky and the water were the exact same shade of chalky navy blue, so I couldn't see the horizon line. It looked like the dark night sky was just coming down to earth to feel the soft white sand. In the distance, trees stood tall and mighty, black against an even blacker sky. Everything was so gentle and delicate and still that I felt like I could just sit down at the edge of the ocean, with the water nibbling and my toes, and it would last forever. Morning would never come. But I knew that was impossible, so I decided to make it the best I could. Without hesitation, I pulled of my shorts and shirt to reveal the swimsuit that I had worn underneath in hope of a nice night, and wandered into the water, looking into the distance as the pale orange moon began to rise up above the water.

This is like the opposite of that night. At first, there is only blackness, and my head jerks up as one of my senses is completely blocked off. And then I see it. At first, it is a small, delicate flame, like a candle. It seems to fill the space with a gentle, warm light. It is reflected in wide, pale gray eyes. At first, I feel a warmth as I remember happy memories with my grandmother and even my parents when the lights went out and we lit candles after the sun went down. While I have many memories of my grandmother, my parents' faces have become faded in my mind. Any memories that involve them are very important to me, filled with happiness and warmth. But that warmth is quickly stabbed with a sharp pain as I remember something. Fire can be tamed if it dances on a candle. But there are no candles where that small flame is. When fire isn't kept, it spreads.

And so the flame grows. It becomes a raging, cracking, hissing fire that advances like a cruel army. I stand there, frozen for a moment, completely unprepared. No. No, I just handled the first disaster. I can't take another one. I just... can't. It hurts too much. Screams surround me as people shout for their friends, family, or even themselves. People are shoving things around, knocking plates over, and spilling food and drinks onto the floor. An instinctive wail begins in my throat as I realize I'm trapped and there is hardly anything I can do. I swallow it down though, because Yucca can't see me like this, and- wait! I glance at the empty chair beside me. Yucca! What happened? Where did she go? I search for a flash of white in the see of people, but find no one. No, this isn't happening! I lost her? How could I loose her? I promised to protect her! I begin to move to find her, when the thought that she might have gotten out already and may be okay hits me. I have to think for myself, now. I have to get out of here.

I glance toward the fire, and then the huge amount of people blocking my escape toward the door. And suddenly, it hits me, full force. I could die. As in, be lost forever like the girl up above me and the girl- wait, what? I take a double take when I see the girl on the ground. When did she get there? What's going on? My breathing comes in short gasps, which probably isn't a good thing, because the air is becoming filled with puffy black smoke. It's too much. Too much for five minutes. Thoughts become jumbled and unclear in my head. I can't do this! Why am I here? I don't deserve this! I have to get out of here! This isn't fair. I should have stayed home. Why did I come to this wedding? I barely know the groom. I can't do this. Everything is too much for me to handle. I might be next. Oh, no, I'm going to do. I can't do this. It's too much. This isn't right! Those poor girls! Where's Yucca? I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this.

And then it happens. I completely loose it.

An inhuman shriek escapes my lips and I run, faster and faster, tripping over chairs and people, not even sure where I'm going. Away from the fire, that's for sure. But how will I escape? I look toward the door, which has been kicked down, but fire comes between me and freedom. The smoke burns my lungs as I run. Aren't I supposed to crawl or something when there's smoke. No, that won't work. I'll never get out fast enough. Suddenly, there is fire in front of me, and smoke all around me, and I spin all around but there isn't anything there except a wall of black and yellow heat. It's impossible now. There's no way I'll get out in time. If I don't burn, the smoke will kill me. I'll just be one of the many who died on this island. No friends or family who will really care. I have to accept the fact that this is it. I'm going to die.

That thought calms me down, oddly enough. I stop running, and stumble toward a nearby table which isn't on fire, laying on my back and facing the ceiling. Something's wrong with my vision... wait, no, that's just smoke. Silly smoke, filling the air. Ouch. The heat is really getting... well, hot. I move my feet up onto the table, and they cool down a bit. That's better. For now, anyway. Things are probably going to get worse from here. But that's okay. It's all going to be... okay.

Something inside me whispers that something's wrong with my head. The smoke isn't letting me think straight. But I ignore it, and instead focus on the things on the table near me. There's still some food on this one. Fruits and some pieces of meat are scattered near me, staining the pretty cloth, and my mind almost picks up the thought that those are the exact same pieces of food that were on my plate. A glass lays shattered near me, and pieces of the glass pierces my skin, but I barely notice anymore. And over there, just within my reach, with ice bobbing around the inside of that pretty clear glass... I really should get one of those pitchers. They're so pretty. And... wait, what's that inside of there? For a moment, something strikes inside me, but then it's gone, and I'm simply gazing at it again. It's moving. Well, no, it can't be moving. But it is. Somehow, it's making the ice float. And then, everything becomes very clear, and one word hits me.

Water.

Water. My savior. My obsession. My secret. My love. My security blanket. Suddenly, I have shot up into a sitting position, with the pitcher gripped firmly in my hands. My lungs burn from the smoke, and my arms are cut and bleeding from the glass, but I hardly pay attention as I stare at the clear liquid that moves around inside the pitcher. Automatically, my arms raise above me, dumping the stuff on my head, ice and all. For a moment, there is nothing but relief, and water parts my hair and seeps into my scalp, and runs down my back and face. I am completely calm, and my thoughts are momentarily clear. And at that one moment of sanity, in something that can only be luck, my eyes land on a window. I can still get out of here. I'm going to make it. I'm not going to die. Not today, anyways.

I grab the biggest, heaviest plate I can reach, and run over to the window, not even glancing at what lies beyond. My arms swing around behind me, and for a moment, I am still, gathering strength and courage. I don't have much time. Fire is right behind me, ready to destroy. For some reason, I momentarily hesitate. But I quickly remember the two girls, and then the plate is zipping around, hitting the window full force. For a moment, the window turns completely white, the tiny pieces hanging in the air for just a moment before falling to the ground in a tiny chorus. I laugh, my eyes wild, and step into the frame of the window, dropping the plate down. I watch as it hits the water, and imagine myself falling after it. The fresh air that greets my lungs actually manages to bring some sense into my mind, and I feel fear strike me in the chest once more. I can't jump! It's too long of a fall, and I hate falling. But... there's no other way out right now. Fire is right at my back. I have two choices. Definitely die, or maybe die.

I choose the second, and dive.

For a moment, there is nothing but space and emptiness and falling, and I have a moment where I'm not freaking out or trying to rescue myself. Images that didn't even really stick in my mind when I saw them flash through my mind. Flames eating up the end of the table just as I started to leave it. Tears streaming down peoples' faces as they came to the same realization that I did. People screaming out names, and pointing around. Extending arms to people who will never reach them. Becoming separated, splitting into ground that stream out of the dining hall bit by bit. Smoke cutting me off from the others. Fire, claiming the floor in front of me as I yank my feet off the ground, not even realizing what was happening...

Wham! Hitting the water is like hitting stone, and I let out a cry of pain before sinking down, into the waves. I'm alive, and that's enough cause some joy to surge through my veins. But the smoke has left me weak and disoriented, and for a moment, the lack of air shocks me. What do I do? Then I remember that there is no oxygen underwater, and I sink down even further, wondering what I should do to solve the problem. Suddenly, my feet hit the ground, and images of pushing off, toward the sky, fill my mind. I bend my knees and shove myself up, gliding easily through the water. My eyes are wide open, and the salt water stings them greatly, but I can't close my eyes. Terrifying images will only replay behind my eyelids.

When I feel my head rise above the water, I take a deep gulp of air. Real, clean, sea washed air. I think of all the times I've breathed in air like this on the beach, and want to cry. It's going to be okay. I'm alive and, for the most part, uninjured, although the cuts on my arms sting in the salt water. For a moment, I am just there, in the ocean, my home that will always be there for me. The thing that has saved me from total insanity yet again. My legs move back and forth, keeping me from sinking again, and I search around, looking for some area where I might be able to rest for a moment before moving on. I spot a small cove, and my heart lightens a little bit more. Things might actually be going right now. Today is not my day to die. I still have some time left. I smile, and do what I do best. I tear through the water, swimming toward land.

My grandmother used to always tease me about how I was just like a little fish. For her, it was impossible not to make the connection. Whenever I swam, I swam underwater, and she would see my hair flash underwater just like a fish's silver scales. I feel as natural underwater as any sea creature, and on land, the term 'a fish out of water' has totally new meanings to me. I feel like I was born for the water. I was born to swim in it for all of eternity, surrounded by small fish and the slimy green weed that sways in the drift of the water. The salty air feels so right in my lungs, and whenever water surrounds me, joy flows through me. I dunk my head underwater a few times to get used to the temperature before taking a final dive, soaring near unsuspecting fish and across the underwater sand.

By the time I have finally reached the cove, I find myself completely exhausted. For a moment, I stand there, breathing heavily, feeling the adrenaline leave me. The water glides down my cheeks like tears, and I collapse onto my knees in the sand, my hands holding me up as I arch my back and take huge breaths, trying to calm myself down and make my thoughts clear enough for me to move on. I can't stay here. There is a murderer on the island, and it could be anyone. I glance under my arm, back up toward the broken window that I fell from. Fire has licked around it and onto the roof, claiming it's victory. It has the dining hall, and whoever is left inside. For a moment, a terrifying thought strikes me. What if I'm the only one left? What if the fire and the murderer has gotten everyone else. But I quickly calm down and remind myself that many people escaped, and they all headed in different directions. Many are still alive. I think of Yucca, and how I lost her, and I feel like crying. Is she still alive? She better be. I promised her protection. If she's dead, than I will forever blame myself.

After a minute or two of being frozen in that position, organizing my thoughts, I look up, and my heart leaps into my throat. Standing nearby, slightly hunched over, is a man. I recognize him immediately. On the ride here, I noticed that most of the people attending the wedding were either an older teenager or young adult. So this man stood out a bit, being of older age. Still, he could be wearing some sort of disguise or something. After all, I've never seen him before in the district. For all I know, he could be the killer, and I'm the only other one here. For a moment, My eyes widen, and I straighten my back and take a few steps away from him and toward the water. And then, for a moment, I see something. It's probably just my imagination, but I think I see my own fear reflected in those eyes. However, after I blink, it is gone, and I'm convinced it was my imagination after all. Still, I remind myself that many people were on this island, and the chance is slim that he's the murderer. He's probably suspicious of me, too, so I take a step back toward him, cautiously raising one hand. "I swear, it's not me." Tears fill my eyes. Tears of exhaustion and sorrow and fear and all kind of pain threaten to overflow. Suddenly, I just want to curl into a small ball on the ground and weep as the water erases my thoughts, my emotions, and my memories, until I am finally calm and happy. "I'd never kill anyone, I promise!"

For a moment, there is silence, and then he moves. Whether it was a step toward me, or a simple shift, I'll never know, because his foot catches on something in the sand, and he crashes down. My heart stops, and for a moment, there is nothing but me and his unmoving body on the ground. Everything else seems to just stop. Is he dead? Oh, please don't let him be dead. He's not dead. He can't be. I can't have just witnessed the death of one more person on this island. I don't want to see any more. It's worse than the Hunger Games, because that always seems like something distant, happening to someone I don't know. Here, though... here, it's real, and the worst part is, I know I could be next. For a moment, I thought I escaped death. But no, it will keep flying at me. There's no way I can escape this island without a boat, and even then, I don't know where a stupid boat is! I'm going to die here, just like the rest of them, unless someone does something. And maybe that person could use some help.

I stare at the man, unsure of whether he's alive or dead, but knowing I can't stay here any longer. I search around for some sort of escape, when a rather large wave crashes against the wall of the cove, dragging away some growth and weed and revealing a hole. I stare at it, not believing my luck. Without even looking back at the man, I make a dash for it, peeking in. I can't see the end. It's tiny, though. I might not fit. But it sure beats being here, so carefully, I stretch my arms in, following with my head and back. My feet try to grip the loose sand, so that I can push myself forward. For a few minutes, it is simply moving along inch by inch, shoving myself further and further in. Once, I even stop moving entirely, with my shoulder catching on something. But I shove myself through (cutting myself badly, but not caring) and continue to move, determined to get back on the mainland and start trying to solve the mystery of who the murderer is. I've never solved a mystery before, but I've read plenty of them. A lost necklace, a kidnapping, or even murders, like the ones that have just happened. The detective searches for clues, using all different methods. I've learned a lot from those winter nights, sitting on the couch near the lit fireplace, my bare feet curled up underneath me as I read every wonderfully written word. I followed along with the heroes of the stories, finding my own clues and suspects as the exciting story moved on. Yes, maybe I can be of some use. It would be absolutely brilliant if I could figure out who the killer is- we could work together to overpower them.

I've never been a hero before, or even someone important. I'm simply that poor girl who was orphaned twice. The girl who's obsessed with water. Ever since I was little, I've been a swimmer. Which is not uncommon in District Four. We are, after all, the fishers of the district. But there's something unnatural about my love for the water. Obsession is the word for it, really. I can't live without swimming or being close to the ocean. Even if I was born in a different district, I probably would have found a way to fall in love with water. Many have seen me wandering close to the water on summer evenings like that one, or swimming in the middle of a cold day. Some people say I'm crazy, and others say that I'm attempting to replace my lost loved ones with water. Both could be true. The thing is, I'm not sure why I'm so drawn to the ocean. Perhaps it's simply that I love the way it helps me fly when I swim underwater. Or maybe it's how absolutely, undeniably beautiful it is. Maybe it's because it seems to be so alive. It is so alive. It makes me feel so alive.

The walls of the tunnel become smooth, and it becomes wider and easier to crawl through. Soon, I see what might be light reflecting just beyond a turn, and my heart blooms with hope. I squeeze around the last twist, and use my hands to drag myself out of the tunnel. Suddenly, my hand hits a damp patch of stone, and I go gliding, crashing face first onto the ground. I give a cry of surprise and pain as the rough rock rubs painfully against my left cheekbone, and quickly twist my body around so that a land on my good shoulder. For a moment, I stare up, not understanding. Where's the blue sky? All I see is gray. Am I in another cave or cove? No, the ground is stone, but everything is too perfectly shaped. And then I recognize the shape, and the river of dirty water running through the center. I'm in a sewer, and judging by the smell, one that isn't cleaned often.

I stand up, gasping and leaning against one wall as I feel all of my wounds groan in protest. My arms are bleeding, as well as my shoulder, my face stings badly, and everything feels very sore from hitting the water full force. I close my eyes, letting everything that happened in the past fifteen minutes really sink in. I sort through my memories once more, finding fire, smoke, a fall, and pain. My heart aches for everyone who is dead- those two girls were almost certainly not the only two. To my shame, I remember my roommates for the first time. One was younger than I am. Is she still alive? And what about Yucca? Is she far away from here, gazing up at the moon, hoping to be calmed by it's pale glow? Or is she laying lifeless somewhere? Suddenly, a new thought that makes me want to puke hits. Is she the murderer? No. Yucca is too sweet and innocent to be a murderer. I want to slap myself for even thinking that.

My eyes wander around, taking in my surroundings. Finally, after a moment, I begin walking in a random direction, hoping that I'll find a way out of this place. I found and lost Yucca, saw two girls die, I freaked out because I saw fire, was almost driven insane by the smoke, cut my arms, was forced to leap out of a window, almost forgot how to swim, possibly watched a third person die, had to climb through a tiny tunnel and cut my shoulder, fell out face first, and now I'm here. Terrified, confused, bleeding, in a ton of pain, and totally lost in this disgusting sewer.

Well, I've definitely had better days.


((OOC: I am so sorry for the length. And I will color later.))