and i will hold you {tight} .| lowes
Jun 29, 2017 16:41:02 GMT -5
Post by я𝑜𝓈𝑒 on Jun 29, 2017 16:41:02 GMT -5
[presto]
[/presto]The time comes to say goodbye — but I'm not ready. I am not ready, will never be ready, to be ripped away from everything I ever loved, to be ripped to pieces in a children's graveyard, to become torn and tattered until there is nothing left of who I am. A voice in the back of my head reminds me that I must kill to survive if I want to live.
And I want to live — I want to come home and breathe in the fresh summer air in the fields, tinged with lemongrass and wildflowers. I want to come home and wrap my arms around my dog and my horse and feel the softness of their fur against my skin; I want to come home to my sisters, to my parents and to my cousins. Leaving them behind — leaving everything behind — is an impossible option, and yet so is surviving the Hunger Games.
Perhaps I will be trapped between impossibilities forever, waste away in the divide between my wishes and reality.
I love them — my parents, Ment, Kiara, Saffron, Paige — but is it that love that will someday drive me to kill? Could I take someone else's life if it meant I would see them again, if it meant that they would not have to suffer yet another loss?
But that is the price all Victors pay for their lives; even Saffron.
It would be a heavy toll to pay so that I could hold Kiara in my arms again, ride into the hills with Gin until my ears ache from the roar of the wind, braid daisies into Ment's hair in the field outside our house, tell Saffron and Paige stories about the ranch.
I close my eyes in the darkness of the Justice Building; But it would be worth the cost, wouldn't it?
I open my eyes and my answer stands before me — Kiara, Clementa, Saffron, and Paige. They have come to say goodbye — because all of them, save Saffron, will likely never see me again. I clench my fists my side; The final farewell is only at my funeral, I tell myself, not here. This isn't the end. (Not yet.)
Because if I believed that, I'd go mad.
Kiara and Ment still have their flowers in their hair; the sight of them brings tears to my eyes because I know that those moments with them were only fleeting. They always were, and I just never knew it before my sister died, never wanted to consider even for a moment that they would not last forever. All of those memories with them in the fields — and with Myara, too — are not immortal, just as we are not immortal.
With every moment that passes, they are slipping through my fingers like fine grains of sand and there is nothing in this whole wide world that can stop it. And someday, when I am long dead and they are old and silver-haired, their memories of me may fade until there are only pieces, like my life to them is only a broken string of film. Pieces — is that what I am meant to be, what I am to become?
I look at Kiara again and her wide tearful eyes break my heart all over again. It had been cracked in two before, but now I feel it shatter and explode into a thousand pieces within the hollow of my chest. She's only ten years old — and she's going to lose a second sister.
And Ment — we are two halves of one whole. From the beginning, it has always been the two of us; she is the fire and I am the light. I have always believed that we are nothing without each other but now — but now we will both have to get on without our twin. Ment won't be coming with me into the Arena, and I'm —
I don't know what's going to happen to me.
Saffron and Paige; the pieces of my family I never knew were missing. And now — and now they will be lost again; I will be lost to them. Just like that, our newfound joy and sense of family will be shattered. I never thought the love between bloodlines would be so easy to break.
Each of the people I love so much stand before me in the Justice Building, and although our time is limited and there are so many things I need to say, I find myself speechless. I stare at them, my mouth beginning to form words that do not come.
Kiara begins to cry again; tears pool along the brims of her eyes and I know that they are about to fall, and yet when they do, there was no way I could be prepared for it. She tries to wipe them away with the back of her tiny hand, but they fall still, thick raindrops all down her cheeks. I want to apologize but there is nothing to apologize for — I am not the one who chose my name to be called.
And the words find me — they erupt, from my lungs to my throat to my mouth and into the hot summer air.
"I wish that someone could pinch me and I would wake up from a bad dream," I say, soreness from holding back tears building up in my throat. "But this is real and — and I don't want to lose this. I don't want to lose everything I love."
And I want to live — I want to come home and breathe in the fresh summer air in the fields, tinged with lemongrass and wildflowers. I want to come home and wrap my arms around my dog and my horse and feel the softness of their fur against my skin; I want to come home to my sisters, to my parents and to my cousins. Leaving them behind — leaving everything behind — is an impossible option, and yet so is surviving the Hunger Games.
Perhaps I will be trapped between impossibilities forever, waste away in the divide between my wishes and reality.
I love them — my parents, Ment, Kiara, Saffron, Paige — but is it that love that will someday drive me to kill? Could I take someone else's life if it meant I would see them again, if it meant that they would not have to suffer yet another loss?
But that is the price all Victors pay for their lives; even Saffron.
It would be a heavy toll to pay so that I could hold Kiara in my arms again, ride into the hills with Gin until my ears ache from the roar of the wind, braid daisies into Ment's hair in the field outside our house, tell Saffron and Paige stories about the ranch.
I close my eyes in the darkness of the Justice Building; But it would be worth the cost, wouldn't it?
I open my eyes and my answer stands before me — Kiara, Clementa, Saffron, and Paige. They have come to say goodbye — because all of them, save Saffron, will likely never see me again. I clench my fists my side; The final farewell is only at my funeral, I tell myself, not here. This isn't the end. (Not yet.)
Because if I believed that, I'd go mad.
Kiara and Ment still have their flowers in their hair; the sight of them brings tears to my eyes because I know that those moments with them were only fleeting. They always were, and I just never knew it before my sister died, never wanted to consider even for a moment that they would not last forever. All of those memories with them in the fields — and with Myara, too — are not immortal, just as we are not immortal.
With every moment that passes, they are slipping through my fingers like fine grains of sand and there is nothing in this whole wide world that can stop it. And someday, when I am long dead and they are old and silver-haired, their memories of me may fade until there are only pieces, like my life to them is only a broken string of film. Pieces — is that what I am meant to be, what I am to become?
I look at Kiara again and her wide tearful eyes break my heart all over again. It had been cracked in two before, but now I feel it shatter and explode into a thousand pieces within the hollow of my chest. She's only ten years old — and she's going to lose a second sister.
And Ment — we are two halves of one whole. From the beginning, it has always been the two of us; she is the fire and I am the light. I have always believed that we are nothing without each other but now — but now we will both have to get on without our twin. Ment won't be coming with me into the Arena, and I'm —
I don't know what's going to happen to me.
Saffron and Paige; the pieces of my family I never knew were missing. And now — and now they will be lost again; I will be lost to them. Just like that, our newfound joy and sense of family will be shattered. I never thought the love between bloodlines would be so easy to break.
Each of the people I love so much stand before me in the Justice Building, and although our time is limited and there are so many things I need to say, I find myself speechless. I stare at them, my mouth beginning to form words that do not come.
Kiara begins to cry again; tears pool along the brims of her eyes and I know that they are about to fall, and yet when they do, there was no way I could be prepared for it. She tries to wipe them away with the back of her tiny hand, but they fall still, thick raindrops all down her cheeks. I want to apologize but there is nothing to apologize for — I am not the one who chose my name to be called.
And the words find me — they erupt, from my lungs to my throat to my mouth and into the hot summer air.
"I wish that someone could pinch me and I would wake up from a bad dream," I say, soreness from holding back tears building up in my throat. "But this is real and — and I don't want to lose this. I don't want to lose everything I love."
