forever in the dark {weaver's end}

A river of crimson splattered against the cave floor making it impossible to keep his footing. His body was weak, yet his mind begged him to move, begged him to keep going because death was beckoning for him to follow, and Weaver wasn't ready to go. A mysterious laughter mixed with the howling winds filling his ears as invisible skeletal hands clawed at his chest trying to tear him away from the reality holding him up. Crusader's face glistened in the corners of the cavern, and his voice grew louder as the crooked finger of the grim reaper motions grew stronger. His brother's whispers comforted the eighteen year old, and it took all Weaver had to turn away. He wasn't ready to meet his brother in the sky as there was still so much he wanted to do and see, however, Weaver knew he was doomed the moment his name was called.

Travers' taunting words flew through the air, yet Weaver's eyes never left the eyes of the girl lying on the ground with an arrow sticking out of her neck - he wanted to save her, but he knew it was too late, and nobody cared. His entire world fell apart in front of their very eyes. His knees buckled unsteadily under the weight of his fragile body, and the axe slid from his grasp spiraling towards the floor of the cave, yet the crash disappeared in the midst of the wind.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize he was out numbered, and the only tributes who had any chance to help him only cared for themselves. None of them cared his brother was watching the games from the Capitol. None of them cared he had family sitting at home begging for his survival. None of them cared that he didn't want to die, that he wanted to live another day, but wasn't that way everyone wanted? To survive? To make it out of this hell alive? It was his one desire to live another day, yet as he looked around he saw their facial expressions, and he knew he wasn't going to survive. His fight was coming to an end, and just like Crusader, Weaver Rhodes would never see the light of day again. It was a reality he accepted days before, but was anyone truly ready to die? He wasn't. Renee wasn't. Percy wasn't. Iona wasn't.

An exasperated sigh left his chest as his eyes locked on the features of the kid from two. Such a young, powerful, brave tribute. But bravery never saved anyone. He saw it before. Many times. Perhaps in district eleven the two would've been friends, yet Weaver shook his head softly. Travers wasn't brave. No. Just a coward hiding in the make believe.

"Kill me. My family is waiting to greet me with arms wide open while you remain nothing more than a despicable coward." His voice was calm, and his demeanor was clear of emotions, yet his heart was pounding rapidly against the inside of his chest wall trying to escape the cage holding it together.

Crusader stood beside him, and his parents stood behind them, and Weaver wanted nothing more than to reach around and embrace them in a warm, desperate hug, but he knew it was his mind playing tricks because they were dead, and at this moment Weaver wasn't.

"So go ahead and try to bring my down with your words all you want because you've made me the happiest man in the world, and that is all I can ask for." The corners of his lips twisted into a genuine smile as the faces of his family became more visible. Crusader was ready to carry the weight with him, and his parents were there guiding him. "I've got my prize. I get to see my family, and their smiling faces again while you are stuck roaming in hell." Weaver wasn't sure what he was doing, or who he was talking to among the group standing around, yet his words were more directed to Travers. He wanted to feel the rush of blood surging through his body as his muscles tensed, and he wanted to feel the heat radiating from his cheeks, but he wasn't angry - he was happy. Pivoting around on, he saw the dark eyes of his parents lighting the way; it took every ounce of strength he had to not run towards the imaginary arms. "So good luck, and enjoy your pleasure because you and your friends have given me a new life."

Every last word hung in the air, and Weaver turned trying to avoid anymore blows. All he wanted was to lift his district partner into the air and escape the madness lingering around -

An inaudible gasp fell from his lips as the blade of a knife pierced through the fabric and into his body. Blood leaked around the side, and his body folded in on itself. His hands reached for the blade as the girl he never knew pulled the blade away. Blood spurted between his fingers spraying the cave walls. Silent screams bellowed past his clenched teeth as he collapsed onto the cave floor next to his dying district partner. His eyes locked with five's for a moment as everyone started running away from the fight. She jerked the knife free, and he felt himself growing weaker with each passing second. A single tear slid down the side of his face -

"Thank you."

His words were quiet, and he wasn't sure if she heard him. The handle of the blade knocked the xiphoid process from his chest lacerating his liver. A steady stream of crimson flowed into his mouth, and he fought to hide it. Weaver's gaze turned in every direction begging for someone to stay at his side because he was alone.

Iona.

I have to find Kizzy and Bailey. They have to be alive. Please let them be alive. Many thoughts buzzed through his mind as he crawled across the wet, slippery surface until his arms was next to Iona.

His thirteen year old self watched as Crusader lifted the limp Esme Truus from the ground after she fell in the feast, and his eighteen year old self tried to replicate his brother's actions.

After careful placement, he forced himself into a standing position as the weight of the world crashed around him. Liquid fire shot through his body as a coughing fit racked his lungs. "Let me help you, brother." Crusader's words buzzed through his ears, and the weight lifted into the air like it was nothing, yet hideous amounts of blood leaked from the corner of his mouth while a river flowed heavily from the wound buried deep inside his chest. "Come on, Weaver, we got this." The words motivated him to keep moving. To never give up. Weaver refused to die without knowing the fate of the duo from ten.

"Hang on, Iona. We'll find them." His words were nothing more of a whisper. He tried to move on because he had to know if Kizzy and Bailey were alive, but the weight became to much, and his body gave.


Weaver crashed against the rocks, and he tried to use his body as a shield to keep Iona from being damaged anymore, but he knew she was too far gone to save. He knew Iona's fight was over and neither would see the light of day -

A shattered heart fell against the rocks with a deafening thud as his body made contact with the ground. Blood spewed heavily from the gaping hole hidden beneath his clothes. Silent sobs fell from his lips as he begged Harbinger to save him, to send him a miracle from the Capitol to prevent him from dying. Yet death stood right in front of him waiting to snatch his soul away. Not until I see Bailey and Kizzy.

He tried to lift his district partner from the ground, but he couldn't stand on his own two feet, and he knew it was almost over. Nails dug into the ground as he forced himself just a few inches forward;

"Iona, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. Please forgive me."

Crocodile tears fell from his eyes, and loud sobs echoed through the cavern as he begged Iona to stay alive. "I tried. I tried, Iona. But I wasn't good enough. I wasn't fast enough. I wasn't strong enough."His sobs became louder, yet the winds carried his voice away. "Just hang in there, Iona. We'll find them. Bailey and Kizzy. Just hang in there. I promise." His voice cracked, and his heart cracked the inside of his ribs. Despite the heat warming the arena, Weaver's arms shivered, lips quivered, and his disgusting yellow teeth chattered together. Every hair stood on end followed by the rapid forming goose pimples. "Hang...on... Iona...Please." Please. He wasn't even sure if she heard him anymore. Silence devoured him.

Soon it was broken by the sound of frantic footsteps bounding across the cavern floor. Sorrow filled eyes bounced from corner to corner until he saw the lone figure of Bailey forming in the distance -

No.

Bailey was alone, and it meant one of the cannons belonged to Kizzy.

I failed.

A gut wrenching sob erupt past his lips echoed from the walls above the tune of the howling winds, and Weaver folded in on himself once more before rolling away from Iona, yet he listened to every word Bailey said. Her pleas filled his ears, and his heart broke over and over. The skeletal fingers dug into his chest pulling his heart from the veins and arteries attaching it inside his body. A crimson waterfall rolled down his face. I'm sorry, Kizzy. Please forgive me.

A swarm of bees buzzed through his ears as his almost lifeless eyes stared passed the ceiling focusing on the heavens above. Stars burned brighter, and it was almost like he had been placed back in district eleven with his brothers sitting beside him singing songs while Elidor stirred a fire. Yet the sound of the cannon drew him back to reality.

Iona Holbrook was dead.

Kizzy Turren was dead.

Weaver Rhodes was dying.

Hideous amounts of blood spurted from his mouth leaking down the side of his face staining the scruffy beard he worked so hard to grow. His eyes were wide waiting for the grim reaper to take him home because he had nothing to live for, yet when Bailey hovered next to him, Weaver felt at ease. His heart slowed down, and his mind stopped moving as he took in his ally from ten. Her hands worked full speed ahead trying to mend the hole cutting deep inside his body, but he knew nothing would fix him. He was too far gone.

"Bai...ley."

Her head collapsed on his chest, and Weaver felt her sobs raging through her body, and he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and tell her it was alright, but in all reality he knew it wasn't because his cannon was getting ready to sound. Yet his arms refused to move no matter how hard he fought with the nerves - the signal just wasn't there.

"You aren't allowed to leave me damn it. You can't leave me like they did. Don't give me another reason to hate myself. Don't join Esme yet, please stay with this Truus a little while longer... Weaver..."

Tears rolled down the side of his face as his body grew colder. Icy chills crawled up his body devouring his hands and feet leaving them lifeless and numb as the snake slithered further trying to devour his body before he was ready to go.

Bailey stomped away, and Weaver tried to call for her to return because he didn't want to die alone. He needed her by his side to guide him through the unknown process of pain and suffering. Death was a reality nobody should face until they're into their eighties and nineties, yet every single year children his age and younger were forced to fight to the death. "Bai...ley...plea...se..." But his words were cut short as she returned to his side holding a silver parachute in her hand. Something was inside, and Weaver hoped Harbinger was able to save -

"Listen Weaver, before you go I have something I need to read you..." -

A broken heart plummeted into the pits of his stomach. Acid devoured the strong muscle, and Weaver wanted to scream, yet he couldn't force the sounds past his lips. It hurt. Every single part of his body ached, but nothing made it better, and it never would.

He was too far gone to save, but maybe this was proof they truly cared.

His eyes slowly fluttered shut as she read the words etched into the tiny sheet of paper. Words of love, that his family cared for him, and that he had too soft of a heart to participate in such a cruel environment. He was an uncle to a niece he would never see. A gut wrenching sob bellowed from somewhere deep inside echoing off the walls before being lost in the sound of the roaring winds. Every single word meant the world to him, but even that wasn't enough to save him.

Weaver's lips quivered as tears rapidly fell from his eyes. Was this what his life was for? Disappointment? Agony? Pain? Misery? He failed his family. He failed his friends. He failed the Truus family. From the very beginning he tried his hardest, but it wasn't good enough.

A wonderful heart ceased, and a cannon sound. This life was over, but his second life, a journey with Crusader and their parents, had only begun.