Finding Our Sanity (Rosetta)

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Stare
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and i will hold you tight / like the moon in the arms of the sky

Finding Our Sanity (Rosetta) Jan 17, 2012 19:37:27 GMT -5

Post by Stare on Jan 17, 2012 19:37:27 GMT -5

Even at dawn when the stars and the moonlight have gone,
My refrain lingers on, like a memory of love.
<><><><><><><><><><><><>

I clutch the handle around the walls of the elevator as it shoots downward, knuckles turning white as my heart races. Everything here seems too fast and too efficient in comparison to home. Home. I press my lips together anxiously when times pulls me away from reality and the soundless movement of the elevator door as it glides open, throwing me back into memories filled with melting peppermints and sunshine. These people act as if their life is going to end at any second, so they must cram as much into it as possible while they can. Back in District Five, we didn't have that. We did things the slow way, living our lives as if we were immortal. Our tasks were long and at times agonizing, but always offered a sort of pride in ourselves that the Capitolites will never feel. Freetime involved the simple things in life, like diving into the waterhole on on a heated day or going to the ice cream shop on Saturdays.

These memories, though bright and filled to the brim with love, weigh heavy on my shoulders as I step into the training center. Three days after I left and I'm still crying my eyes out every time I think of them. Luke's goodbyes have wrapped around my heart tight, guarding it from the sneers of tributes while also poisoning it with a kind of agony I can't even begin to understand. I'm late, which is no surprise- my tear stained face makes it obvious that I spent the morning self pitying myself, only eating the hard candy peppermints in the dish by my bed before deciding that I should get some training done before I enter the Arena. My throat is tight as I hold the tears in now, because I will not give the Gamemakers above the satisfaction of seeing me cry. They don't deserve my sorrow.

I drift over to the trapping station, fumbling around absentmindedly with some rope. The trainer sees me and I watch face fall in disappointment- I'm sure that I'm one of her worst students she's ever had, not because of my inability to form a proper trap, but because of my lack of enthusiasm toward success. I could accomplish a simple trap at the very least if I at least put some effort toward it, and we both know it. She begins to demonstrate one of the simplest traps she knows and I pretend to pay attention and then tie a few hopeless knots in the rope before giving up and letting her finish it for me, listing to her as she talks slowly and clearly as if she is trying to teach a four year old. She might as well be- at least a four year old would pay a fraction of attention to the meaningless words tumbling out of her lips. At some point when she is distracted trying to undo my work, I silently leave and move over toward the fire making station, which I am slightly better at.

The instuctor doesn't look any more eager to teach me than the one at the trapping station, but becomes a little more enthusiastic when I manage to create a tiny spark. It doesn't catch because I forget to blow on the char, but he treats this as if it is a huge accomplishment. Maybe he thinks that if I believe I'm doing a good job, I'll become more excited to learn the important skill. Which is probably why he looks so surprised when I throw the useless char to the ground and storm away, tears pooling in my eyes as I plunk down in the middle of the training center, ignoring everything except my tightly clenches hands that rest in my lap.

What's the point of it all? These skills... they won't do anything for me. They won't save me from the endless torture. Why do they even pretend that I might actually stand a chance? I became a skeleton child in my sister's absense and have just barely gained the strength to walk since the reaping, only doing so for my brother's sake. But we all know that I'm not going to claim that victor crown, and so these lessons are pointless. They will only prolong my death. I'll try in the Arena, for the sake of my family, but if I didn't know that they were constantly watching me on screen... well, I'd just not fight in the Bloodbath. Or maybe even step off my plate early. At least then, it would be over fast instead of agonizingly slow, which is the kind of end the majority of the tributes face. The only thing I dare hope for at this point is whoever it is ends it fast.

For Luke and Imi's sake.

[/color][/blockquote][/justify]

Rosetta
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Finding Our Sanity (Rosetta) Jan 19, 2012 20:34:25 GMT -5

Post by Rosetta on Jan 19, 2012 20:34:25 GMT -5

Lethe Turner

[/center]

Eden wouldn’t stop crying. She’d been crying since she woke up. She cried before Lethe fed her and after Lethe fed her. She cried although she hadn’t wet herself. She cried as Lethe rocked her and sang, softly, trying to calm her. Perhaps it was Lethe’s horrible voice that only kept the child crying, for her sobs only increased. And there was Lethe, on the verge of tears.

“What’s wrong with her?” Lethe cried in exasperation, more to herself than to anyone else, but still startling the Avox in the room, who straightened up hastily from smoothing the sheets. Lethe blushed, gave the boy an apologetic shake of her head to indicate that she hadn’t been speaking to him, and turned away. Eden continued to wail in her arms even as Lethe pressed her to her chest. “Quiet, Eden,” she moaned, glancing at the clock anxiously. Oh, crap…she was supposed to be down at breakfast a half an hour ago to speak to Ink and Blythe about mentoring. But, at this point, they had to be already in training…

Lethe sighed and rocked Eden again. “C’mon, baby,” she whispered, “quiet now…” Suddenly, she was regretting all the begging she’d done in order to bring Eden her, to keep her child close. But, here in the Capitol, she was that much closer to him. And she needed Eden with her. Carrying Eden inside of her seemed so much easier than this. This, caring for a living person-and not just by natural processes of her body-this was much more difficult. And it wasn’t helping that Eden kept crying!

Lethe sighed and glanced towards her bed, where the Avox was placing the outfit Lethe had taken out of the dresser, only to throw aside to attend to her child’s weeping. “Thank you,” Lethe told him graciously, over Eden’s bawling. The Avox bowed respectfully and left the room, so that Lethe could change. Slowly and carefully, Lethe set Eden down on her back on the bed, and began to change. It was a slow, weary process. Simply pulling a dress over her head took an effort. Simple actions like that always seemed to wear out, for somewhere Eden was crying, Eden was hungry, Eden had wet herself, Eden might be sleeping on her stomach and that could cause death. Lethe didn’t even tie the belt on the floaty dress she’d thrown on. Her body hadn’t yet recovered from those nine months and it was odd to see that much fat on her body.

When she’d first arrived in the Capitol and was sent to a stylist to be prepped for the Opening Ceremony, for she, as a Victor, had to look nice too, she’d run into Mel. “Take this!” Mel had said without introduction, shoving a bottle into her hands. “Rub it on those stretch marks every day. They’ll be gone in a week. Okay? Alright, see you, darling!” The solution she’d been given worked well enough, but it didn’t decrease the amount of extra fat on her body. That would take exercise and less food than she had eaten during her pregnancy, which was fine; she didn’t have much of an appetite anyway. Once dressed, Lethe gently pulled the still-crying child into a clean, pink onesie. Even dressed in nicer clothing, the child didn’t seem any happier.

Although the girl’s hair was unbrushed and she could feel the bags heavy underneath her eyes, Lethe still hurried from the room, totting Eden in her arms. Avoxes and Capitolites stared as she flew through the hallway, and she was only free from their eyes when she’d crashed into the elevator and hit the button for the bottom floor. As she rushed downward, Lethe noticed some extraordinary. Eden. She’d stopped crying as soon as the elevator started its swift descent downward and was rather staring, open-mouthed, her beautiful eyes wide in awe. For a moment, Lethe gazed at the child in awe herself, not noticing that the elevator doors had opened to let her out. Then, without hesitation, she hit the number five on the elevator and began to shoot upward again. Eden didn’t not cry. Instead, again, she watched in surprise.

The second time down, she closed her eyes. The second time up, she kept them close. By the fourth time back down, the child had fallen asleep and Lethe was able to stumble out the elevator, more exhausted than before, determined to ignore the stares from those in the lobby who’d witnessed the elevator go up and down, carrying only two occupants, one in the other’s arms. She dragged her feet towards the dining hall, only finding it empty. The training room it was.

She heard the sounds of swords clanging and shouting before she saw it and when she did, she stopped in the doorway. An invisible force held her back, knit by blind girls and mothers who met in a corner. Cleverly crafted by trembling limbs, watery eyes and the most prominent, deep and unmasked fear. Fear that reached down to the heart, stimulating its rate and then into the brain, drawing forth the terrible words, I’m going to die. Lethe found her couldn’t enter that room. Not back there. Not where she’d been drawn to those two girls, only to be so cruelly torn away from them. Still gently holding Eden in her arms, Lethe’s eyes searched through the room until they found Ink, the most prominent person there. Sitting, right smack in the middle of the room. Doing nothing.

In truth, Lethe couldn’t blame her. Hadn’t she found herself huddled in some corner? Training could certainly be stressful, horrifying even. She couldn’t blame Ink at all. And if Ink wasn’t going to participate, why not talk to her now? Might as well talk to her while she still had a chance. Because in a week’s time, the girl may be dead. “Ink!”= Lethe cried, using her free arm to wave the girl over. “Come here!”[/size][/color][/blockquote]

Last Edit: Jan 19, 2012 20:36:20 GMT -5 by Rosetta

^^Made by the excellent Shrimp!

Stare
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and i will hold you tight / like the moon in the arms of the sky

Finding Our Sanity (Rosetta) Jan 21, 2012 13:09:02 GMT -5

Post by Stare on Jan 21, 2012 13:09:02 GMT -5

They say what doesn't kill you can make you strong.
Now I know what it means.
You can try to bend but you ain't breaking my dreams.
<><><><><><><><><><><><>

Somewhere, at some point in my sorrow, a name echoes. I would have gladly ignored it if the name hadn't been my own and the voice vaguely familiar. My head slowly rose from it's determinedly defeated position, automatically responding. My eyes search around the area, searching for one of my instuctors or maybe even a tribute gesturing me over. Seeing all of them ignoring me, I frown in confusion. I'm certain I heard it, unless I am alread losing my delicate grip on the sanity I was so determined to keep when I last saw Luke. But then I see her, looking directly at me, with the echo of my name still lingering on her lips. She gestures me over, and I bite my lip in uncertainty.

Lethe Turner. I, of course, remember her, for she won the Games only a two years ago. She was the District Five female tribute, and she brought great joy to us to finally have a victor. I cannot remember another tribute from our district who won the Games, though I'm sure that there probably is one or two. But Lethe had a memory disorder or something similar- I specifically remember. And she befriended some sort of reptile or amphibian in the Arena. I remember admiring her on the T.V. as she stood victoriously at the very end, feeling pride welling up within me even though I never knew this girl before she was reaped. District Five had a victor. But that moment of celebration in our home seems a million years ago and a thousand miles away. That was before everything changed when my own name was called in the exact same way that she says it now. Before my life was stolen away from me by the Capitol. Before I fell to pieces before all of Panem.

Surely the district is now disappointed that they have to cheer on this mess of a tribute for the Quell. Last year's female tribute, Sundra, made it to the final four. It had seemed that the girls of District Five were doing good... until I was reaped. A pathetic little mess, with more tears than I know what to do with and absolutely no determination to win. Oh, sure, they are cheering for me. But behind plastic smiles are distress and disgust, for how could I ever win? I am falling apart on the inside and out, with no victorious qualities within me. Lethe probably sees this, too, and is only calling me over to seem nice. Im sure that on the inside, she is just as sure as the rest of them that I will fall.

Slowly, mechanically, I stand, brushing away a few tears and stumbling over to join her with a smile plastered onto my face. I do not want to speak with this victor who surely sees I am destined to fail. What will she say? That I need to train in order to win? That I shouldn't be showing my weakness so openly? I already know these things and ignore them all the same. These are my last few days alive- why should I spend my time filling them with a greater amount of pain that they already hold? I don't want to pretend that I have a chance. I don't want to tell myself I can win only to be disappointed in the end when I don't. I've hidden behind fake smiles and a positive outlook on life for too long. The only thing it did was tear me away from my twin and make the pain more intense when I could feel it.

When I arrive at her side, I am unsure what to do. This girl is a victor who has fought against all odds and survived. Should I shake her hand? Hug her? Tell her what a cute baby she has? Congratulate her? But I find I can do none of the above, and instead I stand stiffly apart from her. "You called my name?"

It's just no good, playing pretend for so long. Hiding from the truth for so long has only caused me more agony when reality hit me. And why should I continue a game that only hurts? Why don't I just give up while I still can? At least then, in my final moments, I'll be able to say that I saw the world clearly instead of through the fog of my own lies and false reassurances.

[/justify][/size][/color]

Rosetta
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Finding Our Sanity (Rosetta) Jan 21, 2012 17:01:56 GMT -5

Post by Rosetta on Jan 21, 2012 17:01:56 GMT -5

Lethe Turner

[/center]

Ink was beautiful. That's what struck Lethe. She reminded her with Anya. Anya was gorgeous, a masterpiece, just like her child. Anya was more than gorgeous, really. And it was a shame to see something so lovely so broken, destroyed so quickly. Now, that beautiful girl lay rotting in some grave, a place she didn't deserve to be.

It would be awful to see Ink be destroyed herself, packed away in a wooden box...unless the girl won, that is. But, the odds were not with her. Ink was a mess. A crying, trembling mess. Not even Lethe would put money on her. But, who was Lethe to talk? She'd been the same way, with no sponsor gifts and yet, she'd still won. Of course, she had had Camalia to keep her company, whom, from her perch on Lethe's shoulder, now licked her face, as if reminding Lethe that she was there. As the girl glided towards her, Lethe could feel Anya's aura washing over, the souls of two mothers intertwining together. Two years and none of those twenty three kids have left her yet.

“You called my name?"

“Yes,” Lethe nodded, her face hot, “I’m sorry I couldn’t talk to you this morning. It was Eden, you know…” She rocked the sleeping child gently and pulled her closer to her chest. At this, Camalia licked her face again. Ever since Lethe had had Eden, Camalia had been trying to command as much attention as possible, clinging to Lethe as if she were afraid Lethe was replacing her. That’s probably what she thought. But, Lethe would never replace Camalia, ever since how much Camalia had helped her. She credited the lizard with helping her keep her sanity, being her companion. Or perhaps she wasn’t being sane at all and the lizard just kept her from being lonely. Either way, she loved Camalia and Eden just the same.

“So, I’m your mentor and…” Lethe paused. She’d rushed down here to talk to Ink, but now she wasn’t sure what to say. What had she said last time to Sundra and Arden? Oh, wait, it didn’t matter. They’d died anyway.

What do you say to a person condemned to death? Don’t die? Try not to die? What did that do? All that did was cause more anxiety. How had Lethe won the Games? Luck? Was she just supposed to tell Ink to be lucky and hope she doesn’t end up with a spear in her head? No…what had Lethe done? Camalia licked her face again, pulling her back into the moment. To cover up her hesitation, Lethe cleared her throat and rocked Eden some more.

“So, Ink,” she began again, shifting from one foot to the other, “do you have any special skills? I mean-” Lethe giggled nervously, and quickly creased her forehead as Eden’s nose crinkled. Please don’t wake up, Lethe thought desperately and her thoughts went through, for Eden’s facial expression faded again into one of peace. “I mean,” Lethe said again with a small shrug, “if you don’t, that’s perfectly fine too. You can easily learn anything. I just need to know if you do.” Lethe’s eyes glanced over her shoulder and spied the other tributes, struggling through stations or shining with their skill. “And is there anyone you want to all-” Lethe stopped short for a confused moment, her mouth still hanging open. That’s right…the new rule…

No alliances. It was almost frightening, really. Lethe couldn’t imagine not having her allies by her side. She would’ve been gone in an instant, in the Cornucopia. She would’ve been a easy target, but it was Anya who’d made it so she wasn’t. Anya had helped her through the bloodbath at the Cornucopia, escaping with a lot of items and little wounds. Anya practically played the part of a human shield later when they’d returned only to be attacked by a mutt. If Lethe was alone, that fatal blow might’ve been on her head, literally. Saskia and Razor had helped her through a lot of the Games, despite her mistrust of Razor. Saskia was a great friend to, someone who understand her, someone she could relate to. And when it had come down to it, Razor had left her alone after she freed him from that Latch Crab. He hadn’t attacked here then…all that had happened in the end of the Games was just instinct. The monsters had crept out of their chests. They wanted to survive. And Lethe had.

“That new rule is rough…” Lethe muttered. “You’re on your own then…” She wasn’t exactly speaking to Ink, but musing it in her head. She’d be dead, rotting in a grave had she not had an ally. She’d be gone, not standing before Ink right now and trying to instruct her. The thought sent chills up and down her spine and suddenly, Lethe was extremely grateful to have Camalia on her shoulder and Eden in arms. She was safe with them. She had them. “Listen, Ink. If you have no ally, you need some way to get help. Sponsors, unless you can, you know, take care of yourself. Anything you can tell me? Anything at all?”

Lethe could see Ink as a Victor, the sight glowing in her mind. And she could Ink dead, her blood dribbling out of her like water. She could see Ink standing next to her, helping her tell the future tribute girl what to do. She could see the funeral procession, the wooden box held up by six silent, blank-faced men. She could see the crown on the girl’s head, the blood on her face. She could see it all.

The only thing she couldn’t see was which one it will be.[/color][/size][/blockquote]

^^Made by the excellent Shrimp!

Stare
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and i will hold you tight / like the moon in the arms of the sky

Finding Our Sanity (Rosetta) Jan 21, 2012 22:00:44 GMT -5

Post by Stare on Jan 21, 2012 22:00:44 GMT -5

You saw the storm clouds rising
When I still had my dream.
It's been so dark since your away.
<><><><><><><><><><><><>

Throw me a thread in this icy place and I will ignore it, for who in their right mind would dangle over the immeasurable inky depths of hope clinging only to one single silky string?

I remember when I used to be insane enough to try. I remember when I allowed those whisps of possibilites blur the line between fantasy and reality, kindling my heart with false warmth that only left me half frozen when it left. When one has hit the cold, lifeless place that I have been banished to, they tend to think that nothing get worse. But oh, it can get so much worse. Instead of being perched on a ledge over insanity, I could be led by impossible hopes to dive headfirst into it. The only thing that keeps me from doing so now is my own experience that the flames reflecting a bright future isn't real and never will be, no matter how long I chase them seeking that burning warmth. I want to feel again- this frost that has slipped into my bloodstream is indefinitely unwelcome, and has never been a pleasant experience. But I have learned that it is all that keeps me from going mad, and so I will greet it with open arms rather than tripping over my own feet as I seek comfort where I will never find it.

Her words are just more ways for me to hurt myself. More paths that I can run down that only lead to dead ends and tears. They give me a hope that I am not allowed to feel and quickly shut out. Because I'm afraid, because I don't want her words that make it sound as if I might actually have a chance. I know the other tributes are desperately fighting (and losing) the battle against hopelessness. Single untrained soldiers against an entire army of darkness, they don't stand a chance. But I am a scarred, experienced warrior. I know that in this world, there is no chance of winning. One can either go quietly or go screaming, and frankly, the former is just less painful. That is why, among all the hard, determined faces, I have already given up. It'll be easier for everyone that way.

But somehow I feel that Lethe won't accept that as an answer. Either that, or I'm just afraid that I'll break her if I dump all of my troubles on this poor girl. Though a victor, Lethe has a subtle feeling of delicacy about her that alerts me to the fact that she has enough on her mind as it is without the burden a tribute who refuses to feel hope. I should play along in this game of pretend, for her sake.

But strengths? What strengths do I have? Well, obviously no physical ones. I've put new meaning to the phrase "skin and bones", as everyone knows. And I am, quite clearly, a mess as far as my mind goes. I suppose I could tell her that I have a reason to fight. Four reasons, in fact, waiting for me at home, staring at me on the glowing T.V. screen. But for how long will that be enough? Love is strong, but in the nightmarish Arena, it will be all but nonexistant. A thing that was but no longer is. That feeling that belonged to that other Ink, the one who happily lived in District Five.

"My sanity," I say, unable to think of any other strengths I could tell her of. "My sanity is the only thing I'll have in the Arena."

[/justify][/color]

Rosetta
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Finding Our Sanity (Rosetta) Jan 24, 2012 15:03:47 GMT -5

Post by Rosetta on Jan 24, 2012 15:03:47 GMT -5

Lethe Turner

[/center]

"My sanity, my sanity is the only thing I'll have in the Arena."

Lethe, who had been stroking Camalia’s smooth back, whilst rocking Eden with the other arm, froze. Sanity? The word was a word that had been rattling around in her brain for two years. Sanity? The word was usually shortened and paired with “in.” Insane. The girl who spoke to a lizard, the girl who faced horrors far too grotesque for others to even begin to imagine. She had heard it speculated.

Even before all this, they’d wondered.

Before they realized her condition. Lethe remembered the doctors approaching her, asking her the questions, heard her timid answers quivering in the air in between them. This girl couldn’t recognize her own mother. What was wrong with her? Was she some crazy? Did she need to be locked away? What was wrong with her?

Please sir, tell me what’s wrong with my daughter.

Her parents had begged for answers, asked doctors over and over, but they all said the same thing: she’s not crazy. There’s something else. They never learned the name and to this day, Lethe didn’t know what she had had. It was her “condition.” Nameless, terrifying, so filled to the brim with questions, it left Lethe up at night. Could this kill her? Get worse until she couldn’t even recognize simple objects? Her horses? Would she just waste away, her memory going next, until she, like her great-grandmother before she died, would have to be spoon-fed and spoken to in soft voices?

And through it all, life had to go on. She continued in school, continued waking up every morning in horror. Days were spent screaming, scratching her face until bloody trails were left behind. They always closed up on their own, but really only to be broken open again. She was terrified of the world around her. They were all faceless. A pool of white and she was floating on the surface, unable to break through. Who were they all? What did they want with her?

It was a wonder she kept her sanity then.

But, then again, perhaps that was what began to uproot her.

The Games came next. Her name was what started it all and it was her name that still frightened her. Unimaginable horrors. Days spent watching blood fall around her for the earth to drink up. Pain far beyond anything she’d felt before came for her now. Friendships severed, lives destroyed. Lethe watched their souls drift away from her, just as she watched their death blows. She felt the knot tighten in her gut each time a face would illuminate the sky, only to fade away in another instant, never to grace this planet again. Just gone…

And it was her, Lethe Turner, to rise victorious in the end. That’s when everything changed. Suddenly, everything was clear. The fog had cleared and the world was no longer a scary place. But, now it was her. She was terrified of herself.

And rightfully so. She was a monster. A monster who’d clawed her way to the top, clawing up a pile of twenty four dead bodies until she was the queen, crowned so. She was an evil thing. A terrible thing. Feared even by her. She couldn’t even look herself in the face in the mirror. She knew what lurked behind those wide, green eyes and innocent expression marked by a gaping mouth, trembling lips and a creased forehead. She wasn’t that girl. That girl was a cover. A mask worn over the beast.

She hated herself.

She felt it brewing deep inside of her, felt it, venom in her blood, pumping through her body. Sanity? What a joke. It took all of her strength not to laugh in this girl’s face. Sanity? What sanity? You just wait, wait until their blood is running over your shoes, their last screams are bouncing around in your ears and then you’ll know. You’ll lose it in a second. Ink was weak and Lethe knew it. As horrible as it was to think it, she knew. Ink was weak. The tears in her eyes told her so. She wouldn’t make it like that.

If she didn’t succumb to a single blow, her own mind would destroy her.

The mind was a terrible thing. It was deep within you, eating you from the inside out. It supplied the poison and you were the one to administer it. It tore open the inner workings of what made you, well, you. Then, what were you? Just a question, dangling in mid-air. The mind could grind you down into nothing more than a trembling, blind entity. And Lethe could already see it in Ink. She could be gone in an instant, but not dead. No, she could become that empty husk, forever without answers.

And if she won, would Lethe not only fear herself, but her too? She didn’t fear the other Victors, merely skirted around them without a word. But, Ink, she was different. She was like Lethe. A weak, quivering mass…

In the few seconds she’d stood there, her mind racing, Eden had awoken. It seemed the child’s duty to, every time she woke, open her mouth and let her sobs continue. Jolting Lethe from her thoughts, the mother instantly groaned softly as she began to rock Eden. “Sh, sh,” she begged quietly, as Eden’s red-face screwed up and tears ran down from her eyes, “go back to sleep, baby.” In frustration, her own cheeks reddening, Lethe looked up at Ink and tried to smile apologetically. But, there was really nothing to smile about.

“Sorry about her,” she apologized over Eden’s crying. For a moment, Lethe masked her inability to answer Ink by focusing all her attention on Eden, shushing her softly. What was she supposed to say to Ink? Too bad, you’ll lose your sanity anyway? Laugh? In the end, Lethe, now patting Eden’s back, to burp the child, decided not to address Ink’s words at all. “I’d suggest learning a new skill,” she told the tribute, trying not to think about how she was speaking to a future empty body. “Like a fighting skill…or, you know, some kind of survival skill.”

And if there were a station about luck, whilst clinging to the entity of one’s self, Lethe would’ve told her to take that one, too. But, of course, there weren’t such things.

Leaving them both out of luck.[/color][/size][/blockquote]

^^Made by the excellent Shrimp!

Stare
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and i will hold you tight / like the moon in the arms of the sky

Finding Our Sanity (Rosetta) Jan 26, 2012 17:57:42 GMT -5

Post by Stare on Jan 26, 2012 17:57:42 GMT -5

Drip, drop,
When will my teardrops stop?
<><><><><><><><><><><><>

It's just a flash. A single instant before her head bends down to attend to the child she cradles in her arms. But I catch it- after years spent in the popular crowd, I have to be fast when trying to find real emotions. And I instantly recognize what I see there. Doubt. Perhaps even a hint of anger. And maybe she's right- maybe I already have lost my sanity. But she must have at some point been just like me, helpless and hopeless and without the slightest chance. She's been here before and she should know what it's like to think that you have your sanity, to cling to it because it's the only thing you have left and you just know that you'll be losing it soon, so you should enjoy it while it lasts. I press my lips together tightly and say nothing about her reaction, though I feel like crying all over again. How much more hopeless can I become? Even my mentor thinks my cause is a lost one. And yet, I find I can't be mad at her.

Because we both know that I'm a goner, whether she'll admit it or not.

I look down at the young child she holds. The face is bright red with tears squeezing their way out from tightly closed eyelids, and I don't think I've ever heard anything as loud as this child's desperate screams. My eyes soften and I actually manage a smile, because this baby is something fresh and new and untouched by the Capitol's cruel fingers. A little ray of sunshine in this dark, cloudy world. Is this what I was like when I was a baby? Is that what Luke saw when he peeked into my cradle? And then all at once I am drawing back a step, closing the shutters because I don't want to think about Luke or Imi right now. Or at least, not their old selves, when the three of us were all innocent and Luke was a respectable person and Imi and I were best friends. That's the true danger zone- slipping back into the memories of the before until I lose my grasp on reality completely.

Instead, I focus on now, and what she's saying. Learn a new skill. Train. Act like I actually care. After all, don't I want to get home? Well, of course I do. But that's a fantasy that will lead me down a road to disaster- I don't want to pretend that everything's going to be alright. I did that when Luke left. Spent hours sitting in a creaking wooden chair in front of the screen door while the icy air that managed to creep into the house chilled me to the bone. Waiting, acting like he would be running down the dust road any second with apologies spilling out of his lips and that familiar, bright look in his eyes. And even when they dragged me away from the door and sent me to school for all those agonizing years, I still believed that in some point in time, he would come home. Because he couldn't be dead. He just couldn't be. And then... and then I found him. And I begged for those apologies with tears and searched for that light, the one that always came to life in his eyes when he saw Imi and I. Only it wasn't there. Luke may have been right in front of me, but my brother was long gone.

And that was when I truly stopped pretending.

Why can't fantasies ever come true? Whatever happened to happily ever after? Just once in my life I want things to be okay. For there to be true happiness. I don't want to always feel Luke's absence- I don't want to feel the horrible weight that always rests on my shoulders. Why can't life be perfect, just once? Maybe because it already was, way back when. During those days of sunshine and ice cream, things sure felt perfect. Maybe I've already had my share of perfection and that's why Fate decided to take it away from my life completely. And then that wasn't enough, so I got reaped, too. Cutting my life shorter would pay off my debts nicely, wouldn't it?

"I don't want to train," I say quietly. "I know what's going to happen to me in that Arena and no amount of training they offer here is ever going to prevent that. I don't want... I don't want to act like everything will turn out perfectly if I just try, because I know it won't. I've played that game before, and the outcome is never good." I bite my bottom lip because the tears are threatening me again, but then I force them down and look her in the eyes as best as I can when I know that one is unseeing. "I appreciate what you're trying to do for me. I really do. But just once in this horrible place where nothing is right or real, I need someone to be honest with me. Please?"

Because the fantasies are pretty, but they always burn you in the end.

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