Locked In Chains

I remember you said
"Don't leave me here alone".
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I went without a fight.

They came marching forth so quickly I didn't have time to run and told me my own name as if they knew me better than I knew myself, which at the time seemed like a rather plausible possibility. I don't know how they knew, but they did. Maybe they had seen us both, but then again, Flight wasn't being charged. No, these Peacekeepers were all my own, ready to take me and me alone to the Detention Center. Then they told me what I was being charged for, as if it wasn't obvious. As if I didn't already know. They took so long and it gave me enough time to decide that I wouldn't be afraid- I could be terrified later. At that moment, I had to focus on getting them to leave before they recognized her and took her too. I didn't want her going back to that place ever again.

They put hand cuffs on my wrists and gagged me as if I was screaming and kicking and fighting, but the fight left me such a long time ago. I was absolutely silent and I think that scared them because they hit me a couple of times as if they wanted me to react. The only thing I did was blink at them a few times and then lower my eyes to the ground. They're used to rebellion, and they weren't getting it. Not from me, anyway- I was too tired. She fought, though. To my absolute horror, she fought, and that's when they realized that she was with me. That she had been wandering, too. And then they grabbed her and took her too, which made me want to scream and cry. Why did she fight? I wasn't worth it. She put herself in danger, and for what? I would have come back. The sentence they had given me wasn't a death sentence.

But she did fight, and now we're both doomed.

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Our footsteps echo through the horrid place they call the Detention Center as we move. One Keeper is in front of me and one behind, but it's not like I'm trying to escape. I'm too lost in my role of calm and careless to act rebellious, and too smart to get away. They don't like how unresponsive I am, and the bruise on my cheek bone is evidence of that. But Ripred, I'm done reacting. For now I just want to be, and the only thing that I can feel is the great sorrow that they caught Flight as well. I haven't seen her since the separated us before we entered the building. Why did she fight? Couldn't she see that I was doing everything I could to keep her out of this place? To stop these metal walls from containing her flames? I didn't want her to have to come back here.

Not again.

She never talked about this place and I never asked- it was a subject that weighed us both down because of all the unspoken words that rested heavy on our shoulders. I could see in her eyes that this is a place of unmentionable horrors; that perhaps it even made her nervous to some extent. And I think that's what scared me more than anything else- that though it is faint and small, there is indefinitely a tiny crack etched into her normally smooth surface, so that the cold stone is flawed by by her time here. Flight is brave and strong and so unbreakable that the idea that this place could have some effect on her seemed unfathomable. But now I'm beginning to scratch the surface of the terrors that scream through these metal halls, and I'm learning very quickly that this is the place that could do it.

Here, people change.

We stop in front of cell with some guy who seems to be a few years older than myself looking out. I wrinkle my nose in obvious distaste, wondering why they couldn't stick me in a cell with a girl. How am I supposed to go to the bathroom with him in there? The door is opened and I am roughly shoved inside- I stumble a few steps before straightening and staring blankly ahead, which angers them further. I feel the force of a hand on my upper back and then I'm flying forward, toward the ground. I hit it with a loud thud and then do not move, cursing quietly under my breath as the door slams shut. But then the image of yellow eyes flashes with such clarity in my mind that I have no choice but to fall silent, putting all of my effort into trying not to think of the horrors she is facing right now.

Slowly, the movements sore and jerky, I stand. Everything aches and I groan as I straighten, rolling my shoulders back and feeling a few joints pop and crack. The ride here was long and painful, and the bruises on my arms are evidence of that. I wasn't told how long I'll be here, or what will happen while I am, but I know better than to ask questions. Questions are always met with threats, and I'm just not in the mood.

Sighing, I turn to my cellmate, brushing a lock of greasy midnight strands out of my eyes and crossing my arms over my chest. They took away my glasses so that my midnight eyes are now fully revealed, which bothers me immensely. I don't want anyone to see my starry eyes ever again- not after all that they have gotten me into. Not after they have cursed me for all eternity. I sigh and glance at the two beds, feeling along the cold metal of the top one before glancing at him again. How wild I must look to him, with my unbrushed hair, torn clothing, and the forest's twigs and leaves still clinging to my midnight strangs. I press my lips together slightly and then sigh, knowing that it would be best to get along with him. My voice is rusty and it takes my tongue a moment to remember how to speak, and when the words finally escape me they consist of awkward vowels and abrupt syllables. "So which bed is mine?"

Don't know, I can't see,
What's come over me?
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I nod silently and then allow my gaze to be pulled upward, toward the upper bed that my hand rests on now. I flash back to times when I would lies on large tree branches and map out my childhood dreams in the vast expanse of endless stars that danced on and on and on. It was then that I decided I was a midnight child, not born to live under the sun's harsh rays. No, I lived for the serenity of the moon and the silence of the stars. My lungs were built to breathe in the crisp breeze that whispered through otherwise silent trees. I was a child of nighttime, with silvery moonlight flowing through my veins instead of blood. And that's exactly how I liked it.

I cannot see the stars from here or dance in pale moonlight. Instead, I can only memorize the dents in the ceiling. Made from what? Insane prisoners desperate to get out? Or perhaps it was made that way, to look imperfect, because uniform is too good for us criminals? I am uncertain. As I climb up, onto the hard cot, I sigh. Memories flash to Flight, and I wonder what she's doing right now. How much do they know about my yellow eyed friend? What is she being punished for? They did not know of my countless crimes against the Capitol other than wandering, so what do they know about her? Anything? Everything?

Needing to get my mind off these things, I speak. "My name's Violet." An utter lie, but I've been convincing myself of this for such a long time that I'd almost forgotten my old name until she started calling me by it again. "I was caught wandering. What about you? Why are you here?"

Distant flickerings,
It's greener scenery,
This weather's bringing it all back again.
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While he's speaking, I turn over on my bed, bringing my arm up to use like a pillow as I stare ahead before finally shifting my position so that I perch dangerously on the edge of the metal shelf before ultrathin limbs spring and I land silently back on the floor. Though it has been a long time since I have needed Ami's medicine I still feel the ache in my head intensify slightly at the sudden movement, joints aching as I straighten and face him indifferently. Yes, I see it now. On his face and in his eyes. He lacks the freedom and worn determination that Panem citizens can take pride in. Clearly a Capitolite, cut cleanly and smoothened so that one could hardly tell that he and I are of the same species. I am wild and have been disobeying orders and hurting people for as long as I can remember. He is new to this game, obviously. Too clean and too polite and lacking the quiet fire that we all kindle within ourselves. That fire and those dying embers are all that keeps me moving at times, and then there was the moment after I slipped under the fence when those flames flickered out. I cannot understand how the people of the Capitol live without them. But now I see that they do not all lack the rebellious fire. I can see it within him, glowing faintly. Nothing compared to Flight's radiant sun, but still there. Still burning when nothing else will.

Unable to keep still, I lower to the ground and sit, sighing. "It's not a bad thing that you did, you know. Not in comparison to others I know. When I was younger, I lived in District Nine, which was always crawling with criminals. The Capitol could hardly contain us, in fact. But they did. They always do." I press my lips together tightly. "It's when you start hurting others that you know you've done something bad." I think of Flight and Jasik and Ari and bring my knees up to my chest, resting my chin on them and watching him as steadily as I can when I know that it's my fault that they have her again. I will be to blame for any pain she feels.

And to me, that is the most unforgivable crime of all.

Why am I so afraid
To break down and lose my mind again?
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I laugh softly, but it's as cold and bitter as the winter wind that whispers through the night back in District Nine. I don't blame him for being afraid- I am too. We all are. Even the most courageous criminal fears this place and it's cold metal walls. They break people here. "I've heard rumors, but I'm sure you don't want to hear any of them. But there's a reason everyone's so afraid of this place. No one comes out unchanged." I sigh, leaning back against the cold wall and thinking of Flight after she returned from her first visit to the Detention Center. Anger flares up momentarily- what right did they have to do that to her? To hurt her? To break her? None. None at all. But I quickly extinguish the flames. Here, anger is deadly.

I stand up and move over closer to him, leaning against the wall near him and watching him closely. My fingers attempt to claw into the wall, searching for some sort of anchor. Finding none, one hand remains with nails pressing against icy metal while my other rises up to pull out the golden sun pendant I had hidden in my shirt for fear that the Keepers would take it. The tears that suddenly press against the back of my eyes are unexpected, but I force them back and keep my face cool and calm. "I think that as long as we get along with each other and stay out of the Keeper's ways, we'll be fine, and you can get back to whoever you're worrying about right now." I recognized it almost immediately, of course. How many times have I seen people with that longing expression on their face? I wonder if I look that way right now. My fingers press against the pendant so hard it hurts, but I don't dare let go. If I do, I'm afraid I'll break down crying before him. And I can't let that happen.

I can't let them see how much they've already broken me.

Sometimes I feel like I'm
a bird with broken wings.
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A smile that has no humor finds its way onto my face, curling the corners of my lips up cruelly. Every inch of me burns hot for a moment before going dangerously cold and numb, and my fingers freeze over the smooth surfaces of the sun they clutch so dearly. He suggests that I don't know the feeling that rests within him now, when really, I have felt agony ten times as intense and acute. But no, he could never know that. He can't see through me into the quiet depths where I keep my pain and sorrow well contained. I remember that night that seems like yesterday, when we both lay sobbing under the protection of a willow tree with only the moon to hear our sorrows. We are haunted beings, and he has no right to question that.

"Of course I know that pain," I say, my voice dangerously slow. "You can't possibly think I came here alone?" I lean my head back against the wall, but my burning midnight eyes remain watching him. "Trust me when I say that if you're hurting now, then you should feel very lucky that you have never known true pain, Capitolite."

And the thing of it is,
There's nothing around here that I'm gonna miss.
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"Ari, I'm sorry, but I have to go. There's nothing left for me here."

I press my lips together tightly, trying to contain a fire that's quickly growing. Of course I can't tell him about the rebel base. We're probably being monitored right now, and I don't want to get Jasik or Ari in trouble. If they're still alive, that is. I think of my nightmares, where Ari has transformed into a creature of sticky onyx and Jasik's eyes stare off into nothing and his hand is as cold as ice with the wedding ring glinting brightly in the approaching flames.

"I've done more than you could ever imagine, Capitolite. Suffer the way I've suffered, starve the way I've starved, and lose the way I've lost, and then we'll talk."

Your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone
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Do I miss them? Part of me does. Part of me is carried within their icy cold hands always, cradled with care within fingers through which blood no longer flows. Unreachable, irreversable, and with them forevermore. But another part of me feels as if they have never left- as if their presence still haunts over me, filling me with guilt and longing and fear because they make me vulnerable in a way that I wouldn't be without them. Though I am almost certain they are dead, they live on and on and on within me, causing the agony to tumble over itself within me until I feel that I can't possibly feel any more pain. But there always is some new level of horrors that can be reached.

"So much," I whisper, tearing my eyes away from him and staring through the bars of our cell. "And them being gone... it's not enough, really. They're still here." I gesture up, around, everywhere, because I'm afraid he'll think I'm insane if I point to my head. "I hear their screams in my nightmares every night. And the worst part is that I'm not even certain they're dead. But I'm so afraid to find out."