call me a stranger {peri v. bran v. aria} day 8

I am not the man I once was. In fact, I was never even a man, I was just a boy who thought way too much of himself. Lonely, and pessimistic, and ultimately full of myself - I was a career by the very definition but I never felt at home there, no, the training centre was never meant for me. But, where did I belong then? Nowhere Little Boy. Little Boy, Little Boy, there is no place for you, but the pearly white gates are shining brightly for you now. Just wait, Little Boy, your time is coming. The sky flashes with three more faces that night, and there were no surprises - because I'd watched them all die, and I didn't flinch once. With blades extended and limbs severed, Peridot Myler, the only Career left walking, didn't flinch a bit as the lives of three children fell out of their eyes.

I am a monster now.

The jagged path that led down to sanity was treacherous and dangerous and there was no crossing it, only those who were strong would even consider it - but the trail was narrow and there wasn't many places to land your feet. Waters calling out to you, screaming your name, Little Boy, Little Boy, come fall down, Little Boy, Little Boy, cackles louder than any that the mouths could have produced, sounds more eerie than that of a blade entering the skin, than the scream of a boy who didn't even know what was going on. Treacherous paths, and alluring waters. Sanity, and insanity. The narrow rope that one had to walk along in order to reach the other side, but sometimes the journey was too long. I didn't want to walk it any more.

In what world where a little boy had killed two others was safe, sane, what world? I didn't even know their names - I knew nobody's name besides those that I cared about - well cared as much as I could. The chalk is out of my bag quickly before I change my mind, a memorial. That was exactly what this place needed, when worst came to worst and Capitolites came one day to look at the arena - they would find a stone with people's names on them. Or so I thought, this wouldn't work out, no no no, I didn't know their names, I don't know, I don't know anything about them, but yet why not let them live on - why? Because they had to die. The answer was so simple, for me to breathe right now there had to be twelve girls and eleven boys dead and not breathing. Remember, remember, Little Boy, it'll be those faces that plague you forever.

Kiera Dempsey, the words find themselves scribbled over the nearest stone in trembled and frantic writing - the bravest girl in the world. With a violent cross across the names, Kiera Dempsey became extinct once again for the third time in this arena, her death, the anthem, the stone. Cross. Peridot Myler - the words seemed sickening across the stone, unworthy of being there and yet they had to be, there had to be twenty-four. The Little Boy. Amazon Girl, the tall blonde from District Two, with a cross to her name as well, it was the best I could do. Atlas, the boy meant to hold the world on his shoulders who feel so hard. Cross. The Killer Girl From The Bloodbath, cross, the little girl who'd helped slay an entire alliance but didn't stay to say hello, who would? Archer Boy, who shot down more people than thought possible, cross. Little Libertine, may her eyes remained closed even in death, cross. The First Boy I killed, cross. The tears come then quickly dripping down my face, a man would never cry. But I was just a little boy, I'd done so much wrong in so little time, they never tell you what it'll be like in here - the death, turmoil, the killing. Taking somebody's life so quick. I cross the boy off a second time, he was gone, the boy whose name I did not know was dead.

And I hoped to Ripred he would remain that way.

Aria's Ally - the girl who helped hunt but ended up being hunted, I knew nothing of her, cross. The Second Boy I killed, the second death that'd been caused by my blade. The thirst that had struck me to kill, kill, kill. Little Boy, you are so much more than a killer now, you are a hunter, Little Boy. Cross. He was nothing to me now. The Fast One, the girl who'd slipped from our grip, the girl who kept running no matter if we chased after her - the girl who had killed a boy in a single blow. Her name was not crossed off quite yet. But it should. The Singing Boy, who lost his throat and croaked not another word, cross. District Seven Female, I knew nothing of her, not her story and scarcely what she looked like, she came nowhere near me in these Games - for better or for worse, it took Aria to tell me who it was in the sky, cross. The Brutish Boy, the one who once kept Little Girl safe, but didn't last long - he was crushed in the skull by the quiet one without even realizing what had happened, cross. Aria Wolfe. The girl who saved me more than once, in more than one way - the girl who saved my soul. Bran Wolfe, her brother who still walked with us, but no he didn't walk, he dragged himself along, and stabbed me in the back. He kept on fighting even if he couldn't walk - the Wolfes did not go down easy.

And nor did I wish they would. Little Girl, Little Girl, we're almost done now. Little Boy, Little Boy, don't kid yourself, only one will go home.

The Girl Who’d Killed Atlas, cross, hunted down and murdered on the first day without a blink of an eye. Wednesdae Drummond, the poor boy who still walked around, but not so much walked any more – I didn’t even know where he was. Probably hopping around alone somewhere, all alone and no one was looking for him – I certainly wasn’t. He was my brother in arms, and yet I did not seek him. District Ten Female, I couldn’t even remember her face if I wanted to, did she not help me on the first day? Who knew, cross. Greaseball, cross, Little Girl, Little Girl, what did you do, you lost your innocence, that’s what. The Girl Who Flew, the one who tried to fly so high and ended up among the faces in the sky – her dream came true, cross. District Eleven Male, he died amongst his friends, and yet, what did he even look like? I couldn’t tell anyone if my life depended on it, cross. Red, that’s what Aria called her. The girl with the red cape like ours who was just as fierce, taking down anyone in her path – but she took herself down, cross. Slain, the boy who got killed by Kiera in one simple motion, who even was he? Cross.

Only five names were still there, five. Would I be back to cross out the rest or would it be me who needed to be crossed out today? Would someone do it? How quickly this game was coming to an end. I am a monster, the stone only made me realize, I am a monster. There are only six people’s names who I knew – there were six people, and one of them was me. When did I become so insensitive, when did I lose track of humanity, when did I become a monster? The trail was narrow and the footing was unstable, I was unstable, I walked across the jagged road and lost myself and drowned in the river. “Aria!” The name comes to my lips, I’m falling, falling, sinking in the river. “Aria!” Where was she? Please, please, please, Little Girl, please help me, I’m falling little girl, I’m sinking into insanity, Little Girl. I am a monster. How does one lose a wolf? Was I not the hunter, could I not find the wolf I was looking for? Little Girl, Little Girl.

“Aria!” Before me stands a Little Girl and her brother. Before me stands all that’s left of humanity in this arena – family. Before me stands a crippled boy who only wished for home, a little wolf, a little boy. Family was the last thing that was human left in this arena, family and that’s what stood before me. The little Wolfes from District Eight who must have played us all along. They were family and family came first, they were blood and now I was meant to die. “Aria.” The scream was no more, just a soft spoken word of regret and defeat – I would die today by the hands of the Wolfe family.

I wait. Standing on the narrow path between two monsters, two monsters against one wasn't a fair fight. I waited. I wait for two blows to hit my body, but it’s only one that lashes my skin. Only one. I wait. The teetering path and insanity on my fingertips, I’m drowning Little Girl, so land your blow now, Little Girl. I’m drowning. There was only one cut, Little Girl, land your blow. I wait. I open my eyes, Little Girl, what are you waiting for? Little Boy, Little Boy, her blow was hit, it landed on her brother dearest. Bran didn’t call out as his sister cut his foot clean off; did he even feel a thing? Oh Bran, I feel it, I feel it now more than ever. Friendship.

There is more than one human thing left in this arena, family, and friendship. Oh Bran, I feel it, family and friendship, and choice, human error, human success. This arena is way more human than any of us ever knew and still we teeter on the rope waiting to see if we survive this. Dead or alive, none of us have ever lived more than we have right now. We are human. We are oh so human.

Go away, go away, go away. Let this all be over please, I'm so done with this place, so done with the rushing waters squealing and crying at each and every body it pulls into it's tides. I'm done with the sky crashing down because Atlas wasn't there to hold it up any longer, watching it tumble down to the ground below, it was more helpless than the rest of us, wasn't it? Or perhaps the sky was just as helpless as we were (for we were all falling weren't we, one by one? useless and crying) or perhaps not helpless enough. I'm done with gas trickling it's way into every pore of my body and burning on contact, just to ensure that there's a little more blood that day, just to ensure that we were still fragile. I'm done.

But this wasn't that type of game, no. Not at all. This wasn't a game where you could quit when the going went tough, you couldn't forfeit, you couldn't just throw your sticks to the ground and walk away. No - here, quitting meant dying and as much as I was done with this arena, this torturous, malicious, heart-breaking arena, I did not want to die yet. I didn't want to die, ever. I would be a God, a God that would strike down the mere mortals who stood at my feet and watch as they perish. I would be a God, like Wes and Kiera, perfect in every way, perfect in whatever they did, perfect even in death. They were perfect in death, but Wes wasn't dead - God's didn't die. Gods lived forever, so what was Kiera Dempsey? A mortal who thought she was better than anyone else - but she was perfect, was she not? Killing the worst and letting the rest live.

I want to be a God. I want to be better, greater, faster, wiser, and smarter than everyone and everything but all I am is a Little Boy. Little Boy, Little Boy, don't you know that your time is running out, you can't run forever, Little Boy. You can't run forever. I can try. I wish you'd all go away, I wish you'd leave, I wish you'd all leave me alone and let me stay here by myself, I could do it, I could hide out in a cave and only eat plants and and and - Aria starts screaming, "Shut up! Shut up!" Stop it, stop, stop, stop, let this all finish please, we're all going to die, can we please just stop, please. Please. I'd begged and pleaded with so many things since I came into this arena, please die, please live, please come with me, let's run away. Please. Bad children never got what they wanted, but oh how we tried. Tried to get what we wanted, to cheat death, to cheat the fact that each of us had to die, all except one.

Oh how foolish we've been.

To play pretend and think we were Gods, to let our toga's dictate what we thought we were. Feast on the blood of others and drink wine like we were oh so much greater than everyone else - but that was the joke, wasn't it? We were all awful human beings, we thought we were so much more, but no, we weren't even making a difference? Is that the joke? Is that the joke, guys? Tell me! Kiera, tell me! Is that the joke? Little Boy, Little Boy, you don't understand, and you never will. "Don't talk to me about hell." Bran grabs my wrist and pulls himself close, the blood trickling down his hands from the knife he'd stabbed me with. Don't talk to me, no, I wouldn't, but I would kill you little boy, oh I would knock you down to cheat Death once again. I liked to play pretend, I liked to live, and think I was a God, I liked to be better and greater, and I loved having friends. I loved to play pretend, and I would pretend until the final blow struck me down, but that would not be today, no little boy, that would not be today.

"I'm not sorry."