death comes for us /all/ [Kendrick DP]

It's hard letting go
I'm finally at peace
but it feels wrong

It doesn't hurt.

The blade that scores its way through your neck, severing bone and breath, feels more akin to a choke than a wound. Blood spews itself all over the walls; it pours down your front, across the girl that's sealed your fate, pooling underneath your feet that shake and tremble. If you could, you'd laugh at the irony of being killed by a child, but the previous hole she's put in your chest makes it too hard to find the energy. You crumble to your knees instead, your hand gripping the weeping slit that stretches around your neck like a grimace, and know there's no coming back from this one. Your blade snaps, the handle coming away in your hand, and someone picks up the edge red with the blood of the boy you'll soon be joining.

It's cold and your fingers feel numb as someone screams - they're all screaming, really, you're the only one that's soft and silent, the voices of tributes that have come before you whispering out of the shadows. You gargle, blood dribbling out of your mouth, matting your wild hair. What was it your sister used to say about it? That nothing could keep you from harm more than your locks, slung over your shoulders like Jason's golden fleece, a fitting cape for a god fallen to earth. But gods don't die at the hands of little girls and your mortality weighs in your stomach like a stone, and through the knowledge that you're dying is the bitter disappointment of not showing your people how powerful you're capable of being. Your sister has to watch you die like you've watched so many others, choking on your own blood. Her necklace burns your skin but you can't will yourself to remove it, the last piece of home you're ever going to see.

Someone grabs your arms and starts to haul you away, through the tunnels and the wet, wet stone; they don't follow you. Why would they? They've done their damage, your life bleeding out all over your front - through the dimness you see the child crying but your hazy brain doesn't even have the energy to spit on her memory anymore. It's just the Games, you've always heard, but it doesn't feel like one with the way one of your allies is pressing their trembling hands to your neck, wetting their skin on a wound unable to be mended. That almost hurts more - Galaxy's crying at you to hold on, to get through it, but your feet have gone numb and your damp clothing weighs you down, sinks you into the stone wall you sit against, her hair a halo that flashes red and red again in the half-shadows your mind starts to create. Everything turns on itself and your bloodied fingers touch her wrist, gently as a lover's caress, and brings it into your lap instead. It's not worth crying over.

Your other hand clumsily fumbles for your sister's pendant; the last remnant of her you will ever have, a trinket from your lost parents when you were young. You won't let the arena take it, not like they've taken everything else. You tug it from your neck, the horse-shoe a crimson gold, and pool it in her hand you still hold. It fits well there, like it was meant to mesh with her complexion pale as porcelain. If you could you'd tell her, apologize for not being as strong as you thought you once were, but all that comes out is a soft gurgle. It means the same.

Win.

a thousand silhouettes dancing on my chest
no matter where I sleep,
you are haunting me

You stroke her palm so gingerly before closing it, pressing it into a weak fist. All the things that used to matter bleed out in time to the pump of your heart, so feeble now you can barely feel it at all. The world shrouds itself in a mist that you can touch, stroking the strong push of your cheekbones that once so reminded you of your father.

A buzzing by your ear reminds you that your death is a sideshow attraction, the audience on the outside hanging on every wheezing breath until it cuts out entirely. You refuse to be an example, the lens zooming in on your face as the lights go out and the darkness swallows everything whole. Whoever you're leaning against tries to resist as you struggle to your knees, but a trembling hand on their thigh stops them. You don't know if it's Valerie or Tauankia; everything is dark now, echoing, a long tunnel with no end in sight. You won't find the light, not after all you've done. You wonder if there's another place for people like you, repentant too late for sins that were inevitable. You remember Tauankia crying in the darkness and hope his death is swifter than yours.

As you stand more blood pumps out until you're slipping on it, stumbling, your head drooping so low it almost touches your chest. The hiss of the rapids turns into a roar until it's deafening, and though your hearing has faded to a murmur it's impossible to miss. Galaxy's voice is the last thing in your head and you cling onto it in hopes that you'll remember anything at all, a sliver of sound to replace the void you feel yawning ahead, just barely out of reach.

You take a short glance back at your allies, three slim shadows slumped on the side, and swallow. The handle of your blade is warm and you stroke it, running your touch over the engraving on the side.

Just you and me, Luciana.

It doesn't take much for you to wobble, teetering on the edge before throwing yourself into the water.

The rocks slam you against the sides but you don't bother to fight for the surface, your limbs like lead as water rushes into your lungs. Your body follows the twisting tunnels of the cave and the coldness immobilizes you entirely, your mind sluggish and quiet; everything is silent and as you slowly come to a stop, all you see is the gently shimmering surface of the still pond you've found. You roll over and over like a dead fish, your soul tugging itself from the gentle part of your mouth. It would hurt, but your chest is perfectly still and silent.

A mountain swallowed by the ocean, never to be seen again.

.:the end of Kendrick Draper:.

there's nothing that I'd take back
But it's hard to say
there's nothing I regret