break for your sins. | [the death of cleo.]

"Do you have nightmares?" Nox asks, his words cutting through the darkness and slicing my eyelids apart.

I inhale, groggily turning onto my side and looking at him through the dim light. "What?"

He turns onto his side in return and clears his throat. "I mean, do you have fears? Nightmares? Sometimes I feel as if I'm the only one in the world who is plagued by nightmares and, just, I don't want to feel alone."

My face remains blank for a few seconds, before a laugh slithers out of my lips, poisoning the air. "Why would I have nightmares, Nox? I have everything that I could long for. Nightmares are just the brain's way of tormenting you with something you can never have. It's all in the books, you idiot."

"Oh," he offers. "I'm sorry, I just thought that, even someone as brave you could break down every now and again."

I laugh again, looking away from his dimly lit face. "That's where you're wrong. I don't break. You can choose, y'know? You can let yourself succumb to your fears, or you can embrace them and cast them away. I'm not a girl who lets her fears control her, Nox," I confess, closing my eyes for a mere second.

"I control them."

---

I think I'm living in an utter nightmare.

The weapon of the District Ten male swings towards my direction, and I cast an arm up to block it away. Death is all that surrounds me, and as I cast away his blow, some sick voice in my head whispers that I am safe. But I stumble, going backwards with my steps and away from the cornucopia. Raspy breaths scratch their way out of my throat, and I can't help but feel a wave of fatigue wash over me.

I turn, and though I feel as if I could flee and be free, I find myself frozen. Blood leaks from the wound on my stomach, and I am no fool. Even if I run, causing agony upon my body, I'll surely die. With a gasp that I try to conceal, I fall to my knees. I adjust my body so that I am sitting, but I can't stop the pain that roars across my paling flesh.

My eyes look again at the distance, but they start to blur. (Crawl if you have to, Cleo. Damn it, don't be a coward.) The voice in my head, the voice in my head that's harassed me all of my life, screams instructions at me. I only bring my hands up to my ears and clutch them, however. I am a fighter, I know it for sure. Still, something inside me refuses to move. The battle around the cornucopia rages on, and I know that I stand no chance. I've been certain of this. If I run, I die. If I stay, I die.

I keep gasping, though I try to cover my lips and force them back into my body. Are the cameras watching me? No. Why would they waste time filming the pathetic girl from District Three who is slowly breaking apart? I curse myself for having gotten separated from my alliance at the start of the bloodbath, leading to my oncoming demise.

Locust is so strong, and I somewhat envy her. She was not afraid to cast stern glances my way, and though I'd never agree with her if she ever called me a pathetic weakling, I know that she's truthful. I'm a stubborn fool, but as I feel my life drain from my body, I am somehow certain that she'll make it far.

Opal is just as strong, and when we first met, I saw her as a hardened shell to crack. She didn't put up with my ways, (Why would anyone?) and she'd belittle me in defense, disregarding my so-called "royal status" and refined air. Maybe I should have surrounded myself with more people like Opal Shore, people with blunt words and truthful statements. Maybe I'd be different. Maybe.

Drace is just as strong as the two career girls. I guess that, out of all my enemies in this arena, he is my closet friend. Perhaps I should say "was." I regret the way I treated him. Using people... perhaps that was always my only weapon. I'd like to think that most people viewed me as District Three's hope for a Victor. But, in all truth, they shouldn't underestimate Mr. Vandel. He may just be the strongest member of our alliance, even if he was the only one whose heart I feel I truly contaminated.

More faces of fellow tributes enter my mind and dance before my vision, but I shake my head and close my eyes in an attempt to ward them off. Insanity scratches at my brain; insanity that plagued my maternal grandmother, who resembled me in more ways than one, pounds at my psyche. I lay down on the ground, continuing to gasp. Memories of my family and friends now slide in through my eyelids and plague me.

Nox cries and I caress his face -- I loved.

I drop a glass accidentally while Vivien is mopping up a mess in another room, and I go on to clean the shards up myself -- I cared.

Delilah and I laugh, followed by stern glares and smirks -- I was determined.

Luce Dewitt and I fight over a paper-crown as children, giggling and screeching -- I was not always cruel.

Mother tucks me in as a little girl, and as I shiver she pulls the blanket closer to my form -- I'm not a Queen of Ice.

That's when it hits me, as my eyes flash open and I gasp once more. I was never a Queen of Ice. My life was forged by hatred and bravery and fire. Every aspect of me is related to a burning flame. Love kills us slowly, just like ice. Hatred kills fast, just like I always wished to do.

I squeeze my eyes back shut, and I scratch my fingers along the soil. I was never meant for this world, I feel. This land of breaking and shattering and insanity. No. There are far better thrones to conquer. As I come to peace with myself and slowly close my eyes, I do not feel cold. Heat licks my flesh and burns my soul.

I smile as I die, opening my lips and stuttering out my last speech.

"I won't say sorry for all the sins I've brought onto this world. I-I won't let myself apologize. Because I've fulfilled my d-duty. I burned my mark onto this world, and now, I'm going to burn in Hell."

I was never a Queen of Ice--

I'm the Queen of Hell.