Behind Blue Eyes, Everything Matters (Jackson Samuels DP)

uwu
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Behind Blue Eyes, Everything Matters (Jackson Samuels DP) Oct 31, 2016 7:51:43 GMT -5

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Post by uwu on Oct 31, 2016 7:51:43 GMT -5

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She yells something up at the sky, to Atticus, about how monsters aren't always under her bed. Those words hurt much more than every bone she has crushed in the fight, every deep gash I've received from somebody, and every person I had to kick out. To make matters even worse, I agree with her completely. What have I become? What will I become? Is this what happened to other tributes? Why did I have to continue fighting? I shouldn't have counted. What a monster I have truly become. I look back at the fellow tribute with tears streaming down my eyes. Will she ever forgive me? Do I even deserve to be forgiven? I sure as hell don't be forgiven, let a lone, alive.

Next thing I know, she swings her weapon and hits me on my wrist. Just like almost everything else she hit, it shatters. Unlike all the others, something else feels different. I can't place it. It doesn't feel normal. I begin to sway. Am I... am I dying? What is this? I look down with furrowed eyebrows, trying to comprehend everything. I am dying. So this is how it ends. Didn't even get to the final 10. What is this? I guess that guy was right. There are no victors from District 6. But there's still Maye. I think. I really hope that the canon wasn't for her. Please for the love of RIpred let that not be her.

I look back at the tribute with a small, melancholy-filled smile. I notice tears running down her checks as well.I can't look at her directly into the eyes. I am aware now of how everything's gonna be fine one day. But it's too late,for me. I'm in hell. I am prepared now. Seems everyone's gonna be fine. One day too late, just as well. I feel utterly ashamed to even be here. "I'm sorry, Jackson. My name is Deja." Deja? What a unique name. I get the courage to look back at her. What do i do know? For whatever reason, I decide to give her a thumbs up. What the hell was that? I guess it was better than nothing.

There are millions of thoughts that i want to say to her, about how bloody sorry I feel, that I was an idiot, how I wish I could have done everything over again, how shitty I feel, but my mouth seems to have disconnected from my mouth. I put my hand into my pocket. I pull out my penny, the one given to me by my best friend. I do my best to give myself a smile or a good memory of me and him, or even me and my family, but it's getting harder and harder as each second passes. Ha, I thought this was supposed to be lucky. I guess it only gives luck to those who found it. Look where I am now? If anybody’s watching, I’m sorry. I guess I’ll be seeing you all in the afterlife. I look up one more time, crying my eyes out. I don’t know how loud I am, but I do know that i am crying.

All of a sudden, my legs give away from under me, as though I were a puppet. It’s getting closer. My time is coming to a halt. Is this how Jackson Samuels ends? I guess so. Maybe I’ll be remembered by the audience. Maybe I’ll be fan favorite for fighting elegantly. Maybe I’ll be remembered as a traitor who backstabbed a “friend”. I’ll never know, will I? ”Deja… take good care…” I cough up blood. ”Take good care of yourself. And please don’t forget…” I hack up more blood. ”Don’t forget to tell them I love them, and I’m sorry. I am so fucking sorry.” With the last words, I know that I can’t do much more. I lay on the cold hard ground, bleeding out. I cannot do anything more than wait out my death. Please don’t forget.

*

Last Edit: Nov 4, 2016 20:43:28 GMT -5 by uwu

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Behind Blue Eyes, Everything Matters (Jackson Samuels DP) Nov 4, 2016 20:39:08 GMT -5

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Post by * on Nov 4, 2016 20:39:08 GMT -5

Deja Hatcher
Thirteen | Female | District 3

For every reason that I can't even think of, I fought this boy, this Jackson. He was eighteen years old, barely there from no longer being able to be reaped and here he was with me. I was some thirteen year old girl with a past who was thrust in an arena with kids so much older than I was. The odds were against me in so many ways. How was it that I was given that lucky moment to be dragged away from home, tweaked and poked in the capitol for perfection and then dropped into an arene where all of that went to shit? That weapon in my hands is a death sentence for anyone who shall cross my path with it. Then again, maybe it's the handler? Maybe, the sheer determination that I have to be able to get out of this arena is enough that I don't need hope and luck. Maybe, I just have that little bit of bite in my system afterall to overcome the odds stacked against me.

I hope so. For Jackson's sake...

"I'm sorry, Jackson. My name is Deja." Something compelled me to tell him my name at the very last moment that I thought it would count. I went against everything I had previously said to him.

And he stands there, blood dripping from the various holes where the dagger like spikes bit into his body, caressing his blood; pining for it to expell from his body just as mine was doing. For some reason, he stands there like an idiot. He doesn't move at all. I'm thinking the shock of me actually telling him my name was enough to put him into a trans. His thumb suddenly rises and gives me a gesture that I don't completely understand.Why is he praising me? I've done nothing but break his bones and spill his blood. It was an eye for a eye.

I can no longer move. I can only watch Jackson as he retrieves a penny from his pocket and look at it. What an odd peice of treasure to hold onto. What a weird peice of a token to bring into this arena. I touch my neck, holding onto the ballet slippers dangling from the chain. They mean so much to me. What does that penny mean to him?

"Jackson..." I whisper, my voice barely audible as I watch him fall. He crumples to the ground with liquid seeping through the holes my weapon decorated his body with. I did this. I created those injuries on him and broke him down to bits. His body collects to the ground in a heap, and my breath hitches. My eyes go lurking from him to the sky to the area around me. I'm curious if I need to go hide, or hit him again. Should I try to console him now and help his death seem less dramatic? What do I...

"Deja... take good care... take good care of yoruslf. And please don't forget."

"Forget what?" I whisper, my hands releasing the weapon and it crashes to the ground. My stomach has ignited with fire but I dismiss it as a sign of regret. All of this, I will regret, but this is happening now.

"Don't forget to tell them I love them, and I"m sorry. I am so fucking sorry." One step forward, I edge my way to him. This boy and I were only trying to get home. We are one of the same, but he gets to go home first. He will be able to go home and rest forever. No more will he be subjected to pain or feelings of being outcasted. Did I do him a favor?

"I won't forget." I allow my voice to saunter out as I appear three steps forward even more until I am literally standing above him and to my knees I fall to his side. "Please don't be sorry. You did nothing wrong."

Those tears that had started to stain my face is now washing the war paint off. He becomes still and my hand goes to the one spot where the blood is more profuse. The back of his head is what is coloring his background. It's frightening to see that much blood. Did I really do that?

"Jackson, you will be alright." I try to coax him, but he's not saying anything else. Does he hate me already for doing this to him? He did swing first. He did start this, right?

Right?

"What's the penny about?" I try to find out. "I need more to tell your family than just 'I love you...' what else do you want them to know?" I question him and place my hand on his head, trying to put a stopper to the flow of blood although with as many places he's been injured, I can't possibly keep him alive. It's no use, but I have to show him I'm trying.

Last Edit: Nov 4, 2016 21:13:56 GMT -5 by *

uwu
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Behind Blue Eyes, Everything Matters (Jackson Samuels DP) Nov 4, 2016 21:22:03 GMT -5

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Post by uwu on Nov 4, 2016 21:22:03 GMT -5

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It's hard for me to do anything anymore, but I know that I'm not completely out yet. I can't seem to move, but I still have all my other senses. Except for the ability to feel anything, because when I hit the ground, nothing really seemed to hurt. I just feel onto the ground. I also don't know if I'm still crying or not. Please leave me with some dignity. Doesn't really matter now, does it? Everyone has already see me cry. What point does it make if I'm sill crying? I hear something drop where she stood followed by small sets of footsteps, and I wish I could look up to see what she was doing. Dear Ripred, please let me just die in peace. Please don't let her do anything to me. I deserve this slow process of dying. I deserve to think about the monster I've become. Unless she's coming to add more pain. If so, please let her do so. I deserve it.

"I won't forget." Those words bring a smile to my face, or what I remember what a smile feels like. So she's not here to hurt me. The weight in my chest becomes even heavier. "Thank you." It took much of my energy to have to say those two sentences. I couch once more, and I assume that blood came out like the last two times. I really hope I didn't get it on her. Not like it would matter. It's still rude to bleed on someone, especially when you try and fail to kill them.

"Please don't be sorry. You did nothing wrong." I start laughing, which soon becomes into more coughing with blood. "Nothing wrong?" I tighten my lips as best I can. I close my eyes and focus everything I had to speaking. "I tried to kill you. How is that not wrong? I attacked you with out any cause, except for one, which was a wrong cause." I stop to take a breath and spit out more blood. "I had no right to attack you."

As I finish talking, I attempt to open my eyes again, but they wouldn't listen to me. Shit. OPEN. PLEASE. GODDAMMIT, PLEASE OPEN. Luckily I can still tell whether or not light is hiring my eyelids, because it managed to get a darker shade of black. Am... am I officially dead now? "Jackson, you will be alright." If I could do, I'd do anything to show her that I'm not alright. Isn't it obvious enough? I'm not okay. I'm dying. I don't want to say anything, because I don't think it would be appropriate. I figure that she already knows. She's just being kind. Let her be kind.

"What's the penny about?" The penny! Where is it? I can't feel it anywhere. Nonononononono. Where is it? I really wish I could move and look for it. "I need more to tell your family than just 'I love you...' what else do you want them to know?" Of course she does. Might as well tell her. She has a point. "The penny..." I feel drowsy. No. Stay awake. Finish the thought. "My best friend... he... gave it... to me...the day... reaping day. Supposed to be... good luck." And look at where I ended up. Don't blame the penny. It wasn't its fault. You're the one who fucked up, the one who died. "If you can... please... put it back into my pocket." I know my time is coming to an end after within seconds onceI finished talking. I keep pushing myself to stay alive so I can say one final thing. "Deja, I'm sorry I was like this. You deserved to live. Good luck, and goodbye." I know my time is up. I can't move, I can't feel, and I can't see. It's time to go. This is how the story of Jackson Samuels ends. Goodbye world.

Last Edit: Nov 8, 2016 9:32:44 GMT -5 by uwu

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Behind Blue Eyes, Everything Matters (Jackson Samuels DP) Nov 5, 2016 9:38:43 GMT -5

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Post by * on Nov 5, 2016 9:38:43 GMT -5

Deja Hatcher
Thirteen | Female | District 3

Falsely, I tell him he'll be alright. I've never seen death. I've never held a life in my hands neither. Everything happening in my life is some form of test; a challenge to my character. I hate what I've done, but somewhere in district three, Camille and Quincey were watching me. They were vying for my will to live and silently praying that I keep going further.

My character has been changed.

Jackson has done that. However, right now, it is all that I"m trying to do to change my character back to what it used to be when I was pure. His blood coats my fingers as I try to keep his head from bleeding. His eyes looking up at me - staring - as if he was trying to stay alive for as long as possible. His pupils start to dialate. The gloss over his iris's is becoming dull. Can he tell that, too?

"The penny. My best friend... he gave it to me... reaping day." I bite hard into my bottom lip and close my eyes. Tears collect in the corners of my eyes and then down my cheeks flushing away more of the blood I had painted my skin with. This time, I do not wipe them away. I let them fall onto his skin. They in turn wash away the blood on his face.

"If you can... please... put it back into my pocket." He requests. My eyes go searching his fingers for the penny but it's no where to be seen. It's not directly right beside him causing me to be alarmed for unknown reasons. Feverishly, I look in the direct vicinity of where his body is lying and a few feet away, its staring up at the sky, tails up.

"I'll get it." I mutter, and painfully move to retreive the small coin. I scoot back over to him, settling against him. I show him the penny so that he may know I'm keeping my end of the bargain and so he'll trust me to do what's right. I hold it tight in my hand for one moment before I kiss the penny and then place it in his pocket. "It's in there, Jackson. You're lucky penny is there. It's safe. Please..."

I look him over for a moment more before I draw his head into my lap. My hand still holding onto the gash on his head that was bleeding profusely. Even though he grew quiet, I keep my spot.

Waiting.

"Jackson, you'll be okay now." I pitifully cry out and drop my head below my shoulders and my chest heaves with painful sobs. I can no longer feel my leg as the pins and needles have taken over, but I do not want to move him. If I do, then he'll wake up. He's sleeping peacefully now. "Jackson of district six, please sleep well. I'm sorry it had to end this way."

I refuse to move his head from my lap. Not even when the sun began to rise, however I finally had to let him go. I moved him gently, and placed my hand on his forehead. "I'll hold your name forever in my heart."

Last Edit: Nov 12, 2016 16:31:12 GMT -5 by *