catalysis // DrEvilsin

Onyx
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in between somewhere and nowhere

catalysis // DrEvilsin Mar 15, 2016 16:30:27 GMT -5

Post by Onyx on Mar 15, 2016 16:30:27 GMT -5

“I've got my enemies within my sight”

JESSE TRIVITT - EIGHTEEN - DISTRICT ONE

Time has stopped. In its place there is only my movement, forwards, forwards, forwards (and away, away, always away, from my pursuers), down roads, over boxes and gates, through alleyways, kicking up dust and dirt which, in this illusion of slowed time, seem to hang like poppy seeds in syrup. I run, oh, I run, but I'm not afraid. The fear came in a flash before I started running and just like that was gone again, and in its place are only the hot rush of blood, the punching drumbeat of my heart in my ears, the stink of my own sweaty body and my pounding feet as I sprint through the District. Every now and again, I can hear the drilling noise that the vehicle engine makes as it careers over cobblestones somewhere behind me - having to take the long way round as it can't fit through these narrower streets. I know that sooner or later they'll catch up with me, but as long as I keep running, as long as I keep time slow and everyone else's actions lethargic, I know I can make it later.

It feels like I've been running my whole life. Ever since my father married that bitch, I've wanted nothing more than to cause them both as much grief as possible. And everyone knows the fastest way to a cow's hateful heart is through getting her in trouble. What did I do this time? Can I remember? Every instance of vandalism, moderate violence, harrassment of a Peacekeeper, and any other behaviour deemed "inappropriate" for a would-be Career and District representative has, by this point, blended into one, big, beautiful mess of chaos and embarrassment for my "parents". I've learnt how to take the pain of the whip - beyond the cigarette burns and beatings I receive at home giving me a higher tolerance for injury, the fiery welts doled out to me are always sweeter knowing they were for a good cause.

But I know I can't effectively cause trouble in the few days after receiving a lashing. Those days are for getting congratulated by other undesirables, and drinking to help ignore the hurting. That's why today, as soon as I was done swearing and spitting in the direction of my foes, I took off as fast as I could - which, when I need it to be, is fast. I match every beat of my racing heart with a beat from one of my racing feet. A shriek of joy and excitement erupts from my lungs. "Catch me if you can, fuckers!" I hoot. The truck grunts louder, but still I am confident I have it under control. It's the raging bull, but I'm the toreador. While I have my freedom, and my desire to rebel, I know I'm unstoppable.

I take the liberty of glancing back behind me as I run. The street corners whiz by, the square I passed through only minutes before already shrinking like a fractal towards its vanishing point. My arms pump like living pendulums, fists clenched tight as I drive myself forwards. A few tufts of my blonde hair, cut short for easy disguise under a hat (and simply because I like it better that way) flutter away from my forehead, the rest are stuck there by my sweaty, shining brow. The wind whistles past my turned head and whistles triumphant encouragement in my ears. I'm winning - I can feel it.

The fact that then, all of a sudden, I'm not running but, in fact, lying dazed on the ground, does not dawn on me immediately. My brain is still yelling "go on! Go on!" to my legs, my heart is still pumping oxygen around my veins with the force of a steam train, but my body itself lies still and startled. My face and shoulder throb, most likely because of running into whatever is now looming above me, backlit by the sun too harshly to make out any features. I try to talk, but only a slurred mumble comes out between my heavy breaths.

A cold feeling has started to reenter my stomach and chest where the adrenaline has faded. I hear the engine noises again, closer now than ever before, and this time accompanied by shouts. I know they can't be far now. Come on, I will myself,get up, get away, don't give up now. However, before I can obey myself, I am paralysed by a dreadful realisation. Now, for the first time in this chase, I really am afraid.

Words: 753 Tagged: drevilsin
Notes: welcome again, hope you enjoy this thread!
© delusional

someday we'll be drinking with the seldom seen kid

drevilsin
Hunter

92 POSTS

last seen Mar 29, 2017 8:53:11 GMT -5

catalysis // DrEvilsin Mar 17, 2016 15:42:43 GMT -5

Post by drevilsin on Mar 17, 2016 15:42:43 GMT -5

It was a beautiful day outside. Birds were singing, flowers were blooming, and on days like these, Benit spent the time training nonstop in his backyard. To him it was a day like any other. Wake up, eat, train, eat, train, sleep, repeat. But there was also something different today. It was the sound of a rumbling engine, the one of a truck that rarely passed through the district. This was not anything that bothered Benit, however. Yet a voice in the back of his mind was intrigued by the truck, as he had still only seen one in his life, and that was when he was sent to the Detention Center two years ago.

Slinging the sword he was fighting with across his back, Benit went out into the street to see why the truck was even coming down when he heard a girl yell at the moving vehicle. “Catch me if you can, fuckers!” she screamed as he watched her turn back and run towards him. Within a moment or two, she was only several meters away. Time seemed to slow down. He knew exactly how to move out of the way, but he froze for the first time in his life. The voice in the back of his mind seemed to be speaking again, telling him to ~~attack~~ help her. “She’s being chased by peacekeepers,” it told him, “If we don’t do something, she’ll end up like us.” It was the first time in his life Benit had listened to the voice, and it was also the first time Benit was taken off guard as the girl collided with him.

Crashing to the ground, Benit felt the weight of the sword leave him as it clattered several feet away from him. The sensation that followed was a sharp pain in his arm as he landed roughly on it. All that Benit could do was look at the approaching truck that was now several meters from his face. He knew they were going to blame him for the girl’s outbursts too, they always did. However, getting up was a bit hard for Benit. Whenever he tried to put weight onto his arm, pain shot up his body. When the peacekeepers got out of the truck, Benit realized that there was no way to get out of the situation. It was the same peacekeeper that he thought killed his mother, and the same one that had beaten Benit time and time again for a little crime he had committed. He knew that the peacekeeper would be overjoyed to lock Benit back up in the Detention Center, as he liked the way Benit screamed every time he was beaten to a pulp.

As the peacekeeper approached Benit and a second approached the girl beside him, Benit received a message in his mind that he had never heard before. “Run,” it said, “Run like you’ve never run before or else you’ll be spending time in the Center again.” Benit, however, was never the type to run away, and he stayed put, no matter what his instincts told him to do. All he did was watch the peacekeeper reach out and grab his injured arm as Benit screamed out in pain, and then Benit was slowly dragged to the truck to ensure he was scraped up and bloody by the time he was placed in the back. “That’s why you don’t listen to the voices in your head,” he thought.

Last Edit: Mar 17, 2016 20:21:52 GMT -5 by drevilsin

Onyx
Capitol Resident

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last seen Jan 3, 2023 15:20:14 GMT -5

in between somewhere and nowhere

catalysis // DrEvilsin Mar 21, 2016 7:25:42 GMT -5

Post by Onyx on Mar 21, 2016 7:25:42 GMT -5

“and i'm bleeding right before the lord”

jesse trivitt - eighteen - district one

My ears ring like a bomb’s gone off right next to me, and that’s exactly what the aching in my chest and arms, and the blinding brightness that fills my vision, remind me of, too. I lie on the ground in a daze, unable to speak, see or hear. All I can really do is feel, and the sense of touch, lying almost invisibly under the thick blanket of pain that covers my whole body, makes me aware of the series of events which happen immediately after I hit the body in front of me, and then the ground.

First, I feel the pressure of another body across my leg. The stranger who blocked my escape clearly fell with me – who knew I was going fast enough to be that powerful? I take a moment of pride at my speed, and then regretfully chide myself again for my carelessness in checking the way was clear. Next, I am aware that the rumbling vibrations of the truck careering through the streets have whirred to a halt – and close by, too. Shit. I’m caught now, I know. I try to move, but the weight on my leg is too great and all I do is writhe, like the maggot of some large, scrawny insect. Or like trapped prey.

A pooling headache forms and fades at the front of my skull, telling me that it’s safe to stop squinting my eyes and look up at the world, which is no longer overexposed. However, when I do so, the scene in front of me is no less white and gleaming. Have I gone blind? Suddenly, I feel gravel being kicked against my face as a boot comes to a melodramatic stop right by where I’m lying. I realise that what I must be looking at isn’t due to a retinal error, but is the cold, hard, and very real shell of a Peacekeeper’s body armour.

A rough hand grabs me by the collar of my blue shirt, tugging the buttoned front against my neck so I choke suddenly. As I begin to be dragged backwards, my arms rise and fall limply and I splutter out a defiant “Fuck you”. I can feel the loose stones tearing holes in the backs of my trousers and digging into the skin there. Let them make me bleed. Although I can’t see where I’m going, I manage to turn my head away from my gaoler’s arm and towards my companion, who is letting out shrieks of pain as he is similarly tugged by one arm, which is beginning to bloom vivid bruises. I want to apologise, but seeing him yelp and cry so weakly, I can only be embarrassed that he isn’t stolid, like I am. Perhaps he just hasn’t been caught as many times as I have, and isn’t so used to the brutality.

The truck we are heaved into is green and beginning to rust – an old model, unlike the new, six-wheeled monstrosities which are only brought out on very special occasion; vehicles which I’ve only seen once or twice, but never managed to summon myself. Yet. The back is sealed by a mesh door which the second Peacekeeper closes and locks, and I notice quickly that the lock and bolt mechanism is nowhere near as old as the truck itself. There would be almost no point in trying to break it, so I start to look around for another way out.

All the time that I sit, patiently waiting for the truck to start trundling towards the Discipline Bay, and then onwards to the Detention Centre once they realise that there’s no use interrogating a seasoned regular, who could hold out to the last, and a whimpering bystander with nothing interesting to say, my companion regards me with a mix of bitterness and, I think, fear. I grin at him wildly for a second, and then let my face drop into a hostile blank. “What are you looking at?” I ask, playing the bully even though I know that this stranger could beat me to a pulp if he wanted to. But when has that ever stopped me saying something stupid before? “This all new to you, huh? Don’t worry, I’ll give you a tour as soon as we get in.” I gurn, and then smirk, settling back into peaceful stillness as I continue to search the container we sit in. Everything, from the walls and floor to the benches themselves, seems to be unbreakable, and these Peacekeepers haven’t left any implements in the back which I could use as a weapon. It has to be first work, or no work at all – and it’s looking like the latter. I guess to get out of here, I’m going to have to get dramatic.

someday we'll be drinking with the seldom seen kid

drevilsin
Hunter

92 POSTS

last seen Mar 29, 2017 8:53:11 GMT -5

catalysis // DrEvilsin Mar 30, 2016 21:59:19 GMT -5

Post by drevilsin on Mar 30, 2016 21:59:19 GMT -5

His whole body ached as he sat in the back of the truck with the girl, and for the first time in several years, he felt afraid. Afraid that he’d never be able to see fresh air again if he stepped foot into the Detention Center. He could still remember the cold gray walls pressing in around him on all sides, nothing to keep him company in his cell aside from the rusty metal frame that had served as his bed. The metallic, rusty air around him only felt suffocating, but Benit snapped back to his senses when he heard the girl say, “What are you looking at?”Benit could start to feel anger seeping into his head. How dare she speak to him like that? Who did she think she was? “This all new to you, huh? Don’t worry, I’ll give you a tour as soon as we get in.” The girl said, mockingly, and Benit snapped.

“You think you’re tough?” He questioned as he slammed his palm down onto the cold hard bench he was sitting on. “I’ve been in there before, suffering for months at a time. You know how many I’ve killed? How many they’ve killed?” He yelled at the top of his lungs. His anger could not be suppressed anymore as he stood up and walked over to the girl. She gave him a sly, defiant look, and Benit reaffirmed his conviction. The little runt deserved to be punished. He didn’t care about the blood seeping out of his wounds or the burning sensation in his injured left arm. “Do you want to feel my pain?” he yelled before losing control to his violent temper, which he had inherited from Ricky, and lunging at the girl.