my lost saviour ☆ {stare, VT}

Half the time the world is ending
Truth is I am done pretending
Too much time, too long defending
You and I are done pretending

On Reaping days in District Two, they don't wish you luck for the same reason they do in other districts. Their words do not mean that they hope you escape death for another year. They don't mean they wish for you to never know the bloody horrors that are the Games. No, if someone tells you good luck in District Two, it means "We hope you get reaped. We hope you go in there and kill and maybe die yourself." Sometimes, I forget this, and I smile in response to their wishes because I think they are taking into consideration my well-being. But then I see their battle scars, white across tan wrinkled skin, and I scold myself for being so foolish. What a strange, despicable district we are, where we think it grand to be sent into the Hunger Games to die.

If that is our twisted view on luck, than I was luckiest girl alive on Reaping day.

The crowd is as loud and bustling as it normally is and the sound of swords hitting swords in multiple training centers throughout the district echoes in the background to the hymn of a thousand voices calling out to each other. And yet, surrounding by people, by living breathing moving things, I have never felt more alone. Breyer even mentioned the day before yesterday that I have been acting strange lately. (Lately, Breyer? We both know that this all started not recently, but rather on that horrible day that seems like an eternity ago and last week and tomorrow all at once.) As my dirty sneakers step against hard pavement, I flash back to those moments. Heart pounding, mind racing, limbs refusing to move. For a single minute, my name was the most famous in the district, and I was doomed. And then... and then...

I didn't recognize her voice, but I was stunned. I couldn't fathom who would possibly take my place and go off to die, not when I was putting on such a lovely act. Another performer, perhaps? But then she stepped forward and I had stared at her blankly, for I did not know that girl. And despite the fact that she was volunteering, that she was saving my life, my first thoughts on Destiny Lenstil were not positive. You idiot. And she was. But that idiot saved my life, and right afterwards I flew into Breyer's arms and thought I just might never let go, sobbing into his nice shirt as I listened to the crowd applaud for our sixty-second pair of tributes. What an honor. What a privelege. What a fantastic lie.

It was my turn to walk into town and get us some food. A duty I hate, for I am always terrified I will run into my parents or someone else from my past, but we all must take turns and now it's mine to walk the death march. No one really enjoys coming here - these people are little more than strangers who revel in death and call us freaks. They understand nothing. It's even more toturous now, however, as they turn their faces toward me in recognition, and not because I am the wonderful escape artist who has blown the minds of my audiences too many times to count. No, I am infamous now, and I regret that with all of my heart.

"Please, wait. Can I talk to you?"

The voice that calls is raised and hits me square in the back, obviously directed at no one else. But who in this sea of faces would want to to talk to me? My stomach drops when I take in the possibility that I am finally living my nightmare and the voice belongs to one of my parents, but when I turn around I realize the person coming toward me is a whole different kind of chaos. My heart stutters and then starts again, and I gaze at him, absolutely stunned. I knew he was in town, of course, for the Victory Tour that I did my best to ignore despite it being mandatory, but I always assumed he would leave directly after. I never thought... I mean, I was after all just a forgotten name, my memorability erased by that of the girl who succeeded me.

"Klaus Goravich," I say, fighting to keep any emotion at all out of my voice. I am expected to not just respect this boy but to honor him, but the way the younger members of the crowd stare at him in admiration sickens me. She may have asked him to kill her, but she did not ask him to attack her. I saw her face when the camera zoomed in on it, features morphed into an expression of horror. This boy killed the girl who saved my life, and while I may not have known her, I owe her everything. And so does he. He owes her for dying so he could live. I've heard, of course, that Klaus is a good person once you get to know him. I saw him act decently enough in the Games. But still, I cannot help the hint of distaste that slips into my tone. "To what do I owe this..." A moment's hesitation. The blink of an eye. I flash back to when she smiled on the sand as he brought down his scarlet blade, both their eyes so empty, before I snap back and manage a very small, somewhat forced looking smile. "...pleasure?"

Drink to all that we have lost
Mistakes we have made
Everything will change
Everything will change