hearts out for revenge // nevermore vs. osl day 6

The silence does not feel as excruciating with Juliet as it did with the others. Grief from Alfonso and the permanent quietness from Eloise, he feels as though he can end this calmness with a conversation that is not a burden to others. Juliet is still a stranger to him, there is a whole world behind her that is likely as interesting as the tale in the book that sits on his lap.

“Is Twelve as bad as they say it is...to live in?”

It is the very last of the living Districts, people say Six is halfway to being the worst. Although he does not understand how a fishing District comes before medicines. He hopes it is enough to break the ice, he hopes is not a question that will offend. Oh no, was it too mean of a question to ask first?

Wally grips onto the thick literature, his eyes on Juliet as he waits for answer.

“Depends what part you live in," So there must be a rich section in Twelve like there is in Six, a surprise for all he has been told of twelve is that every part is coated in coal dust. "You could say I’m in the better half.”

He wonders what stereotypes of Six are shared in whispers. Maybe they are seen to be nerdy scientists or the lowest of drug abusers. Nobody ever talks about Six, other than mentioning Teddy Ursa’s name. “I guess that everywhere has a better half...I think I was born in the better half of six. Haven’t seen much of it.” A lie somewhat, Cassidy has customers in the rich parts. As he has ventured through its streets on an occasional nightly outing. Their scraps are much tastier than the other parts…

“How come? I always thought Six was... small, for some reason.”

The small world that heals all the sick. Walter wonders if teachings of Panem are correct at all, maybe District Seven is not full of trees or Ten maybe does not smell of cow pat and Mace Emberstatt’s burnt cakes. “There is the half where medicines are made...and the half where medicines are abused. You can guess where I live.” He may as well speak the truth, he has never masked his reality with a fantasy world of richness and purity. It is what it is. He has learnt to live with it, it really is all he knows.

Juliet asks him if it is the latter. Of course, there is no fairy-tale attached to Walter Blake’s life, even now that he is in this adventure land. He nods. “Yeah it’s not fun, I’ve just got to make it fun myself." Rusty tetanus filled playgrounds and friends that each take it in turns to be six feet under. He makes do with what is left and who is left around him, enough to get him away from the reality of Cassidy and his band on not so very merry men.
“You've got to live with what you've been given. Might as well make it fun while you still can."

"Got a lot of freedom though," Walter includes, shoving his book into his satchel after realising that there will be no time tonight to read through its chapters, especially with this conversation. "Have you got family at home?”

He may as well add the crucial question. There will be a point where he must share the tale of his devastating orphan life. Not that he deserves pity from anyone, there are plenty of orphans in Six and he is sure District Twelve has its fair share too. It is likely that tributes alive in this arena are motherless. It is just reality. It is just his life. Memories of his mother still float in his head. All that he sees of her is the horrid state she got herself into, he cannot remember what she looked like before she turned to the poison. And his papa, he only has his reflection to pick out to understand what he looked like.

"I'm one of eight siblings." He does not know what it is so surprising, he is told that Alfonso’s family populate half of Eleven. "Got my fair share. How about you?"

”Wow.” It is not jealousy that makes him fascinated. He really does not know why he is struck with such shock. His eyes are beaming under the moonlight. Maybe he likes his freedom. Maybe he yearns for the company. For the love a family gives. He will never know… “Cassidy says his workers are family, but I don’t think so. I guess I am just a lone wolf...”

"Wait..." His reality is just as shocking to her. "You don't have a family?!"

“No my mom died. Don’t know who my papa is. I live with my mum’s..." It is embarrassing really, his situation. Maybe an orphanage would have been a better place to end up than…”dealer.”

”Holy shit kid.”

Walter still wonders why Cassidy accepted a scrawny little juvenile, plenty of his clients have ended up dead at his door with infants left behind. What makes him so special out of all the drug abusers dustbin babies? It is the free labour. That is all he can accept. He is child labour, with the hassle of having to fill a plate twice a day…

"That why you...?"

It is why he is here, of course. If reality was even slightly better, he would have been cruel on the reaping day and just hoped the boy who cried for his mother survived as long as he has.

"I think so, I guess I needed a change...” Walter confesses, and the agony that has trapped him for the past few days reminds him of its presence. Regret. It is the thing that has been chewing at his head since day one. Five days later and he still lives, it is giving him some hope… “I regret it but I don’t know who I’ll grow up to be.”

"It's okay to be scared about that. About growing up."

He could just end up like his mom. Buried in a mass grave and forgotten. At least his name will be whispered in history if he dies in this arena.

"We made our decisions. We've just gotta live with them."

”Yeah I guess.” He has got to accept his decision now, the destination that it has ended him up in. All this pain, it is his new reality. He has just got be a big kid and suck it up. “Did you volunteer for your sister?” The question’s purpose is to take away his own decision from his thought, the girl did the same thing as him but for different reasons…

Walter keeps his eye on her as she speaks of her sister, a brave act. He wonders if he had a sister or a brother, would he do the same? Would they have done the same for him? It is not his reality; he will never know.

“You are so brave...” He wonders if that crying for momma boy is watching him right now. Thanking him for the pain he has taken in his stead. He can’t remember his name, Tommy or Tomas something.

“We’ll get there." Walter signs off the night with his false hope. There is no we in this game, there will be a time where they have to part. Where one will stand and the other will fall. "We’ll get home.” He curls up into a ball, turning his back on Juliet.

Which part of home will he return to? The cemetery or Mr Ursa’s neighbourhood?

---

Walter must really be walking in circles. The jungle and the river, both locations have their uses and the empty canteen that he carries yearns to be filled with the crystal-clear water. The water that seems to be missing an important element and Juliet is quick to notice it. Where is Bok Bok?

”Oh I hope he got free!”

He follows Juliet to the shore, dipping his canteen into the river and catching enough water to fill it to its rim. Before he seals the lid, he drops one of the cleansing tablets in, giving it a shake and screwing the lid tight. He’ll enjoy that later; he just wishes it could be as icy cold as it is now.

"You're not a hard girl to find."

It is not a new voice, familiar from the day before. Walter swings his sword around to look at the voice’s holder, but it is to late for his signature flailing of the blade as a spear contacts Juliet’s leg.

It is them from yesterday, friends of the boy he killed. His allies and there are not on a revenge act, except their torment poor Juliet.

”What has Juliet done to deserve this?” Walter cries out to the villains, his sword ready in action. ”I killed your friend…” He is does not know whether to say sorry. Or to rub it into their faces. Neither will make this situation better.

The kid card, Walter is playing It again. His curled locks are overlooked, the bigger parties have each other to worry about over him. They have no time to waste on such a tiresome target. An easily knocked over victim. His arms flare with the movement of his sword as it cuts deep into the other boy’s back. He is sure his wrist is unlikely to ever heal, since the mutt wacked it hard, it has not had time to rest and repair. And his collar bone has already marked its grave. There is no immunity to this pain, there never will be.

”Juliet!”

It is a cry from his throat, maybe it could be called a scream. It is clean. It has gone. Just like Alfonso’s two days ago. It is all beginning to topple again. He is helpless, hopeless on keeping anyone alive. It is not fair how easy his friends are being swiped away from him.

Walter moves close to Juliet in the water, becoming a mini shield with the sword raised at chest level. Both of his eyes pinned on the two predators as his blade is ready to strike at any movement. ”You are so mean!” He calls out to the pair, tears streaming past his cheeks and onto his cheeks. ”How can you have done that?”

Six days later and he still questions morals. He has grown up in a cruel world, how has he become so blind?