Never Get You Right // [70th Train] May 30, 2015 15:37:20 GMT -5
Post by my 1st gf turned into the moon on May 30, 2015 15:37:20 GMT -5
My thoughts are racing as fast as the train across the broken landscape of Panem. My chest is tightening, my hands shaking, and if the small ringing noise in my head doesn't stop soon I'm going to fucking kill someone. That's what they want isn't it? Dead people? They take me away from my home, take me away from my family, and take me away from the love of my life and I guess dead people is what they are going to get. As of right now, I'm happy to oblige.
The rage swelling up inside me may just get me in trouble this time. But at least I can't hurt anyone, can't kill anyone. Not repeating history today, just breaking more glass, flipping more beds, and punching more walls. The ringing in my ears grows louder, louder, louder---
"Today was supposed to be a good fucking day!" I scream at the wall across from me, a blank wall, as blank and empty as my heart. Everything is gone now, slowly slipping through my fingers. I never apologized to my parents or my siblings. I never confronted them. I never visited my sister's grave, the grave I should've dug and then crawled into right after her coffin was lowered into it. I should've drowned in the dark dirt that the rest of my family tossed on top of her. Instead I ran. And hid. And just when I thought I would fix it all - fix who I was - and ask the only girl I've ever loved to marry me, I had to hold my tongue.
I pull the ring out of my pocket, shooting off the bed when I can't find it in my pocket. "What?" I murmur to myself in horror, only to find it in the other pocket. I stare at it for a moment; the not so silver band and the not so beautifully cut stone are silent as I breathe heavily. I wind up, throwing my hand back over my shoulder, aiming for the blank, empty wall in front of me. But even as the rage pulses through my veins and begins to seize control of my muscles, I can't make myself throw it away. Instead my knees grow weak and I struggle to catch myself on the bed behind me.
I slide the ring back into my pocket.
I take deep breaths - inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. My heart slows. My head stops aching. My hands don't tremble in front of me. All that is left of my rage is the blank, empty wall still sitting in front of me.
I stand to leave, making sure to throw the vase of flowers at the empty wall before I make my way to the dining car - or what I assume is the dining car seeing as piles of food had been sitting there when I got on the train.
I don't wait for approval or someone to tell me to sit down to eat, I just stare out over the seemingly endless array of food. I grab an apple from a bowl near the center of the table before setting myself down in a chair near the window.
I take a bite.
But it doesn't taste like home.
“Men in rage strike those that wish them best.”