the stranger i've been // { will vs lys | day 7

Sleep evaded her.

Lysander knew that it was crucial to rest if she wanted to see Arabella again, but the day's events played on repeat in her mind. Bella, broken and bloodied. Holding her as she took her final breath. But Kenji's words stuck with her the most.

"That was her first time, right? Her first death, I mean."

She snorted and rolled her eyes, still clutching tightly to Arabella's lifeless body.

"I thought I was supposed to be the drunk in this duo?"

"Well clearly you're sober so that didn't stick."

An airy laugh escaped her lips. Not because it was funny, but because of the irony of it all. She finally pried her eyes from her friend's dead body and looked directly at his. Something expression told her that he was being serious, that this was no joke to him.

"So you mean she's not actually dead?"

The concept sounded bizarre, implausible, but she listened carefully a spark of hope growing somewhere deep inside of her.

"If she hasn't died yet, then yes." He paused for a brief second and his eyes trailed to his feet. "At least, I didn't stay dead the first time."

Lysander's jaw practically hit the floor. She stared at him wide eyed and in shock. Not over the fact that he had came back to life, but the fact that he had actually died. He was supposed to be the successful one in the District, the one who may actually have a chance to come home. If it hadn't been for this twist, he would be gone for good, barely having a shot at his victory. She finally realized that her mouth was still open, so she cleared her throat and looked back at him patiently, waiting for more.

"Yeah, I died on the second day. woke up the next morning underground, dressed in white, and carrying only this knife." He grabbed a dagger from his bag and twirled it in his fingers a bit. "I had to fight the girl from nine and Em-the boy from one to escape. He killed her, and I..." A long pause. "I killed him."

It wasn't pain behind his voice but confusion, maybe even some guilt. Her district partner had killed someone and all she managed to do was leave people worse for wear. No matter how hard she tried she could not wrap her brain around the idea. Death was permanent. Once you were in his grasp her never let go.

"Was it scary? Dying?"

A whisper so quiet it was barely audible.

"Yeah."

Finally she threw her bag back over her shoulder and forced herself up from the cold, hard ground. Her limbs were stiff from sitting so long, but she dared not to complain.

"Okay, I'm ready to leave now."

And with a final glance at her dead ally her and Kenji walked off to look for a place to settle for the evening.

Later that night, Meredith's picture appeared in the sky. A pain so strong filled her heart she had to grab her chest. Had she already managed to die twice? Or had Kenji made up an elaborate story to get her to follow him? The thought bothered her all night until finally she allowed herself to drift off to sleep with the mild hope that she may be able to see Arabella again.

The next morning she was woken by fog that was so thick she could barely see her hands. Lysander grumbled and rolled over, scooping her bag onto her back and carrying her weapon in hand.

"Kenji? Where are you?"

He was no where to be found. Stolen in the middle of the night, or ran off like Meredith. She shivered at the thought. He couldn't end up dead too. By the sound of it he would not be able to return. Her whole life she had begged to be alone, but not now.

Now the thought was terrifying.

Carefully, she walked through the fog, hoping to find a familiar face. She traveled for what felt like hours, but it seemed hopeless to find anyone in this mess. Lysander did her best to stay quiet, but the amount of times she stubbed her toe on a stray rock made her want to scream. She was about to give up and rest, worried to lose herself more in the mist, when a figure finally appeared.

The boy from Two.

She recognized him immediately as Meredith's district partner, and while she was hoping to find someone she knew, this is most certainly not the face she wanted to see.

"What, no Sherman today?"

His weapon flies from his hand in one smooth motion, driving itself into her thigh. She yelps and yanks it from her leg, tossing it to the side.

"Arabella," she hissed, correcting him. She approached him slowly with her weapon raised, still unsure of her feet.

"No I...I couldn't save her." It's painful for her to force the words from her lips, the deaths of yesterday still fresh wounds. "Or Meredith. She just disappeared and the next night her face was in the sky. She trusted you though."

Another step closer.

"Do you know what happened to her?"

"I stabbed her in the back."

For a moment everything freezes. It's just him and her and an empty beach. There's no more sound of the thick water crashing upon the shore, no more cries of pain or heavy breathing. Just silence.

Just them.

He stabbed her in the back.

Lysander's brain bounced between the meaning of the words. Literally? Figuratively? Or maybe both. Betrayal was common in her parent's line of work. There was a reason they talked to few and trusted none. Anybody could be bought for the right price. Money, freedom, silence. She looked at the boy and cocked her head.

Whatever could Will Johnwayne's price be?

Her mind contemplated the fact. What would he sell out for? Life? Death? She wanted to believe in Meredith, that he was a good person and that he deserved to be trusted. But her eyes met the knife in his hand and her memory of Mer's picture in the sky told her she had been wrong. This boy had gone and killed his own District partner out of cold blood. A little girl who had put her faith in him, but in the end it was worthless. It got her no where and he only helped her to meet Death quicker. The realization struck and she stared at him open mouthed, horror written across her face. Finally, time resumed and the waves continued to crash and the pain in her leg continued to burn.

But it was too late.

His knife came flying at her like the speed of light. She tried to dodge it at the last second, but she was too lost in thought to be successful and the weapon cut deep into her stomach. Lysander grunted and doubled over in pain. Instinctively her free arm came to her abdomen, and when she pulled it away the metal was covered in blood. It glistened on the silver, the sun reflecting on the areas that were still clean. She was mesmerized for a second before bringing her focus back to the problem at hand.

"Tell me. Did you at least have the courage to look her in the eye?"

Rage boiled over. It started in the pit of her stomach as a slight tickle, but progressively it turned into a fire that overtook her whole body. Not only did he slay her down but every bit of trust she had given him too. It made her weak and vulnerable and he wasn't know fool. He took advantage of it and killed her when she least expected it. Now Lysander could only see red.

She wanted his blood on her hands.

"Aren't you supposed to get another chance around here? What did you do? Tear her apart so badly that even the Capitol couldn't put her back together?"

Her voice grew louder with each word. The thought of Meredith laying there torn apart sent a pain through her chest that she thought might make her collapse. Her metal hand reached towards her heart, trying to rip it from her chest.

"Tell me. Did it make you feel good?"

Fables.

White lies.

The truth.

Lysnander's whole life had been a mixture of the three. When your family deals in business as under wraps as hers does, it's hard to ever get a straight answer. To the public, they owned the District's largest and most popular oil refinery, even supplying other Districts, even the Capitol with high quality oil. However, those who dealt in the darker dealings of the District knew what their business was truly about.

When she was younger, her mother told her elaborate stories of Hyram's work. That he was practically saving the District with his oil trades and business skills. Back then she had looked up to him, admired him even, and one day wanted to grow up to be just like him. As the years passed she grew more aware of her surroundings and started to become suspicious. There were strange men who would come to the house late at night to do business, ones she knew did not work at the refinery. Some even came in and she could swear they never came back out. Mother said they were business associates on important calls. She believed. Until one day she was certain that three of them met in her father's office, but when she went to check it was only Hyram sitting at his desk as if nothing ever happened. That is when Lysander finally demanded the truth.

And she has never been the same since.

Sometimes the truth can do more harm than good, and she just asked Will to tell her the truth. Nothing less, nothing more. She had demanded answers.

Part of her wished that she could take it back.

"You think I'd tell you that? Whatever shit you think I did says more 'bout you than it does me."

A cold, harsh laugh escaped her lips. Her whole life she had tried to be different than her family, to prove that she was nothing like them. She had been convinced that she had proved herself, that she wasn't who they always wanted her to be. But her time here has proven that they've been right all along.

"Unfortunately, we have a tendency to become exactly what people imagine us to be. So what are you? Are you a monster? Or do you still have heart?"

Hyram was a killer and a thief. A conman with many faces. Lysander despised him and his ways, but was she really any better? She had come here prepared die, but now she was fighting for her life prepared to take down anyone who stands in her way. Does that make her a liar?

Does it make her weak?

"I hated every minute of it and I feel great. Maybe I'll do it to you too."

The knife flew right towards her center, but she skillfully danced away. He was quick, but she was quicker and as he released the second knife she ducked and it flew straight over her head.

"Not if I beat you to it."

The truth has always hurt.

But Lysander Mae become accustomed to suffering.

Red.

The color burns bright behind her eyes.

Rage for Cyro and Arabella. Rage for Meredith. And even rage for herself. Rage for the girl she had left behind in District Five, but also for the girl she had become. It burned bright and it burned long, warming up her entire body. She hated this boy. She hated him with all her being and she didn't even know who he was. Maybe he had a family, maybe he had the perfect life back home. But he was here and so was she which meant one of them had to die.

And she'd be damned if it was her.

Lysander's blood boiled enough almost to forget the pain entirely, but her thigh and chest still throbbed. She took a minute to revel in her pain, only to be struck by another wave of heat. His knife had cut deep into her hand. Her blood added to the already stained sand, deepening its shade of red. She yelled loudly as the fire spread down to her fingers and up to her elbow. Will's aim was precise and exact, the years of his career clearly shining through.

She prayed that next time it would not.

Her hand shone crimson before she wiped the back of it on her robe, smearing the blood up the rest up her arm. The gash was relentless and the blood spilled over once more, dripping down her fingers and onto the ground. Lysander winced as she gripped her weapon tighter, too scared to let go of her only life line.

"Ain't any of your fucking business if I do."

"All of Panem is watching us right now. I'm pretty sure it's everybody's business."

One step closer to the boy with gritted teeth and pain radiating throughout her body. If there was one valuable thing that Hyram taught her it's that giving up is never an option, even if all hope seems lost.

"I'm William goddamn Johnwayne. I'm human."

A laugh so cold escaped her lips that it even chilled her to the bone.

"And I'm Lysander Mae, but it doesn't matter. We're both going to die anyway."

Her heart was shattered.

Every day since Hazel's death a piece of her was stolen. At first they were so small it was hardly noticeable, but then they grew and grew and every time she lost a new piece she became a new person. At first she tried to put them back into place, but eventually it became too much and she let her pieces scatter the ground, too scared to become the person she used to be.

Lysander was broken.

And Will Johnwayne was taking more than she had left.

"Everybody's watching and you think they're cheering for you. You'll get your big hero moment for puttin' down a rabid dog named Johnwayne. Someone somewhere might actually like you."

He almost had her pegged for exactly who she was, but not quite. She let out an airy laugh.

"That's where you're wrong. The only thing they're cheering for back home is my inevitable death. You just happen to be in the way of proving them wrong."

His knife came flying toward her face and she quickly put her arm up to deflect it. It cut into her skin before bouncing onto the ground. Her jaw clenched and she sucked air through her teeth doing her best to not cry out in pain.

"I don't have a damn thing to repent for. I'm not the villain in this situation, Lizzy Mae. I didn't abandon a girl with one leg missing just so I didn't have to watch it when she bled to death."

"She- she ran away!" She choked on her own words, trying her hardest to get them out. "At least I wasn't the one who plunged a knife into her back."

But the more she thought about it, the more she realized she just as much did the same.

Lysander was falling apart.

And she wasn't sure how to put herself back together.

Vision blurred.

Arms and legs weak.

It felt as if she had drank an entire bottle of vodka. The way the world spun around her. Three instead of just one Career boy standing in front of her. Legs barely able to hold her body up, tripping when there was nothing in front of her. It reminded her of the drunkest she's ever been, but a hell of a lot more painful.

"No, you weren't. She didn't trust you enough for that, did she?"

Lysander took a step closer. The boy seemed to have moved further away, though she could almost swear neither of them had moved an inch. Sweat dripped into her eyes obscuring her blurred vision even more.Her eyes squinted as she tried to focus on the singular boy, the real one, and finally she made out his shape. She leaned her real arm onto her weapon, using the stability of the morning star to keep herself upright.

Because without it she finally might come crashing down.

"You think this was about trust? She asked you knowing you were evil enough to follow through."

Each word was raspier then the last. Every breath she took sent a pain throughout her entire chest, each one grew shorter and shorter. Soon there would be no more air to breathe.

Soon she would be no more.

"Tell me Will Johnwayne. Do you like to watch people suffer?"