acropolis | {nyte/dars}

"this soul of mine
will never break
as long as I wake up today
you can't take my youth away"

It's unreal. Feverish fantasy slipping from in between my fingers like the mint-colored silk wrapped around my waist and we have been crowned court jesters. Entertainers and fools, trapped by the delusions of grandeur; fattened with expensive wines and savory meats. We really think we can do this, don't we? Children from the lower the districts stuff their face with pastries and careers focus on feebly clinging to the frayed strings of their training. Willfully ignorant to the reality weighing down upon their shoulders, shattering bone as stubborn heels dig themselves into the dirt, sinking slowly into their graves.

Fates entwined, forgotten within the calloused palms of Lady Luck and no amount of training will keep desperation from slitting your throat when the night is heaviest. Adrenaline heavy footsteps echo through the heart of the arena and there is nothing to be done besides watch a sword run you through. I've hit rock bottom, hard and fast, I've crashed upon the surface - shattered completely and absolutely. There is something humbling about the company it brings. No point looking down the bridge of your nose now, it'll simply leave you blinded.

I wish I felt something, like the rest of them. I wish I were frightened. I wish I were excited. I wish there was something more to do than look out of the first floor's window with clouded eyes and crossed legs, staring at the reflection rather than the monotony of luxury outside of it. A barrier, between me and between freedom. Eve, with shackles around her ankles and a collar made from barbed wire. Blood of the forbidden fruit crawls onto the back of my tongue, runs hot down my throat and yet-

I starve.

Somehow that's ok.

Pour a glass of wine, act as though you're above it all. Spite takes on her voice. My grandmother with her bony fingers wrapped around my throat and the gaze of a dead woman boils me from the inside out. I can feel blisters oozing, rotting 'neath the spotlights. There's a tremor in my next breath, eyes closed to keep the seams from bursting open and I mustn't realize. The darkness creeping, consuming, and it would all become real had I the courage to let it come.

Instead, I do just as she says. I always have. Lips stain crystal glass crimson and the silence is deafening. I'm caged, tied, bound, and I need to get out of here. Before I cannot help but remember who I am or what I'll inevitably become. Holding onto feigned sanity, convincing myself that monsters born can then be slain.

You've killed before, sweet girl.

I know I have.

A shawl, two shades darker than my robe. Bare feet and a ribbon haphazardly tied around the hair they had so carefully styled. There is rebellion in its imperfection. Consumed by a beast, sat in his belly and he bends to my will at the simple press of a button. 13. Deeper into the maze, fingers wrapped around freedom and yet I cannot

bite.

Wind whips hair against my cheeks and I take comfort in the way it stings. Deep breaths and soft sighs, palms against pavement and it is industry without the bells and whistles. We needn't dress demons as angels anymore.

Solitude is shattered by footsteps and I'm not ready to face them. I've met only my district partner so far- filled to the brim with fire and acting like we all can't see the steam pouring out of his ears. Instead I seek solace in the shadows- watching and waiting. "If you're hiding because you think I'm someone important or dangerous, feel free to come out,"

The boy from Seven. Soft as a mouse with dew stuck to his whiskers, defeat dampens his pelt and its stench is that of blood. "I am neither."

Of course he isn't. None of us are.

We are weakness painted with different shades of delusion. So I stand in front of him, stained purple. "Is that whiskey?" I sit, yearning to dangle my feet over the building's edge. The cage lingers here, hidden from view. "Call me Bella, Neither." Laughter blossoms off of upturned lips and I cannot help but fear that this will be my last. "I hope you'll be kind enough to share."