eyes & ears [little bill day 4]

He waits for a splash that never comes.

He waits for a cloud that never comes.

He waits for a death that never comes.

He pulls the needle out of his thumb and pushes it back in, over and over in fresh unpierced flesh, over and over until his skin tingles too much to feel it, and he wishes the rest of his body felt half as numb. Pain roars from his leg, from the nape of his neck, but they refuse to take him too fast; he knows his morbidity amuses them, his dread brings them joy, or they wouldn’t keep sending him mutts, those fucking gamemakers, he knows it’s to drive him wild, knows they’re toying with his humanity like a game of jacks, he knows. He rolls onto one side, and rolls to the other. Third time’s the charm.

He rolls once more and his eye rests inches from colorful twine woven into the roots. Warmth rushes in where the venom sits still and heavy. Carefully he reaches out and unravels the twine from the bridge. Sitting up, he grabs Absalom’s bracelet from his rucksack and holds them side by side in his palm.

The next few hours are spent with his camo makeup kits spread out, their palettes mixed on leaves to lighten colors, to alter hues, and he dyes the twine to match the original. He doesn’t notice the antivenom drop from the sky and land gracefully beside him, doesn’t notice the medkit that follows. He sees the bracelets and nothing else. Sweat drips from his face into the makeup, and he wipes it away only to smear it across his skin. Smiling through dried tears, he remembers what Abs told him that first night in the capitol, before the gamemakers reveled in his misery for days on end, before the chiseled boy gave him this bracelet and gave him hope. “It might be silly, but I think if you can imagine a happy ending then maybe you can make one yourself.” Little Bill ties the new bracelet around his wrist and stands.

Maybe he can.





word attempt 3
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