put a bullet in my buttcheek {SS vs CR, Day 2}

T E D D Y .

The cannons sends his head spinning.

The first comes before anyone in their vicinity even falls. The loud boom that sounds across the arena sends his eyes to Raquel, who was still standing. Gold kissing her body with blood and pain that he's caused. Wounds cut too deep into the flesh that sends him into a panic after he realizes that another canon sounds for Rhetoric's fall. Hands shake as he knows he's failed his allies already. Chester didn't die, but they had still lost someone. They still had been too weak to save Rhetoric from death's cold kiss. He's seen death before, but never as bloody or as awful to watch as the deaths before.

He's heard the last wishes of the dying. He's heard the wishes of the sick fighting to get better. He's never had a wish himself, until now. All he wanted to do was try and save them all from death's cold kiss. It's a learning process of what he can and can't do, but he didn't fail Chester. That's what seemed to be ringing in his head as he watches Rhetoric's inevitable fall. The end of District Eight altogether for the rest of this games. There was no Shelby Leviane to watch over them anymore.

There's the feeling of wanting to release everything from his stomach again as he can see the wounds that lays upon the skin of Raquel Izar. It doesn't take much for him to feel like his words weren't true anymore. He wasn't violent. He hadn't been violent ever, but with the wounds he's inflicted that almost killed Raquel Izar, he's beginning to believe he's actually much more violent than before. Teddy can feel his hands shake with every movement that each person did.

Emberly is the first to leave them at the place of death. Black sand bleeds red with the blood of four people mixing with it. Feet are still planted in the sand and it's warm heat that comes from it. Ma would hate the sight of him. She would have cried for the blood that he's spilled upon the beach. She would have cried for how close he's come to killing another person. He meant to kill her if it meant saving Chester from death. Heart beats as his hands shake with the fear in his chest. He wants to break down crying, but enough tears have been spent from his eyes for the past few years that he can't let himself break.

Hospital beds emptied of bodies that death had created. He's spent countless nights cleaning his hands clean after touching the items of the dead. Pillows, sheets, and trays of food that the dead had once touched that became an echo of their time spent in the hospitals of District Six. He can remember washing for hours on ends trying to scrub the feeling of death off of them, but it never leaves the skin. It doesn't leave the skin like the words his mother spoke to him doesn't leave his mind.

Waste of space.

A waste of space who almost killed someone like Raquel Izar.

Chester leaves next with the name of the dead upon his lips.

"Dammit, Rhetoric."

Rhetoric was dead. She couldn't hear him in death and he couldn't speak to the dead. Everything seems to whirl past him as Raquel and Ree leave him with Rhetoric's killer and the body of the dead. It's silent for a moment as he lets his guard down for the first time since they had run into Clementina and the rest of them. He only stares at Rhetoric for a moment, until he moves to look at Clementina. He's at a loss for words, especially since Clementina had been the cause of the final blow. He wasn't afraid that she would attack him, death had already taken enough individuals that day.

He brushes his hand into his hair as he softly speaks to her.

"You would think after being around death so much, it wouldn't make me feel uneasy."

Still he's shaking from the adrenaline of the fight and the fear of almost killing Raquel to save them from the suffering. He can still see Clementina with wounds that still bleed slightly and hair that reminds him of the day he found Basil and Clementina in that room. Lips tense into a slight frown as he twiddles his fingers against one another. Words seemed to be coming from his throat, but he's tired of feeling like he had to speak.

"Make sure to get that bullet out of your body. It'll get infected if you don't."

He's biting his tongue from saying anything that could get him killed by the sword she carries. The spear in his hands seemed to be doing wonders, but he didn't think he could keep it up long. All he could do was hope that the day of his death doesn't come sooner rather than later. As he stares up at the District Seven female whose beauty is as clear as day, even with blood and wounds upon her skin, all he can do is speak up from the heart.

"I hope Basil's still alive."

His gut was flipping at the thought. Basil Isley was his only piece of home in the arena that made him feel not as lonely. He's watching her barely, but he speaks calmly to her once more with truth upon his tongue. Hand runs through his sweat streaked forehead and the hair that's soaked up some of it. A frown upon his lips, but his last words before he leaves Rhetoric and Clementina alone.

"Good Luck, Clem. Hope we don't see each other again."

Feet take him away from the place of blood and death that touches his nose. He runs from the fears that lay upon his shoulder and the violence that makes him cower from what he used to be. He runs from the words of his real mother and begs to live another day in his head. Everyone had a time and it felt like his was slowly running out with every step he takes.

There'd be no sweet dreams.

Only nightmares of what more he could have done for Rhetoric Anadiplosis.