'Til you press restart (Hettinis Day 2)
Feb 24, 2016 12:50:21 GMT -5
Post by kousei ♚ on Feb 24, 2016 12:50:21 GMT -5
i n s a n i s .{This could be
Para-para-paradise}
"We'll be back later." I told them before leading Hettie away from the kids.
I don't know if I can really call Cecilia a kid any more because to be honest she really impressed me today. She left her screaming and burning. Her corpse is probably black by now and her flesh as hard as a rock. One thing's for sure, she's definitely dead. Still, she's not the one I want dead her friends are. District Eight, Seven and Three. I finally remembered what Districts they are from but honestly I couldn't care less about their names. Judgement will come for them. The reason for that is injured and clinging to my body. She's in pain and that's good. It means she's alive.
I can feel her warm blood trickling on my body and soaking into my clothes. The iron smell of blood has been following us since we fled that fight in each other's arms and I definitely know it's not from me. I can tell every step we take is pure agony for her. But yet I don't enjoy it, why don't I feel the ecstasy I felt when I smashed Delta's face. When it was Delta all I wanted to do was add to her suffering, when it was Delta the one thing I longed for was to see her cry. But with Hettie. I want nothing more than to stop and rest her on the ground, just so I can begin fixing up her wounds as best as I can.
For the first time in my life I want to relieve suffering.
I know it's stupid, especially the fact that she is a career. All she's done is train to kill guys like me.] She's probably envisioned skewering guys like me on the end of some kind of oversized sword or spear. She's probably used a sword to decapitate and dummy and been told to envision it as guys like me. The moment she got her hands on that hammer she's probably have the thought of smashing guys like me with it and caving our pretty faces in.
Every one of my instinct scream at me, they tell me that I should finish her off because Hettie Cheyne is dangerous and will very well be the end of me.
Fuck my instincts.
She's the queen and together we'll pass judgement on the people that dares violate her flesh with their impure steel. My hammer will find their bones and tear away at their flesh, it will spill their blood so perfectly I'll feel like I did when I saw Delta's face. Even that won't be enough. Her blood is almost as perfect as mine while theirs is nothing but filth to feed my desires. Their bodies are nothing but flesh to add to the mountain. We'll stand on the top together me and Hettie before one of us has to fall.
My fatigue is grinding me down into dust. That fight was not longer than seven minutes and I already feel so fucking disgusting. Mud from my fall down the hole sticks to my elbows in mockery (no matter how much I scrape it won't go away) and sweat's already begun to show. This heat is unbearable. And my wound (that was hastily stitched and patched up to a decent quality) has been reduced to a simple dull ache. Even my hammer's once glittering state that I could behold through the fog at the cornucopia has eroded away into nothing but a memory and has been replaced with the red blood of three different tributes I've struck.
We're both hungry for more.
Oh fuck it.
I've denied my limbs a rest for so long and I think they very well deserve it and honestly I think we're far enough from the kids. Every one of my limbs scream, beg, plead me for a rest. "Let's stop here." I command and honestly she is in no state to object because she's the one with gashes riddling her body while I'm untouched. I wince as I put her down on the ground and sit her up, the cut on my side screams at me and angrily demands my attention. Well, almost untouched.
I examine her body, the hole on her chest glaring up at me in mockery. Even her face wasn't safe from the slaughter as evidenced by the much shallower cut on her cheek. I clench my jaw just to stop my hands shaking with rage. How dare they touch her perfect face. Nothing can be done about it now, all I can do is prevent them getting infected.
(An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.)
The voice behind makes me quickly glance behind me but I'm only met with the empty field. Yea, I better do my best to stop this from getting infected.
This is going to hurt her. It can't be helped, I have to fix these wounds. I need to make her my perfect queen again.
I'm reaching into her bag for her bandages because I hope she has a medical kit in there somewhere. I feel the fabric and I feel a sense of relief. Got it. I grab her needle and thread next because I felt two ugly gashes on her back. "This is gonna hurt." I tell her solemnly and bite my bottom lip as I begin to unravel the material.
It's the first time I've said those words without a smile on my face.