cripples, bastards and broken things {FH vs. Moles, Day 4}

willis keeni

afterlife. oh my god, what an awful word
after all the breath and the dirt and the fires are burnt
and after all this time, and after all the ambulances go
and after all the hangers-on are done hanging on in the dead lights of the afterglow

Twenty-four hours ago, I was a coward.

"Laila, get behind me!"

"I-I can’t move!"

"Help!

Today I refuse to be that person.

"Hold on!"

[attacks Mole #2 - Pyrian (Katana)]
RQIyqWC2sword
Shallow Cut on Right Hip -- 3.5 damage

We're all dead. Avoiding that fact is just dumb. The red rivers that flow inside us will eventually run dry, when all of our precious blood is spilled into the dirt. It will be such a waste of life. Such is the nature of the Games. We can fight to stay alive, like the Capitol wants us to, but in the end we will all die. All we are doing is delaying the inevitable. How much longer can we put off our deaths? One day? Two days? I find myself wondering which will break first, our will or our bodies. I try not to think about it too much, but it's there - Burning in the back of my mind. The cold hard truth. We won't all survive - The Game doesn't work that way.

I'd be lying if I said I hadn't changed since the Games started. Each day is harder and more dangerous than the last. We were lucky to get away from the two bison yesterday, and even before that we were lucky to escape from those cattle unscathed. We've lost enough already - My finger, my broken knee, Eye's leg. Could be worse, I suppose. These Muttations are scientifically engineered to kill us, so there's no questioning how lucky we are to have survived two attacks. Despite that, I've honestly been hoping that we run into more Mutts. Reason being that the alternative is fighting Tributes. Killing Mutts is one thing, but murdering other people? That's a whole different ball game. I'd rather I die before I have to kill someone in cold blood. The thing is, we haven't seen another Tribute since we left the Cornucopia. When you consider the flat landscape, you would have thought that we'd come across one of the other eleven Tributes at some point. Still, I'm glad. I'm not ready to kill, and I don't think I ever will be.

"Laila, get behind me!"

As a group, we don't talk much anymore. For the first day or two we were quite vocal, sharing ideas and generally trying to comfort each other with tales of our past, but now it's different. We are much more focused, more determined to stay alive. I think it's because we know what it's like out here now. We've had warning shots fired, most of which have hit me. We know that we could die at any second, we're not safe anywhere, and that's hit us hard. You take your life for granted when it's yours, but when it's in the hands of the Capitol, you feel vulnerable and exposed - Like an animal.

It's hit me hardest. Like I said, I've changed. I'm colder now, less naive, if you like. I've been sober for over thirty hours, which is somewhat of an achievement for me. The side effects come in horrific waves - Headaches, violent shaking, and then there's the vomit. Despite all that, I still don't want to drink. I realize now how stupid I was before. I have a responsibility to stay alive, not just for my allies sake, but for my own. How can anyone think clearly when drunk? I'm lucky to be alive after my eight hour stint with the whiskey. Sure, it stopped the constant problem of my shaking, but it was fucking stupid. It wasn't worth it, at all. I've decided that I'm not drinking again, I don't care how bad it gets, it's not happening. I've got people depending on me now, and getting drunk isn't helping anyone.

"I-I can’t move!"

My clothes are filthy. Obviously we don't have the luxury of washing or changing them. What was once a bright white marital arts uniform is now stained dirty crimson. My body is frail, with my ribcage visible through the torn open uwa-gi jacket, and the zubon are dirtied and scuffed at the bottom. As a result, I have removed the white obi and tied it around my head, using it like a sweat band. My chest is bared and vulnerable, but I'm beyond caring. I may look weak, but my mind is much stronger than it was a few days ago. I'm still as dangerous as anyone else.

To be honest, I don't even know who I am anymore. Maybe a few days ago, or even yesterday I thought I was moral, but now I'm not so sure. We're desperate. We're not even that - We're wild. I don't even feel like a person any more. Memories of home are fast fading, washed away in a sea of blood and a tide of trauma. Who and what am I? A killer? Do I still have that humanity left in me? No, I'm not a murderer yet, but something tells me that I'm not far away. Something tells me that I will lose my grip on Willis Keeni, and I'll become someone else. I don't know if that will be a good thing. It might be a good thing, it might not, but either way that person terrifies me.

"Help!

Killing is wrong. Murder is wrong. I don't care if it's forced, and I don't care if I die in the process. I've seen so many Tributes lose their minds in the Arena, metamorphosing into bloodthirsty demons, who's unstoppable hunger can never be satisfied. People like Gypsy, who turned on her own brother so that she could keep on living. She was always dark, but never like that. The Arena changed her, it made her what she became - Someone I hate. I want to laugh, but I am hollow and drained. All this time I've been trying so hard not to become Gypsy, and I failed to realise that instead I have become Pyrian. Quiet, conflicted, but determined all the same. Catch 22, that is.

Regardless, it doesn't matter who I am anymore. I'm just a boy with a sword, and I have a responsibility. I'm not a drunken slob anymore. I've hardened in my sobriety. Protecting Laila, Claire and Eye has become my purpose. They're all I have in this mad world, and although we don't talk as much any more, we are still bound in blood. If I'm not fighting for the man I've become, then I'm fighting for them. I can feel my sacrifice. I feel it when I try to wiggle my index finger on my right hand, and all I feel is my knuckle twitching, and a jolt of pain. I can feel it in my shattered knee cap that makes me want to cry out with every step. More than anything, I feel it in the pain that is yet to come. The sacrifice that I am yet to make.

"Hold on!"

Where am I? What's going on? I feel like I'm swimming in my own thoughts - Lost in a moment that's already gone. Trapped in a fracture of a second, but it's lasting a lifetime. Maybe I'm dead. Maybe my life is flashing before my eyes. No thanks, I've already seen it before, and it's boring. I need to get a grip on what's going on around me. Snap out of it Willis. Being lost in your thoughts is worse than being drunk.

When I snap out of my memory lapse, I'm standing in between Laila and a giant mole. I'm gripping my sword, planting my feet, and shouting at the Muttation. Malice and determination are ripe in my eyes, and a fire is flowing through me. I'm not drunk, I'm not high - I am focused. I know what to do and how to do it.

And on top of all that, my hands aren't shaking.

willis keeni

afterlife. oh my god, what an awful word
after all the breath and the dirt and the fires are burnt
and after all this time, and after all the ambulances go
and after all the hangers-on are done hanging on in the dead lights of the afterglow

Disbelief. That would be the word I would use to describe how I'm feeling right now. In one bright flash I cut that Muttation in two, watching it's upper body weight give way under the split leg. There was no resistance or struggle, it happened so fast that the beast didn't even have time to react. I cut clean through. I struck with an accuracy that I have only experienced when intoxicated. My hands aren't shaking, but I am certainly not drunk. I don't know what it is, or why it's happening, but my mental disorder has spontaneously gone. My breaths are heavy, my eyes are wild. This isn't right. Something's gone wrong inside me, and it's made me normal again. I'm cured, but I didn't do anything.

This is a good thing, there's no questioning that. All I've wanted since I was Reaped was for the shaking to go away, to give me an equal chance when it came to fighting. I tried drinking, I tried cold-turkey, neither of which were effective, but now it seems like I have been cleansed of my illness. I have been granted solace by some unknown force. I stare at my hands, waiting for the shaking to start again, but it doesn't. I feel a tingling inside me - It's a new-found pride, but there is fear there too. Fear of what has happened to my body. I'm no psychiatrist, but I'm pretty sure stuff like this doesn't just stop.

I glance over my shoulder, to check if the little girl from Five is still where I left her. The toxins have made her muscles rigid and immobile, so she is frozen uncomfortably to the spot. She'll be okay, so long as she stays there, and the other mole is occupied. I constantly check around use to make sure I'm not ambushed by another Mutt, or worse a band of Tributes. We need to get out of here. There may only be one of the creatures left, but if it paralyses us all, we're damned, stuck like sitting ducks. We can't risk that.

Eye runs past me, rushing to Laila's aid. He bends down and scoops her up in his arms, like she weighs nothing. Obviously he has the same idea as me - Get out of here, and fast. He doesn't glance back, jogging away from the giant mole. I turn to follow him, but then I hear Claire cry out as the Muttation strikes her in the face. I skid to a stop. She's paralysed, just like Laila was. Eye and Laila are getting away, but Claire is still in trouble. Do we just leave her? We're allies and all, but Claire is definitely the most expendable member of the group. In the end, she's gotta die anyway, right? Kill or be killed.

What am I thinking? She's on our side. We can't leave her, can we? We? There is no we, Willis. You're on your own here. This decision is burning me. Risk my life for a girl I barely know, or live with the fact that I let her die.
"Ripred damn..." I run towards Claire, waving my arms in the air to get the mole's attention. It's blind you fucking idiot. I start shouting, making as much noise as I can to draw it away from Claire. The moment it turns towards me, I break into a full on sprint towards Claire. My mind is racing, trapped in the moment. It's all happened so fast that I don't have time to regret my decision. It's too late to change my mind - I'm saving Claire Partridge.

I charge in, driving in low and grabbing Claire's legs. I lean back, hosting her up onto my shoulder in a reverse fireman's lift. Scrambling out of the reach of the Mutt, I kick on and catch up to Eye and Laila. Claire's so light compared to Eye, at least half his weight, so it's barely any trouble for me to move quickly, even with my shattered knee cap. I grimace with every step, but I'm comforted in the knowledge that every step I take is a step away from danger.

"Hang in there Claire, we're gonna patch you up!" I say to her, not really expecting a response. Claire is very refrained, but that's only 'cause she's tough as nails. She's probably the strongest mentally out of all of us. If anyone's gonna come out of this sane, it's her. I wish I hadn't sprinted, mainly because I'm feeling it in my knee now. For all I know I could have aggravated it, and made it worse. The last thing I want is an inflammation. I'm useless to everybody if I can't walk. Maybe I should have just left Claire to die. I guess it all happened so fast, and I had to make a split-second decision. I find myself wondering if it was the right one.

To be honest, I'm not sure which way would have panned out better. Eye and Laila were gone so fast, I could easily have lied and said that the mole killed her. They wouldn't blame me, then. Still, could I live with myself? I have a dark side, there's no questioning that. I've done stuff I'm not proud of. Spat on Pyrian's grave, stabbed a man with a smashed bottle, snorted cocaine a motel bathroom. When we're playing with other people's lives, it's different. This may all be one big sick Game, and we may not be who we used to be, but despite all that, we're still people. Claire deserves a chance, just like the rest of us. I try to bury my dark side - Refuse it alcohol and it seems to go away. Just thinking about how nasty I can get is making me all the more determined to give up the drink for good.

The Claire dilemma plays on my mind for longer than it should. I saved the girl's life for Ripred's sake, that's got to be a good thing. She would have been dead if not for me - And where were Laila and Eye? Laila could move at that point, but Eye still grabbed her and ran. He left us. Not just Claire, but he left me too, without so much as a glance over his shoulder. I can't think like that. He was just trying to get Laila to safety. Would I have done the same thing? Trust and loyalty is definitely being put under pressure here. Maybe I did make the right call in saving Claire - They're sure to trust me more now, right? That's what I want. Trust. Trust keeps you alive.

[Willis flees, and helps Claire to flee]
[Willis uses First Aid on himself for -3]
[Willis uses 5ft of Bandages on himself for -1]