Shell Shock {RF - Day 6}

His mind kept telling him he looked like a bleeding paint horse because of the black patches from the soot. What would I d', if I saw one of the paint horses lyin' on the ground bleedin'? He would try to help it, of course. But in the state he was in and because of his only supplies, he couldn't help himself.

Pulling himself agonizingly up onto the shore, the soft sand made it more difficult for him to stand upright. But he had to keep moving -- he had to at least find some sort of shade.

Trudging along, the boy's vision was beginning to fail him. It was becoming increasingly difficult to see because his good eye had become swollen, and the fact that his legs were trembling wasn't helping at all. To top the pain that was burning his body, an intense hunger gnawed at his stomach. Semper felt horribly sick as a result of that emptiness. Reaching the top of a sand dune, the boy couldn't stand any longer. His legs gave out and he tumbled down the soft dune, sliding to a stop and everything became a shade darker.

Semper laid there for a minute, confused, before deciding to look up. Tree branches were waving above him, blocking the sun somewhat from reaching him. It was a blessing within itself, giving him a tremendous sense of relief to be out of the relentless heat. He laid his head back down, the events of the day before replaying in his head.

He had killed Sami Hawkings.

And he felt overwhelmingly guilty about it.

He turned over onto his back, watching the branches sway gently back and forth. Sami would never get to feel a soft breeze again; never see the sun set over a misty valley; never get to do anything that she loved to do back in her District. It was a tragedy, really, and he had caused it. There would be a family back in District 10 that would be in mourning tonight -- all because of him. They may even bribe someone to kill him, but he quickly shoved that thought out of his mind.

"I'm so sorry......... so, so sorry....."

The boy muttered breathlessly, though he was sincere about it. He hadn't wanted to kill her, but now his hands were forever stained with her blood. Hands. Semper held up his hands, examining them. His right hand held the arrow wound he had received in an earlier fight, and though it had gone numb, it was still of no use. He could hardly grasp a knife handle with his fingers, and whenever he constantly moved his fingers the wound would feel like it was tearing open again. 'It'd jus' b' better if I lost this hand 'cause it ain't doin' m' any good....' He thought, propping himself up to a sitting position. The pit in his stomach gnawed at him with such an intensity that he winced.

"I can't take this...... I jus' can't...."

With his good hand he reached into his pocket, pulling out one of his clean knives. He knew he wouldn't be able to last much longer without food, and since his right hand was pretty much no longer of use.....

Pulling a cantaloupe sized, somewhat flat rock, he placed his hand on it, setting the blade atop his wrist. I must be crazy.... His heart was pounding.

"Am I really goin' t' d' this...?"

Either that or starve to death. Semper took a deep breath, his hand trembling as he pressed the knife harder into the skin of the top of his wrist. The boy closed his eyes tightly and looked away, his body tensing as he quickly pressed the knife down hard and sliced it through his wrist.

At first, he felt nothing. But no more than a few seconds passed until an indescribable feeling of anguish tore through his veins unlike anything he had ever felt before. He winced, dropping the bloody knife and grasping his forearm with his only hand left, holding onto it as tightly as he could, unable to hold back a loud exclamation. Warm crimson blood was already running down his forearm, staining the ground below him. He had to stop the blood flow, or at least try to. Grinding his teeth, he shakily reached out for his knife, cutting off a strip of his shirt and tying it off with the assistance of his teeth. Finding a small, long rock, he put it under the cloth and put that around his arm, beginning to twist it continuously until the rock wouldn't turn anymore.

Growling and uttering curses, Semper turned the rock so that it was snuggly underneath the cloth. He hoped it would stay, but he wasn't too keen on making the rock more secure with his hand trembling so much.

Looking down at the rock, there was his severed hand lying motionless. 'I'm goin' t' eat that...?' He thought, repulsed at the thought of eating his own hand. The boy doubled over onto his knees and elbows, a sensation arising in his throat to where he felt as though he were going to vomit, but he had nothing in his stomach to bring back up. All he could do was dry heave, which by itself felt almost -- but not nearly as bad -- as cutting off his hand.

Remaining in that position for a few minutes, his forehead on the ground, he calmed his stomach down, hesitantly looking back up at his hand on the rock. He couldn't eat it just now, not while in so much pain; so he slumped to the ground, lying on his side, his entire body visibly vibrating as he tried to compose himself.

It felt like hours had passed when his right forearm had gone numb, bringing him back to reality. There were flies swarming around his wrist stump and the severed hand on the rock, though the sight no longer grossed him out. Propping himself up to sit, he picked up his other hand, examining it. His mind was in shock, trying to protect his sanity from the damage cutting off his own hand would do to him. He turned the hand over to look at the flesh of the severed part, noticing the bones. It was an odd, yet fascinating sight to see, his half-blind gaze locked onto it. Was it really such a taboo to eat one's own hand? In a life or death situation, he figured that anything goes. So why was this so awkward for him? No, it isn't awkward at all. If you eat it, it just might save your life. With dull eyes he looked over the hand once more before raising it to his mouth, not even bothering to sniff it before he took a bite from the detached wrist. Once his teeth had punctured the skin, the flesh was surprisingly soft, despite the bones in it -- he would get to the bones later. Tearing off the flesh, he chewed it, contemplating what it tasted like. Not cow, not chicken, not goat.... it was of unknown flavor; however, it tasted surprisingly good. After swallowing, he paused a moment before taking another bite, starting to savor the taste of fresh meat. The blood that had been left inside the veins was still warm, somewhat soothing his parched throat, but certainly not quenching his burning thirst. The flesh, however, was stopping the gnawing pain in his stomach. Semper couldn't help but give a somewhat grim smile as he tried biting off the flesh that was still on the bones, having eaten most of the meat. When he had finished getting what he could, he set the pile of bones on the bloody rock and set aside the inedible parts of skin and nails on the ground. Taking the knife, he began to cut each of the bones in half, though it did take quite some time. His face was expressionless once he finished, picking up the bone halves and sucking the marrow out of it. The marrow had a rustic taste to it, but it didn't bother him -- it tasted quite fine.

Upon finishing up with the bones, he leaned back against a tree, licking the blood from his lips. Semper never thought that he wouldn't mind eating human flesh and blood, let alone his own flesh and blood. Why was it considered taboo? He didn't know why other people didn't turn cannibalistic.... human flesh tasted almost better than beef, if his opinion. I liked it. Feeling satisfied, he rested his head back against the tree trunk, closing his eyes. He didn't care about his wrist stub anymore. He had had food, and all he needed now was water.

[Semper ate his hand]