i can't help but to think why (narnia plot? blitz)
Jul 15, 2013 10:15:38 GMT -5
Post by willow . on Jul 15, 2013 10:15:38 GMT -5
[bg=ffffff][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,475,true][atrb=style, background-color: ffffff; border: e3e2f2 solid 0px; width: 456px; padding: 0 0 0 0px; border-radius: 30px 30px 0px 0px;] erinne beaver |
[/blockquote][/justify]They all saw me run, like a cowad, like the fool that I surely am. Never will anyone be able to look at me without knowing it was I who ran away from the podium, saved by that lovely girl who is now condemned to die. And yet in my heart, I can't help but to feel happy that I'm still at home, that I wasn't sent to my death, and that I'm finally safe, at least for another year.
I didn't want to run, I wanted to walk up to that podium and proclaim my place, use it to fill that space so another didn't have to lose their life a life that would undoubtedly be important to those around them. My life though, it never has been anything has it? I've always been that girl who never did a thing besides running around town in bare feet with my friends and pissing other people off. Other than that though, my life has no worth to it.
That girl though, she lost her sister only a couple of year ago, and it breaks my hear to know that they both will probably be dead, that I couldn't have enough courage to sacrifice myself for the sake of that poor girl living.
My fingers hang limply at my sides as I walk through the district, the dirt path scuffing up dirt under my hopelessly bare feet as I scramble along, at my own sort of speed and gait, I'm sure that I look as good as a seam person, with my shoes off and my hair wild, and yet, I couldn't care less than to how I look.
And as I reach the outskirts of the town I can feel the stares down my back, I'm the girl that ran away, I'm the girl that didn't stand up and present herself to Panem. I'm the girl that betrayed them all. that barefooted girl that looks so poor and tired that she can hardly stand and I acknowledge my appearance, I love it, and I'm not afraid to look dirty, fucked up by life itself. But they can only stare, they can't arrest me, they can't ill me; not yet at least.
They will do nothing about it because they're afraid, of me, Erinne Beaver. And I can only hope that's how it will stay.
( i got internet access , omg guys <3 and sorry this is so short )
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