half of a heart // kaiser reaction

Life was a fucking buzz; easy to kill. Kaiser Fray knew that for a fact. Souls were like cherries he could smash between bloody fingers, and there was a chance higher than heaven that the Fray twins had been born without a conscience. That was the foundation of their lives; a lack of morale. Scout was the type of girl to savor every drop of suffering, leaving her victims balancing between wishing for blissful death and pleading for her not to kill them because they were so young. She drank their screams like sweet nectar and Kaiser was always there to say he was proud of her, even if he didn’t care for torture. His tastes were redder and messier, a clean-up job Scout didn’t enjoy as much. However, they found a way to cooperate. An “everybody wins” scenario.

Despite their violent endeavors, there was a lack of excitement in the Fray family. They were a prestigious bloodline without tributes to show for it, and with no solid legacy their pedestal was short and colored with mockery. It was grey and boring, so his parents had reduced themselves to desperate losers who adopted career kids to increase their odds. He wasn’t bitter as much was he was disappointed. A pure bloodline would be unique. Now he was among strangers, not that they weren’t entertaining.

He would’ve been offended if one of the strays had been Reaped first. They didn’t deserve to carry the Fray name on their backs when it was their first turn in the Games, but fortunately he had such an understanding sister. She volunteered in the place of a nobody who would surely fail the District with pitiful stunts. Screw waiting; sometimes they had to take what they deserved, and they had done plenty of taking in the past. The Reaping was no different. The Frays deserved their moment of glory, and there was nobody as worthy as Scout. After she claimed her spot on the stage, said her goodbyes, and boarded the train to her destiny, Kaiser celebrated for a week.

He spent the rest of the time watching her be a badass on television. Whatever mayhem she was causing in the training center, the Gamemakers must’ve hated it. They punished her with a low training score because whatever she did, it was too gory and badass for their eyes to handle. They didn’t have the same savage tastes as the Fray twins did, but they would be in for a shocker soon enough. Scout was going to tear that arena apart. Skeletons would lay in her wake, stained with the blood and ashes of the bodies they once belonged to. It would be a tribute massacre with Scout standing in the midst, golden crown atop her head.

The bloodbath was just a fluke. Tributes always stumbled and relied on the wind to lead them through what was usually a massacre. He had no idea what Scout’s strategy was, but he assumed she was saving the good shit for later. Everyone was hobbling away with broken bones and severed parts – maybe it was smart to leave early after all. She couldn’t corner anyone during a storm. Her absence reduced the bloodbath to a bore, but his faith didn’t falter. Nothing would stand in his twin’s path. Not a bolt of lightning, not some weak tribute, and not those shields she called allies. Kaiser knew for a fact she didn’t give a shit about any of them, not even that Lexig fucker. The blonde hottie and the Eckhart were just bait. Disposable. Scout would probably end them herself if nobody else did.

A day later, he wondered why Scout hadn’t murdered Quadrys herself. Was it to humiliate him? Death by a District Twelve was something that would bring shame upon the Lexig family, but Celia was a different breed of Twelve. He could see it in her eyes and manner – something that resembled Scout, but still developing. She was cruel and didn’t give a fuck. No wonder Scout admired her, and hell, he didn’t care if she got a little action. She deserved it.

He watched her over the course of four days. No skeleton could match her strength, no alliance could break her down. She finally abandoned her useless herd and joined Celia to duel-wield death’s favorite scythe. Kaiser knew they could destroy everything, and then when Scout was finally satisfied, she’d slit Celia’s throat too. All of the stars would align at that moment, and the Frays’ wish for a victor would be granted.

Or so he thought.

He always assumed that ’Games change you’ dynamic was bullshit. Yeah, maybe it changed wimps and inexperienced lower District weaklings but it was not supposed to change somebody as rock solid as Scout. She was a constant stream of darkness in his life. The good kind. Not good for the graveyard, but good in terms of their shared interest in violent, illegal fun. She was supposed to act as her usual, merciless self yet collapsed at the hand of that girl with the sexy hair color. A skilled career battle, yet Scout could’ve evaded every move. That’s what their training was for, right? For the real scenario. So what was happening? Was she too hot, too thirsty, too hungry, too fatigued? Surely there was a logical fucking explanation for this.

She fell and didn’t climb up again. The redhead got diced a moment later by Celia, who was surpassing her own reputation. Scout had a nasty gash on her chest, and he knew it must’ve stung like a bitch and made her breathing ragged, but why couldn’t she stand up again? Frays were sturdy. She had nerves crafted from steel but she would not budge.

She said his name like this was a final moment, but she was fine.

And who the fuck was Celia to convince her she was dying? Who was this girl to be worshiped like a trophy by his own twin sister? This was no girl worth fawning over for more than a second, yet here Scout lay at her feet, teeth dyed red with her own blood. She handed Celia a knife.

”NO!”

His fist buried itself in the cushion of the couch, the screen buzzing with the sound of the blade reaching through Scout’s ribs. That familiar squelch was something they normally cherished together, but not when it was Scout’s fucking heart.

”This is BULLSHIT!” His bellow drowned out the echo of the cannon. Anger coursed through him like a drug, an adrenaline rush he didn’t want. Scout was not supposed to die. She was not supposed to leave an arena barren with no kills, her life in the hands of a Twelve tribute. She was not supposed to be a poor example of the Fray family. She was not supposed to leave him empty-handed.

”BULLSHIT!”

A red hurricane billowed in his chest. He flipped their dinner table, vase of flowers crashing against the floor like the useless fucking decoration it was. The shatter did not scream as loud as his rage. Together they had been an unstoppable duo, like stitches woven together that were not meant to be torn apart. For the first time in his life, he was lost, so he decided to do the one familiar thing he could count on to satisfy himself and Scout's resting soul.

Kill.

He stormed out with a knife and spilled blood in her name.