Goodnight, Moon [Benat's Death Post]

•••
All the stars in the sky
Burn to black close your eyes
All the stars in the sky
Say goodbye, say goodbye
•••

They were gone, then, leaving Benat in an aching entanglement of his gashed limbs and broken bones. A small breath escaped his lips as he lay on his side, body prostrate along the shore of the lake. The blood oozed from his arms and legs; he could feel it collecting in his throat. Nothing was left in him now that Elodie and Ivy had broken him to pieces. He should have wept for the mess that he’d become; he should’ve wept for the fool he’d been. In all of his life, Benat had thought himself wise—thought that he was, in a sense, more brilliant because he’d cared so little

[/color] for what had been serious. But now, as his hair was soaked in the water of the lake and his blood trickled into the tide, he thought of how little he’d known after all.

He had always thought the end of his life would bring about visions his family had talked about, the ones from old stories about a fancy place for the good boys and girls (and a terrifying vision of fire and flames for the bad ones[/color]). But the only thing left for Benat now was the stars. In their glory they collected above him, dancing and shining for the entire arena to see. He crumpled his fist into a ball and turned onto his back so that he could see them—so that he could have their lights above his head one final time. He was so small then, he was the tiniest grain of sand in the epic that was the universe—a sad footnote in games history, a silly boy that had had his day and lost it. He wanted to cry out to the heavens, if the blood in his throat didn’t prevent him from doing so.[/color]

There was nothing profound that came to mind at their sight. He wanted to think of all that came before—of the boys and girls from eleven that died just like him—but there wasn’t space for it. Even those who’d gone before him in these games, he had nothing in his heart that wasn’t already known. He’d been a simple boy his whole life; there was no changing his course when all was laid to rest. But though Benat Izar was simple, he could never forget what had been important all this time. Those that had gotten him to day 5, the ones that had kept the fear from overcoming him for so long. As the stars hung above he imagined all of them—the Izars, the big group of them huddled together in his home in district eleven—staring back down at him. The pain he’d cause them because he had to go—it wasn’t fair[/color]—but this was still another thing Benat learned, that life was rarely fair.

“Momma,” Benat closed his eyes and licked his lips. He thought of her first, a tall woman with graying brown hair and tired eyes. Was she crying now, seeing her first baby lying in a pool of his own blood? “Momma, you were good to me—you were… you were good to me. It’s not your fault momma… I just couldn’t do it… I couldn’t…” His admission was cute short; she would love him until the day she died, never once believing that he couldn’t have come home to her.

“Poppa…” His voice quivered in the still of the night, the sound of waves nearly shushing him out. “I hope I did you proud… I h-hope… hope I made you proud… I’m sorry I didn’t do more… s-sorry…” And he would always lay a flower on his grave, a yellow rose—for his pride and joy, his first born son.

“Deval…” He could feel the warmth of tears coming from his eyes, a contrast to the cold he felt taking over his entire body. It took every ounce he had to hold on, to be able to say what he needed to say to all of them. He could still fight—he would fight—until he’d given them everything. “Be good… be brilliant… be… be what they need. ‘Cause they need you… you don’t know… they need you…”

“Sampson…” His voice was thin, and his breath was harried. The air came in and out in long motions, and he let out a cough. “I love you, little brother. Don’t be afraid… ‘Cause look at me… I ain’t afraid and I’m… I’m not gonna make it… not gonna…” He rasped out another round of coughs, this time his chest shook violently as he lay. He could only imagine the boys sitting at home, Benat in his last moments on the broken down television set, them filled with fear. He couldn’t just up and die, and leave them afraid.[/color] He had one last bit of acting to do; he was going to go out as they always saw him.

“I guess… I got to get like… I got to get like…” Another fit of coughing overtook him, and he tightened his eyes shut. “Get like a tree in the spring and leave... eh heh, heh, heh…” Benat cracked a smile, his eyes still tightly shut. Even in the heat of the arena he felt an icy cold overtake him. His heart thumped loudly into his ears, and the pain in his chest suddenly dulling. His laughter ceased, and with it the sound of his labored breathing remained. He licked his lips another time, tasting nothing but blood upon them. I’m scared, I’m so scared.[/color] Benat recognized the chill as it passed through him—an unknowable fear of what was to come when his heart stopped beating. I’m nothing but a coward. Ain’t ever been nothing but a coward.[/color] But even cowards could do great things, whether or not they were scared. No matter how little they were.

“I love you, I really do…” Benat dribbled the words from his throat into the air. “Don’t forget that… don’t forget it…” The warmth that washed through his face made his eyelids droop, and everything—memories, faces, feelings—they swirled together for him in a delirious sway. He could scarcely breathe as the words crept from his lips. “I’m going now…” He whispered. “Be good to each other, okay?”



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