twisted souls can't break {bryze}

s c a r l e t t e bryze

give me scars, give me pain
then they'll say to me, say to me
there goes the fighter
here comes the fighter

I am made of stone.

Statues are hard and lifeless, and that is what I am supposed to be. We aren't allowed to cry, or falter, or break apart. We must always remain strong. When my mother's stoic voice speaks into the dead silent room, I realize that maybe I am not as strong as I thought. "Clarity passed away, I'm afraid." I do not cry, I do not move, and I do not breathe. She is gone. Just like that, one of the two people I am closest to, and also the most competitive with is dead, and I don't know how to react. I've been trained my entire life for moments like these, I have been taught that people die, and that, if I am ever going to be great, some of them will be by my hand. Never, however, have I considered the death taking place anywhere other than in an arena while everyone watched me gain yet another step closer to victory. If this is what victory feels like, I want no part in it. I begin to shake, but I cannot cry. That is weakness. I begin to feel drained, but I cannot cry. That is weakness. I feel as if I am going to pass out, or maybe even die myself, but I still cannot cry. That is weakness.

I guess I am weak.

Only one tear falls down my cheek first, so silent that it might have gone unnoticed if the others didn't force a gasp to my lips. My mother wraps her arms around me, but it feels like she is miles away. "I am sorry, Scarlette, truly. But all of this will blow over-" Blow over? My family, the girl that I have probably always been closest to has just passed away, and it is just going to blow over? I have always held my tongue to her, to both of my parents, in fact, but this is the last straw. "How dare you! Clarity is.. is dead, and it's all just supposed to all blow over? Are you insane, Mother?!" I push her off of me, and stare her in the eyes. She is wrong. For once, I am going to stand up to her, and to tell her. My hands are clenched into fists that feel like wads of iron hanging by my sides. I suddenly enjoy the idea of letting my mother wear them on that pointed face of her's. "You- You are sick!" And before I can continue, there is a hand forcing itself across my face.

"Now, I know this is all hard for you, but no daughter of mine is going to-" I can't stop myself. I don't want to, but- No, that is a lie. I want to do this more than I have ever wanted anything. My fist slams itself into her temple, and then my boot finds a place in the center of her chest that pushes her back and out of the doorway of my room. I don't waste time, I push myself past her as she gasps for breath and attempts to bark a command at me. I can't, I can't, I can't. I burst out of the front door and I sprint as fast as I can. I don't grow tired, maybe from the adrenaline rush I received for fighting back, or maybe because I have gone completely numb. After a bit, I stop myself, and force the tears to stop. I am not this person. There is no room for grief or sadness within me, and Clarity's death is making me over flow.

It isn't long until I am in the victor's village, standing on the doorway of my cousin- the only one I have left's doorstep. I don't knock, there is no time, and I am afraid that if I stop moving I'll collapse. I push myself up the stairs and swing the wooden door open to find Julian, Mace, and a baby all looking at me with wide eyes. The baby. I've been so shaken about the death that I have completely forgotten about her pregnancy. Obviously the baby is healthy enough, because it blindly plays with Mace's index finger as they both stare back at me. "Julian, please, please tell me it's a lie!" My words come out in panicked whispers, but it's the best I can offer. "Is she really gone?"