friends are meant to be forever [walter] day 8

” Friends are meant to be forever. You must not have been my friend. Sleep well Eloise.” How has it ended this way, when he was so sure his coffin was going to be filled?

It is not instant like his other kills. Walter focused so much on his own blood loss that he didn’t even notice theirs. Honestly this will to live is one surprising silent thing. It can outlive lost limbs and broken bones. Canon fire, there are just two more to go. All he can do is finally surrender to his body’s begging to collapse to the jungle’s floor. Walter has survived this fight, but will he survive a septic shock through the night? So many wounds to clean and wrap up, he needs to be sure he does not miss one. For every fibre of his body boasts a stinging pain that has no epicentre.

What must he do now? Is there time to sleep or does he have to hunt down whoever is left in here, just like Noel did with him. Walter is not even sure who is left, he really regrets not paying attention to the faces in the sky. Hopefully it is not a towering career. Hopefully it is someone on his level. Although the most exhausting fight has been with someone at the same advantage as him, he did after all put a sword through the eye of a girl from a career District.

Hopefully he can carry this will to survive for one more day. Just one more day. Eight days have ticked by, he can survive the ninth. He keeps telling himself that he will survive it. He must. For the life that he has yet to live.

Neighbours with Teddy Ursa, his family and that boy who got resurrected. A whole house to himself, without having to see Cassidy’s face ever again. A few years left of a real education. Food on his plate that is hot and not a week past its sell by date. Clothes! Clothes that fit him, not like the tight shirt he nearly had to wear for reaping although he did find comfort in the dress that was left to wear. All these little things, they will balance out the first disastrous thirteen years of his life. Just one more day will decide if he lives another twenty-four hours or maybe another twenty-four years…

Walter rests his head against the base of the jungle’s tree, his eyes to the sky as the rain pours through the canopy of the jungle. He lets the droplets rinse away the blood from his face. He will demand a mirror as soon as he gets out of here, see what this new beast looks like. The arena has not only taken his limbs, it has wiped away most of his decency. He has gone from not harming others to killing an old ally and there is not much grief left behind. It is becoming exhausting this grieving. It is just as painful as his phantom foot. This mourning can’t go on. He needs to wipe the tears and hop out of here with his heart beating and his mind whole. What a disaster post traumatic stress will be for him, he has seen so many sufferers on Cassidy’s client list.