Handshake of Carbon Monoxide - Cait

And I tried to let go of the things
That meant the most to me

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I am Belle. I am a girl. I am 17. I am plain. I am boring. I am weak, and pathetic, and broken.

Imperfect.

The day had blown by already, yet it was still early morning, caught in a vicious breeze with wispy winds rolling past. The winds brought with them a numbing sensation – anaesthetic. Waking up alone in my too small bed, shivering from a freezing, piercing sensation that only I could feel, just staring, mentally preparing myself for the day. As per usual. Because nothing ever changed in this crazy, mixed-up world. Nothing would change today, either. It was Reaping Day. Another day. It would be over soon. Everything would return to the way it had always been, if it had really changed at all. Another lifeless face, filled with sadness and anguish and loneliness and desperation and, saddest of all, the stubborn pride that filled their dead eyes, the false hope that maybe, maybe, they could make it out alive. And I’d never cared for those stupid enough to believe it. Sure, they were scared, but they kept fighting. They just wouldn’t give up, even though they were fighting a lost battle. I’d never cared. There was no reason to care. As long as I’m safe. Stella needs me. Anything for her. Because, in all honesty, nobody else mattered to me.

But that was a lie.[/justify]
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~~~~

I can’t remember leaving my bed. The vague vision that controlled my every action as the sun rose gradually, telling the world of the impending day ahead, left me blinded. Faint memories of walking from my bed, shifting slowly to the front of my house, standing. Basking in the glorious sunlight as dawn broke just beyond the horizon. A place so far away that we just stand here and laugh sadly at the realisation, that all beautiful things, are too far from our own grasp. Moving back inside the safe sanctuary, I remember pulling on a gauzy gown that seemed unfamiliar and foreign in such a broken, imperfect body. But not much else can be conjured up in my time of need.

I remember waiting. Waiting for the rest of the world – the rest of my world – to awaken to the new day. It’s always the same. You awaken from the blissful slumber unless the nightmares don’t stop when the moon rises

[/s].[/color] You feel fine and refreshed as you spend the first three or four seconds dizzy, disorientated. Normal. As if there is nothing wrong. But then the reality hits, and it will hit much harder for many people today. And suddenly you are living in that nightmare again, and it is so much worse, because in real life, you can’t escape the horrors that plague you and threaten to take you hostage. You always awaken before death in a dream. Death is a luxury something that comes with time. What is death when you know what it is like? Isn’t half the fun, not knowing what death really is?

In a few weeks’ time, two more people close to me from my District will fall victims to the dark passenger that is Death. And they won’t be missed. People only care for a second. But people move on, memories fade, and with those faded memories the scars left behind – the only reminders of the people who have departed – fade too. It was just another day. Today is another day.

The stirrings outside my window move by at lightning fast speeds. Stella is there with me in a single instant that must have been, in reality, several hours, dressed in an elegant white dress, radiating a beauty that I do not. Our eyes meet, our hands meet, and we hold onto each other, sisterly love spreading through our hearts. We sit, but then we are moving and at once we are separated and I am whispering to my baby sister that I will see her soon as I stand in the middle of town with hundreds of other terrified faces. We are all so similar, yet the faces are foreign, strange to my wandering eyes. The mumbled murmurings of a nervous crowd of kids fills my ears like the buzzing mockingjays that flit around the trees in the orchard, but as our mayor steps onto the stage, everything stops. I am too far back to see the mayor’s face properly, but as he reaches into the reaping jar, I can see that look in his eyes. And it’s still there as he reads out the name on the paper, sealing the inevitable death of a poor, unfortunate soul.

And it wasn’t me.

It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me. I was already dead, but Stella wasn’t. She needed me, I needed her. Everything was fine. It wasn’t me. But as the shock swept over my head as suddenly as it had come, the situation at hand hit me. Because standing up on that stage, accepting her own death, was someone far, far worse than me. The only friend I would ever have.

The world stops.[/justify]
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~~~~

I should have broken down at the Reaping. Seeing Heather meet her fate should have triggered the mental breakdowns that plague each step I take. But the shock that subsided from me being able to live another year with my beloved sister was instantly replaced with the shock of my best friend’s impending death. The only rational thought that echoed in my mind, throbbing like the racing pulse of my heartbeat, was find her, find her, see her, talk to her, find her. I had to do it. I was never going to see her again except on tv buut shh. I wouldn’t lie to her. I would stay strong. What would be the point in telling her she will make it out, when it is so painfully obvious that she won’t? And as I stood outside the door, the stupid door that separated us, I wondered who would be hurt more by the truth. I wasn’t going to break down now. She couldn’t see that side of me. She’s my best friend, yet she still knows so little about me. That wasn’t right. That wasn’t how it worked.

Was it?

Everyone has secrets.

A lady leaves the room, tears still dripping from her face. Could I do this? I wasn’t sure. But I wouldn’t let myself hurtle into that dark chamber of horror that succumbed me each painful day right now. Not just yet. As I opened the door, I hoped that someone – some ghostly spirit of a dead soul – would look out for me, take pity on me, give me the strength to remain strong. Not let Heather see through the façade. I just need someone to look out for us. She was already dead, and as I stepped inside the room and saw the beautiful girl with the long blonde hair and the sparkling eyes and the slim figure and the innocent face and the streaks from tears running down her face and trickling down her nose, I just knew I wouldn’t hold on for long. Two minutes is all you get, Belle. Make it count. But I must have wasted half of that time just standing there, gawking. And with each second that ticked by, I only became more frustrated. And so I acted irrationally, allowing my instincts to take over. And as I rushed towards the graceful girl who was so different to myself, I hugged her.

In that moment, I was holding Stella. Telling her not to cry, telling her to believe in me and believe me when I said that everything would be alright. Because she knew me well enough to listen, even if it wasn’t true. But I had to make this pain that Stella – I mean, Heather – was feeling, stop. And as I stroked her gorgeous hair and soothed her, I couldn’t help but feel so different to the Belle that everybody knew and hated. The beautiful day looming just outside the window, suddenly didn’t seem so beautiful anymore. I held the broken frame of the broken girl, holding her together, willing her to stay strong telepathically. Because if she were to break, I would break. We couldn’t let that happen.

I’d wanted to tell her that she was the only friend that I’d ever had, that I’d miss her when she was dead, that I hoped she wouldn’t forget me.

But sometimes a hug could do more than empty words exchanged and handshakes of farewell could ever do.

I wanted to hurt
But I couldn’t let you leave me

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