with our backs to the wall {preston/paige jb thread}{blitz}

[attr="class","EWcontainer2temp4"]

His world had come crashing down with two simple words, those words being ones that he would never dare speak in front of a crowd, in front of the thousands of people watching this lottery of death chanting for death. The words would never be spoken from his mouth, he'd never live long enough to face the day that the words "I volunteer" would escape his lips. His sister-- sisters are never going to return with breathes escaping their lungs to this district outside of a wooden box with their skin bled white from the game of unscathed swords and distrust. His eyes would be painted with red and blues, purples and blacks as they're deprived from sleep because the only thing that echoes inside his mind during the night is her words that caused him to be in the room that he barely fits in with the other giant of a male.

He didn't like that room, it smelled of sweat.

It smelled of broken memories.

It smelled of broken eyes, as the face of death stared at them and cackled in their face.

It smelled of ash, how similar of a smell that is to him already, almost like a friend.

And all of those things are a mixture and poured into a bowl labeled with the two words that brought him to live inside concrete walls, whispering to him in the silence that filled those halls. Those halls filled with cases of innocence. The guilty one being the monster that chews on twenty four and spits one out, keeping the bones and aftertaste of blood of the twenty three others boiling in its mouth.

The first thing he wants to do is scream at her, but when he tries to open his mouth; no words escape.

He doesn't feel sorry.