until we press {r e s t a r t} [Day One - FH]
Feb 21, 2014 11:04:21 GMT -5
Post by rook on Feb 21, 2014 11:04:21 GMT -5
willis keeni
for everyday robots getting old
when our lips are cold
lookin’ like standing stones
out there on our ownI feel so vulnerable. Ever since I stepped off of that pedestal I have regretted it. From vomiting on the ground, to slicing off Luke Davis' leg, to the stand-off with Colgate and Savannah. I would rather have stayed on that pedestal and not have entered the Games. I would rather have been killed there, than play the Capitol's mad, twisted game. My humanity is burning. It is because of me that Luke is dead - He would have gotten away if I hadn't struck his leg, like I did. I am responsible for the death of another human being, and I'm going to die with that burden. Even now, when I'm jogging away from the bloodbath, half-carrying Eye Saw, I feel vulnerable. We are exposed, and I hate it. My mind frenzies, ever expecting some sharp blade to come out of nowhere and pierce through my skin, spewing my blood into the dirt. My death could come at any second, and repentance for all that has happened is constantly in my head. I should have died on that pedestal, that would have been better than enduring any of this.
I didn't take much from the Cornucopia. The rucksack is probably the most valuable thing I grabbed, simply because I wouldn't have been able to carry as much stuff without it. I nabbed some pliers, although I don't see much use for them, except maybe as a blunt weapon, and a blanket, which is something of a comfort. The terracotta jug I stuffed in my bag could prove useful for storing food, or water maybe. I just wish I had picked up something more beneficial - There was such a range of armor, medical supplies and weaponry. I did grab a sword, but I would have given anything to get throwing knives, or even some sort of medicine to help Eye with his leg. He's clearly in a lot of discomfort, and there's nothing we can do.
Leave him behind. I want to slap myself for having the thought. Eye is one of us, one of the group. I bite my lip as I drag the limping Career towards the massive body of water. He was our best shot at surviving. His years of Career training and natural talent for staying alive would have put us in good stead, but he had to go and break his leg. Our secret weapon is broken, and now he's more of a burden than a blessing. If we don't pick up the pace, the group that swarmed us in the Bloodbath with catch up, and this time there will be killings. I can't put Laila and Claire at risk, just for the sake of Eye. Can I do that? A better question would be: Will I do that? We could all die because I wanted to keep Eye alive, for his experience and his knowledge. My shaking hands grip Eye's clothing tighter, and I hoist him up more, taking more weight off his leg. I ain't leaving you behind, Eye Saw.
My body is starting to tire. Eye is bigger and heavier than me, and I'm not the fittest of teenagers. Carrying his weight is taking its toll on me, mentally and physically both. I'm sweating more than him, and he's got a fractured leg. How much longer can I do this? If I collapse from exhaustion, there's no way that tiny Laila will be able to carry us to safety, and I doubt that Claire would be able to do any more, either. So, again, they're all depending on me. I never thought that a drunken, feeble, anxiety-struck person such as myself would be a figure of stability and dependence to others. That responsibility gives me meaning, and it keeps me going. When you've got no family that cares, and you've got nothing to fight for, you have to look in the darkest places to find a reason to keep going. These kids are just as desperate as me, it seems. If we've all got that in common, then we can all survive together, right?
We reach the ocean. I assume it's an ocean because it's so vast. The horizon is nothing but a thin white line, shimmering as the sky and the sea crash together so brilliantly. I have never seen so much water in all my life. Back home, they talk about District Four's great ocean, and how people make a living on reaping the ocean's fruits. Eye would know all about that - He has salt-water running through his veins. The 56th and 61st Games are the only times I have had a decent look at the sea before, I remember watching as a kid, struggling to imagine the sheer vastness of it. I spot some islands about half a mile away, could be further - It's hard to tell. If we make it there, we should be safe for the night. It looks a good vantage point, and it's pretty isolated.
Without a word of protest from Eye, I drag him into the water with me, until we are waist deep. The sting of salt on my body is surprisingly comforting, it takes me back to when I was just a kid. We'd run down to the pond and chase away the ducks, diving head-first into water that was dirtier than the mud-banks around it. Eight of us, ranging from three years old to nine years old, together as a family. Family. It seems a lifetime ago.
"I can't swim," I stop and turn to the girl from Five. She has paused at the water's edge, not daring to even get her toes wet. That's fear I see - Fear of the unknown. I've been swimming in the murky rivers with my cousins since I was six years old, but judging by the uncomfortable look on Laila's face, she has never swam before. I grind my teeth together, adjusting my grip on Eye. This is a problem. We can't stay here, because the mob at the Cornucopia will catch us. If I force her out to sea, she could drown. I don't want either on my conscience. This Arena is a pitfall of dilemmas, with each decision bringing more problems. I've set off a chain reaction, and I can't stop it, I can only run with it. Should never have stepped off that pedestal.
"We don't have a choice," I say sternly, my grip on Eye slipping, so I have to hoist him up again.
"Hope you're a fast learner, Sycamore..." I drag Eye deeper into the water, but Laila still hesitates.
"It's Laila. She corrects me, clearly unhappy with being referred to by her last name. I swallow as my foot brushes a stem of seaweed, making my skin crawl. Deeper I tread, the waterline slowly advancing up our waists and closer to our necks.
"Whatever, Five. I dismiss her. Unhappy with my uncooperative behavior, little Laila gets Claire to help her. There is some disagreement initially, which really starts to irk me.
"GET IN THE WATER, NOW!" I command, taking charge of it all. If we don't stop arguing, we're all gonna die. Can't they see that?
Eventually they let it go, working together and allowing the water to take them too. I tread deeper until we start to float. I grab underneath Eye's armpits, from behind, acting like a human raft. I lean backwards so that I am floating on my back, with Eye on top of me. I tread water like this for a few seconds, until I get the hang of it. It's unorthodox, but it's working somewhat. If it looks stupid, but it works, then it ain't stupid. I think that was something Gypsy once told me. There she is again, creeping into my subconscious when I don't want her there. Were my thoughts of abandoning Eye that different from Gypsy's own ideas of betrayal? The more I think about it, the more I realize how uncomfortably alike Gypsy and I really are. That scares me.
My tremors are nowhere near as bad in the water. I guess I never really considered hydrotherapy. There's something relaxing about floating - It's like the ocean is taking the weight of all your worries off your shoulders, leaving you completely weightless and free. Yeah, but if we stay here, we're as good as dead. It's important to keep moving, which is easier said than done. I thought carrying Eye on land was hard - At sea it's even worse. More than once I am forced underwater, the tang of salt-water continuously filling my nostrils until I emerge coughing and spluttering, desperate for air. The thoughts of dropping Eye, and letting the ocean bed claim him, are all too tempting, but I force myself to think other thoughts.
I am not Gypsy Keeni.
[Willis Keeni receives a Bottle of Whiskey, Shin Guards, a Jar of Tar, and Flint in Sponsorship]
[Willis Keeni equips his Shin Guards, and then fills his Empty Jug with water, giving him a Jug of Unpurified Water]everyday robots just touch thumbs
swimmin’ in lingo they become
stricken in a status sea
one more vacancy