Insanity (Closed)
Feb 17, 2010 19:28:10 GMT -5
Post by rizzo13 on Feb 17, 2010 19:28:10 GMT -5
Jeremy walked out of his campsite that his alliance and him as set up with their supplies. He searched and longed for something to do, but here the only thing to do was kill and survive. No sports, fun, childhood fights, or girls to stare at. He looked around in search of another tribute to kill. He needed to get this competition over with no matter what it took.
He looked from side to side in a quick motion, like a bear looking after it's cubs before it goes across a large dark ditch. He felt scared. Afraid. Insane. But he never felt sad. It was strange to not feel sad when you knew that you were going to die in a short period of time.
Strange to know that your like was nearly complete. Strange to know that you would never see your mother again. Strange to know that you would never see your family. Never being able to say I love you to a girl. Never being able to get a good job, have a family, anything. It was all ruined now. Ruined by the Capitol.
Jeremy brought his battle ax to the side of his face as he looked every which way for a sign of life. I sign of something to hope for. Jeremy looked at his ax, perfectly clean. No blood, ash, wood, scratches, anything. Just clean blade. He smiled at his victory of not killing anyone at the Cornucopia. That was going to make his mother proud. But now he needed to kill someone. He needed sponsors. He needed help.
Jeremy frowned when he saw nothing exciting. He only saw the small amount of snow drip from the heavens, as if taunting him because he wasn't at home to feel this. He hadn't told anyone in his alliance where he was going. He wanted this to be his victory, not theirs. He wanted to live his life without being remembered as the guy in the alliance. He wanted to be remembered as Jeremy Houser. The boy who wasn't afraid. The boy who won, loved, lost, and survived. But the last thing wouldn't happen. He would die, but not without ending someone else first.
Jeremy took out a bottle of water and took a small sip, just enough to satisfy the empty feeling in his stomach. He wanted to be OK when he won the battle. He wanted to be OK when he won everything, when he saved himself. He wiped his mouth and looked at the snow. He picked up some of it and threw it into the air, watching it break into small pieces he hoped that someone had seen it and was coming for him. Coming to fight him. Coming to die.
He grinned as he imagined what the face of his victim would look like. Scared, astonished, happy? What would be their face that they would be remembered for forever. That the Capitol would always picture when they were at a dinner party, discussing the losers of the Hunger Games. Drinking their wine, partying out all the bad times in their lives, doing nothing wrong. It was all too perfect. Too ambiguous. Too abstract. There was a piece of the puzzle missing.
Jeremy imagined what his final move would be to kill his opponent. Slit his throat? Decapitate him? Stab him in the heart, stomach, chest? It was all getting to him. The thrill of murder. Te guilt seemed like nothing now. He could kill someone easily He could do it. He wouldn't be mad. He would be victorious! Remembered by everyone forever.
No He told himself. Don't think like that. His mind swam with nasty pictures of murder. He was thinking of things that he had never imagined before. Help! He wanted to call out, but restrained himself. He then took grip of his sanity again and told himself, You are here to survive. Not to murder. You will murder but not because you want to. You are forced to. Jeremy lifted his face, eyes red. He was beginning to lose his mind.
Jeremy told himself over and over again the same things, but the images never went away. He couldn't help but think of the thrill of taking another life. The thrill of winning. The thrill of being remembered. He groaned. He was losing his mind. He needed to keep hold of himself as he went through this experience. He needed to realize the big picture. Keep the girl alive.
Jeremy held his ax with white knuckles in his hands, waiting, as inside he was swimming with emotions. Anger, hope, love, hate, regret. Everything stung at his heart, seeming to take turns biting parts out. He was losing all his life, bit by bit. He was losing his mother's face, his memories. Everything before the Hunger Games was a blur. Was this his entire life? Was there really anything else?
Who was Jeremy? How did he act as a child? Was he nice to his mother? Oh, he hoped so. Jeremy wanted to scream his mother's name. He wanted her to help him. Help him stay just Jeremy. Not a murderer, not a suicidal maniac. He wanted more than anything to stay alive. To remember. To stay sane. But none of it seemed possible anymore. It seemed as though it was all an impossible dream. A dream that could never be fulfilled. A dream that could never be pursued. A dream that wanted to tear his life apart.
Jeremy looked ahead of him, into the trees, into the darkness. He saw nothing. He only saw the leaves dancing with the wind. The snow falling from the sky, like tears from his eyes. The trees quaking with fear, and even the wind seemed to be retreating from Jeremy. He closed his eyes tight and shook his head. This wasn't happening. It was a dream. It was a lie. But it wasn't. It couldn't be escaped. It couldn't be destroyed. He could only play the game. He couldn't out think it or out match it. He couldn't beat it or find hope in it. He was going to die, but he needed to try.
So, Jeremy waited. He waited for someone to show themselves so that he could fight them and win. He wanted to win, but it seemed impossible. It seemed unthinkable. Like a cat killing a bear. Impossible. He was going to try though. No matter what anyone said he was going to try. He wasn't going to give in to The Games. He was going to win. He was going to succeed. He was going to live because he was Jeremy Houser. The lovable one, the bodyguard, the acrobat, the insane lover boy, the man who tried. He would win whether he wanted himself to or not.
He looked from side to side in a quick motion, like a bear looking after it's cubs before it goes across a large dark ditch. He felt scared. Afraid. Insane. But he never felt sad. It was strange to not feel sad when you knew that you were going to die in a short period of time.
Strange to know that your like was nearly complete. Strange to know that you would never see your mother again. Strange to know that you would never see your family. Never being able to say I love you to a girl. Never being able to get a good job, have a family, anything. It was all ruined now. Ruined by the Capitol.
Jeremy brought his battle ax to the side of his face as he looked every which way for a sign of life. I sign of something to hope for. Jeremy looked at his ax, perfectly clean. No blood, ash, wood, scratches, anything. Just clean blade. He smiled at his victory of not killing anyone at the Cornucopia. That was going to make his mother proud. But now he needed to kill someone. He needed sponsors. He needed help.
Jeremy frowned when he saw nothing exciting. He only saw the small amount of snow drip from the heavens, as if taunting him because he wasn't at home to feel this. He hadn't told anyone in his alliance where he was going. He wanted this to be his victory, not theirs. He wanted to live his life without being remembered as the guy in the alliance. He wanted to be remembered as Jeremy Houser. The boy who wasn't afraid. The boy who won, loved, lost, and survived. But the last thing wouldn't happen. He would die, but not without ending someone else first.
Jeremy took out a bottle of water and took a small sip, just enough to satisfy the empty feeling in his stomach. He wanted to be OK when he won the battle. He wanted to be OK when he won everything, when he saved himself. He wiped his mouth and looked at the snow. He picked up some of it and threw it into the air, watching it break into small pieces he hoped that someone had seen it and was coming for him. Coming to fight him. Coming to die.
He grinned as he imagined what the face of his victim would look like. Scared, astonished, happy? What would be their face that they would be remembered for forever. That the Capitol would always picture when they were at a dinner party, discussing the losers of the Hunger Games. Drinking their wine, partying out all the bad times in their lives, doing nothing wrong. It was all too perfect. Too ambiguous. Too abstract. There was a piece of the puzzle missing.
Jeremy imagined what his final move would be to kill his opponent. Slit his throat? Decapitate him? Stab him in the heart, stomach, chest? It was all getting to him. The thrill of murder. Te guilt seemed like nothing now. He could kill someone easily He could do it. He wouldn't be mad. He would be victorious! Remembered by everyone forever.
No He told himself. Don't think like that. His mind swam with nasty pictures of murder. He was thinking of things that he had never imagined before. Help! He wanted to call out, but restrained himself. He then took grip of his sanity again and told himself, You are here to survive. Not to murder. You will murder but not because you want to. You are forced to. Jeremy lifted his face, eyes red. He was beginning to lose his mind.
Jeremy told himself over and over again the same things, but the images never went away. He couldn't help but think of the thrill of taking another life. The thrill of winning. The thrill of being remembered. He groaned. He was losing his mind. He needed to keep hold of himself as he went through this experience. He needed to realize the big picture. Keep the girl alive.
Jeremy held his ax with white knuckles in his hands, waiting, as inside he was swimming with emotions. Anger, hope, love, hate, regret. Everything stung at his heart, seeming to take turns biting parts out. He was losing all his life, bit by bit. He was losing his mother's face, his memories. Everything before the Hunger Games was a blur. Was this his entire life? Was there really anything else?
Who was Jeremy? How did he act as a child? Was he nice to his mother? Oh, he hoped so. Jeremy wanted to scream his mother's name. He wanted her to help him. Help him stay just Jeremy. Not a murderer, not a suicidal maniac. He wanted more than anything to stay alive. To remember. To stay sane. But none of it seemed possible anymore. It seemed as though it was all an impossible dream. A dream that could never be fulfilled. A dream that could never be pursued. A dream that wanted to tear his life apart.
Jeremy looked ahead of him, into the trees, into the darkness. He saw nothing. He only saw the leaves dancing with the wind. The snow falling from the sky, like tears from his eyes. The trees quaking with fear, and even the wind seemed to be retreating from Jeremy. He closed his eyes tight and shook his head. This wasn't happening. It was a dream. It was a lie. But it wasn't. It couldn't be escaped. It couldn't be destroyed. He could only play the game. He couldn't out think it or out match it. He couldn't beat it or find hope in it. He was going to die, but he needed to try.
So, Jeremy waited. He waited for someone to show themselves so that he could fight them and win. He wanted to win, but it seemed impossible. It seemed unthinkable. Like a cat killing a bear. Impossible. He was going to try though. No matter what anyone said he was going to try. He wasn't going to give in to The Games. He was going to win. He was going to succeed. He was going to live because he was Jeremy Houser. The lovable one, the bodyguard, the acrobat, the insane lover boy, the man who tried. He would win whether he wanted himself to or not.
