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arx!!
Retired Staff

2,484 POSTS

Pronouns: she/her
last seen Nov 15, 2024 1:49:42 GMT -5

literally so gay, doing so many crimes

Flare```[OPEN] Mar 27, 2012 17:12:06 GMT -5

Post by arx!! on Mar 27, 2012 17:12:06 GMT -5

<><> Lily Tanners - Who am I?

My eyes ache. I don't know why, but it seems that my eyes never want to open, like I am never supposed to see. But everyday I force them open and force myself to sit up in my bed and force myself to think and force myself to at least attempt to brush my hair and take a shower. But the world seems so dark and empty even when the sun shines through the shutters in my room or children laugh in the street or birds twitter their songs through my window. Even on those days, it is still dark. It sometimes makes you wonder if you are dead with it being so dark everyday. And then when you feel pain and bleed red like the rest of the world you wonder if maybe it is a nightmare. And then when you remember waking up and find that you still live in a place called Panem where all you here about and the Hunger Games and all the previous victors you know that you are still alive. I am still alive. Sadly.

The carpet on my bedroom floor somewhat soothes me when my feet press against it. But only somewhat. I walk to the mirror, wishing that somehow I could avoid what I would see there. But when I glance into the mirror, it is still me. Not a monster, but close enough to it. I rub my eyes, hoping that maybe today I could change my appearance enough that I wouldn't have to deal with my brother all day. But nothing changes. I still look like her enough that my brother will think I'm her, just like he does every single day. I reach down and open the cabinet beneath my mirror. Pictures of multiple different models with different colored hair smile at me, their unnatural skin tones making them look sick rather than appealing - at least to me - and everyone of them seems to be screaming at me to try them out. But I can only hear my father screaming, feel his fist clamped on my hair ... I slam the cupboard shut and spin on my heals in anger. It takes me a few seconds to realize that my fists are clenched and as I reach the door I make sure to loosen up. I feel myself give a heavy sigh. But at what? I have been doing this shit for so long, you'd think I would be used to it by now. But my frustration is unmistakable and by the time I reach up for the doorknob, I feel my face growing hot and eyes flooding with liquid. As I twist the doorknob I make sure to wipe away any sign of weakness from my face. No one cares anyway.

I am immediately hit in the face by the familiar smell of alcohol. I am tempted to cough and splutter, but then I remember that I am used to the smell, that its familiarity has a sort of soothing effect on me. The living room looks as it usually does, if not worse. Cups and bottles scattered everywhere, the occasional stain in the white carpet, and of course, my dad laying face down on the couch. His snoring is enough to piss you off, as if the smell of him wasn't enough. As I walk by, I have the slightest temptation to spit in his face, to wake him from his stupor - But then I remember a little fact. He scares me. I walk past him, into the kitchen, and then upstairs to my brothers room. I open the door, trying not to cause the hinges to squeak and pray that he is still asleep. I see him turned over in bed, his arms flailing across the bed. So innocent, so hard to hate. I close the door again, not wanting my day to start just yet. Maybe - just maybe - if I let him dream and sleep a little bit longer, I can walk in his room and be his sister. But everyday that flare of hope I get when he opens his eyes diminishes and is crushed. Everyday.

I run back down to my room and dress myself in clothes that hide my bruises and lumps and make me look somewhat normal. As I walk back into the living room, I can't help but notice my dad - not there. I look around, frantic and hoping that he is still passed out or at least disoriented enough to not care what I do. But before I can find him, my urges to leave the house are too great and before I realize it, I am outside. District 2. I walk down the streets, trying to keep myself from looking to dazed, confused, worried, or overjoyed for that matter because I fear being caught by someone and asked useless questions. Like my name. How do I answer a question like that?

Lily Tanners or Lethe Turner?

My eyes flicker up and down the streets. So many people going to work or going to school or chatting with friends ... I don't have that. I feel like a black sheep in the crowd of white sheep. Actually, I feel like the black sheep in the crowd of pure white bulls. I haven't been to school in so long and I don't think I ever really had friends and everyone around me seems to have a mission and goal for the day; Whether that goal is to be the Capitol's perfect pet or just live through the day without attempting suicide I'm not exactly sure. But they all seem to be aiming for something, where as I am wandering aimlessly through the sea of white bulls unable to think of what to do. The sun, the lights, the gleaming streets - Overwhelming for someone who has been basically trapped in a cell for ... What has it been now? Years?

Damn ... What can a girl like me do?

"I run on the road, long before I dance under the lights."

cass
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4,822 POSTS

last seen Oct 24, 2021 18:11:43 GMT -5

Flare```[OPEN] Apr 2, 2012 6:51:05 GMT -5

Post by cass on Apr 2, 2012 6:51:05 GMT -5

--Saphira Stone--

Hope it is a funny word, so many people rely on it, and yet if you put hope into too much it can destroy you, it can cause so much pain. I don’t like hope. It is just a word that is thrown around one that means nothing anymore, a word that some just cling to for support, but it is like any wall, lean against it, and someday it might collapse. Hope can disappear just like that, all it takes is a word, a thought, a memory, just one slight glance, a flicker of the eyes and all hope can flee, running with its tail between its legs, like the most cowardly of people. It was useless; there was no point in it. Hope was like a double bladed knife, you can get cut down both ways, and no matter how much you try to be careful, or no matter how little hope you have, when it is all gone, you still feel disappointed.

I had hope.

Then I lost it all. I no longer rely on the made up stuff, that can keep you determined, that can lead you the right way or can make everything fall together and work just right. Why would I? It is just blind faith, and not even faith has kept me rooted, or along the way that I want to go. I’ve lost everything that I feel or want I no longer want to look after my little brother. He just drains everything out of me, his continuous rants and poundings, his little bashings whenever I tried to help. I couldn’t hit him. All I could do was let him. Autism. It destroyed his life, his family left him. I found him and now… I have lost all hope in him.

[/i] I’m tired of being the babysitter the one to do everything. My father does nothing, but watch as I struggle to pull together the ruins of my life, as I place the pieces of the puzzle that seems to be all wrong. I feel lost. I have nowhere to go anymore.

I eye the empty halls of my house, peering through the slight crack in my bedroom door. I had been reduced to slyness, to the idea of sneaking out. I couldn’t be caught and dragged back into caring for that boy, I wanted out, I wanted freedom. I was tired and felt alone. I was stuck in a circle, my life was a circle I had no way out, no escape from this place. Sometimes I would just lie on my bed and cry, just let it all out in a flood of tears that would stain my pillows and blankets and would run down my face and drop slowly everywhere. They never seemed to end in those times, and in those times I felt as if I had some grasp on sanity, if only small. I could feel the end of my candle, my hope flicker, fighting against the oncoming rain. But it always died. I always flickered and went out, my hope never lived long. Whenever I tried to leave and escape my father would always catch me. He never let me go. Like a mouse being hunted by a cat, he would watch and wait. Like an eagle hunting its prey he would watch and wait, stop me as I left pulling me back to my prison.[/i]

The carpet felt cool beneath my bare feet, as I slide across the ground as silent as I could. The pictures on the wall glared at me, and I cowered away from them. I felt as if silent eyes were watching me, but as I glanced back I saw nothing, but the shadows that seemed to swallow the rest of the hall. They protruded from the deepest corners like beckoning fingers, thirsty hungry for me. They wanted to pull me back.[/i] I moved faster away from the shadows. Before they could catch me. I take the stairs two at a time no longer caring for silence, all I wanted was freedom, the space to do as I willed. The time to do what I wanted to care for me. To be me. I despised my mother. She had it all, she had gotten away a year after I found my brother. She had given up.[/i] I could safely say she had left, ditched us for her own good. She had never had the strength. But as I passed the kitchen, and the figure of my father I realised, maybe it was because she was strong. Maybe she had the will to leave. As my eyes take in the defeated man in front of me, I know I’m right. He never had the will to leave. He never had the strength.

It stops me short and I briefly hesitate in front of him, his back turned facing the window in front of the sink. I bit my lip knowing this was my only opportunity, knowing that if I said anything he would take me away, back to my prison. I take a step forward, catching myself before I get to close. I wanted freedom. My eyes flicker to the door. The only escape from here. The only way to get out. I walk away. My hand hesitates slightly at the handle but I open it. I pull it open on silent hinges, placing a glimmer of hope, hope that the door would make no sound. Hope that finally it would all change. I wanted hope, but it seemed to slide from my grasp every time. For once it didn’t. The door opened with no sound and I followed it out into the street. Just before I close the door I glimpse the frail frame of my father.

”I’m sorry.” I murmur, before closing the door and walking away.

The air was cold and I felt myself shiver. It was so unsual feeling the sting of the cold air, and the way slight goosebumps leapt onto my skin. It felt odd not real. It had been so long since I had felt cold, since I had felt anything but pain and sadness. Slowly a smile creeps onto my face as I breathe in the cool crisp air, I suddenly feel rejuvinated and fresh. The cold hard stone beneath my skin tug painfully into my feet, but I didn't mind, the pain was a welcome relief a reminder of my home. I spin in a circle taking in at all, the streets, the people and the way the birds flew across the sky. I didn't know I could miss it all this much.[/i][/blockquote][/justify][/size]

Last Edit: May 4, 2012 3:06:52 GMT -5 by cass

arx!!
Retired Staff

2,484 POSTS

Pronouns: she/her
last seen Nov 15, 2024 1:49:42 GMT -5

literally so gay, doing so many crimes

Flare```[OPEN] Apr 14, 2012 11:32:09 GMT -5

Post by arx!! on Apr 14, 2012 11:32:09 GMT -5

<> Lily Tanners - Who am I?

My eyes flitter across the streets, the way a small child's might on their first day in the city, and I can't help but remember my first time out here. I was little, maybe 3 or 4 years old, and I was all dressed up for school. My mother always insisted I was cute as a button but when I look upon myself these days I'm just not sure it was ever true. But that day, back when I was innocent and my name was still Lily I suppose I could've been cute - I guess all children are though. I remember holding my mothers hand, having to reach up for it and she would slow her pace down so that I could keep up. And my dad had my other hand, his had nearly swallowing mine whole, but he still had the gentleness of a plush teddy bear. Between them both my arms were raised high above my head and every so often my feet would miss the ground and I would be held between them, floating like dandelion seed on the breeze. They were both smiling, laughing when I asked silly questions and eager to teach their only daughter the way the world worked. And when the teachers whispered about my abilities and told them I should move up a grade level in school, they beamed and their pride was so evident that I didn't know a life without proud parents until my mom left and my dad started drinking - and that only happened when my brother was born.

I walk past a winery of some sort and can't help but stare at the different colors of intoxicating liquids. My hand almost reaches for the door handle and then I ignore the urge. I don't really want to get drunk today - Not when my father can find me and scold me for my stupidity or something like that. I have enough issues right now as it is without him becoming more angered over me being drunk. Lately my dad has been telling me I need a kid. "You know, like that baby girl Lethe has." Luckily his drunken stupors cause him to forget most everything he says - but still, I am worried. My brother keeps asking to see her, Eden. I keep having to lie and tell him she is sleeping in the other room ... But, my life is a whole big lie so what is the difference in lying about having a child? Obviously my father thinks I need the kid to please his 'oh so precious' son and make this whole 'Hey I'm the victor from District 5' thing completely believable. And the truth of the matter is I am terrified.

I am afraid of what is to come when my brother throws a fit because he never gets to see baby Eden. And I am scared of what my father might choose to do, or make me do, or whatever. I turn away from the colorful wine bottles and instead continue to walk down the street, trying hard to push the fearful thoughts from my skull. I won't let him - I can't let him ruin my life anymore than he already has - but who? My brother or my dad? Which one is ruining my life, or is it neither? Maybe I am the only one controlling my life. Maybe I have brought this upon myself. As I rack my brain I crash into someone. I quickly apologize, and the guy walks on without a word, not worried about anything but getting somewhere on time. I wish my worries only included my schedule and where I had to be on time and worthless things like that. Instead my life is consumed by pretending to be someone I am not, avoiding my father when he is awake, and of course trying to maintain who I truly am - Lily Tanners, the smartest girl there could ever be. Or that's who I think I am expected - was expected - to be. But now all I am is a toy for my brother to admire, a dull object that - in his eyes - shines brighter than any gem in the world.

The streets are beginning to empty and everyone is disappearing into the various shops and schools and mine entrances and whatever else there is around District 2. The streets become sparser and sparser and I yearn to see them completely empty, no disturbances. Maybe then I will have time to think and decide for myself what I would like to do without Lethe telling me what she wants or thinks or feels ... Damn it. I hate being her. I hate the charade I am forced to play in order to please my brother - all because of a promise I cannot break.

Anger is fueling my every step and blinding me with memories and before I realize it I am walking straight into spinning arms that hit me in the face and cause me to fall to my back where I lay stunned and in pain on the gravel ground. I feel exasperated gasps of pain leave my body and then of course embarrassment that I just let myself walk into someone without even noticing. I bring my hand to my face where everything has begun to sting and find that when I pull my hand away my nose is bleeding. I sit up, trying to wipe it away and manage to mutter a quick, "Sorry." before I get to my feet, holding my nose in the hopes that it isn't broken or something like that. I look beat up enough as it is.

"I run on the road, long before I dance under the lights."

cass
Retired Staff

4,822 POSTS

last seen Oct 24, 2021 18:11:43 GMT -5

Flare```[OPEN] May 4, 2012 3:04:43 GMT -5

Post by cass on May 4, 2012 3:04:43 GMT -5

--Saphira Stone--
Pain is a simple Compromise`

[/size][/font]
- - - - - - - - - - -

Family

-- so many have told me is important. They say it is what can make so many get through the tough times, it can make even the unbearable seem somewhat pleasant. Family as I have been told is something to cherish, something so many want and would do anything for. Sometimes I wish I could think that. That maybe when I get home everything will be normal. But for now I was happy. For now memories of my home and the family that I had fled my mind, leaving me and making a smile slowly play across my lips.

For once in a long time I felt the muscles in my body relax, and my steps began to move in a rhythmic motion, just how they once did, as they did when I use to dance my way through life, the time in which dancing was everything to me, I was like myself again. The smile that had just played on my lips now blossomed from them and raced through my face, through me and into each step, my steps soon turned into something like music. The way ones body moves to a song but these steps- dances moves- moved to my song.

The ground was cold beneath my feet, as I flitted and danced along the ice that flecked the road. The cold bit into my feet and ran up my legs, but I felt no pain, just a joy at feeling the world around me, and not being stuck back in my house. Because no matter what they all said that place was not a home, a home was not somewhere you feared, and wanted to run from. Was a home not meant to be the place you felt happiest? My family didn’t make me smile when I saw them, if anything I felt the opposite, I wanted to hide and run from them.

My family lit up when they saw me though, my father would smile and be happy, glad and peaceful that I was home, there to talk over the job he hated. I was his respite, release. He loved me for the happiness I would give him, the escape I always brang him. I had no say in it. I had no word in my treatment or what I had to do, when I was not at school I was his slave, bent to the mans will. It didn’t mean that I didn’t love him. I did, I had to love him. That man was all I had. Ever since Dave became unbearable, ever since my little brother had sank deeper into his disability our lives had been ruled by him and his needs.

In a way I hated that little boy. I wanted to kill him.

The thought pulls me up short. I stop my movement and just stand there in the middle of the street. I stare out and look around me, but I wasn’t seeing my district, and the tattered ground around me, I wasn’t seeing the place I lived in. I saw my room and the little boy, my brother. I saw a knife in my hand and myself peering over him. Just one movement and it would all be over. I wouldn’t have to suffer in silent agony. I wouldn’t have to creep and run from my own house. I would be free. But I wasn’t the murdering type.

I snort at that. Murder, that was all this place was, that was what I was trained to do, and I couldn’t even kill the boy that made my life unbearable. Was I that weak? No, I don’t think I was weak, I wasn’t, I just couldn’t murder someone so innocent, a boy that had suffered all his life… a boy that was making me suffer, and it would all just be so easy, so simple, while he slept, just say it was an accident, the boy was made, they’d all believe you. No one could blame it on you.

”Stop it Saph. You’re not killing him.” I scowl. I was talking to myself, now I was going mad as well as delusional. I turn my eyes back to the ground. The small rocks jabbed into my feet, and a little bit of a weed stuck out between one of my toes. I roll my foot revealing a very sad looking weed. The leaves were crushed and bent in awkward positions. There I had killed a weed. The thought made me laugh, I let the sound escape my lips and enter the spoken realm. My eyes linger a moment longer on the deformed plant. Killing wasn’t that hard. That weed had just needed a light tap. That was all. Dave was as stupid and weak as the plant. Just a slight push, in the wrong direction… so simpl-

My foot slams down onto the plant. No, no, no. I wasn’t going to hurt him or touch him.

I look up in time to see a flurry of a body, then suddenly I’m flying onto the ground. My head smacks against the ground and I let out a slight gasp. I lay there for a moment stunned before turning my eyes to a girl who staggered slightly ion the ground her hand pressed firmly to her nose. ”Sorry.” She blurts out. I slowly get up, a memory tugging at the edge of my mind, this girl reminded me of a similar girl, we meet because she feel other and broke her nose. Was that how all my meetings were meant to be like?

I give the girl a weak smile, because I didn’t like blood. I stare at her not sure what to say, I guess I should say sorry as well since I hadn’t been looking as well, I hadn’t ended up with a broken nose. ”Sorry.” I mutter, repeating her own words. I look down at the weed, which was definitely dead.