good things happen to people that are bad {fast & bi} day 1
Feb 22, 2021 19:31:47 GMT -5
Post by rook on Feb 22, 2021 19:31:47 GMT -5
fridae drummond
what doesn't kill you makes you wish that it had
and good things happen to people that are bad
so when the party came to life, i wish i'd stayed in bed
but when i went to say goodbye, all of my friends said
and good things happen to people that are bad
so when the party came to life, i wish i'd stayed in bed
but when i went to say goodbye, all of my friends said
I never thought that after losing everything in a cage fight I'd still enjoy getting hit so much.
It's kind of fucked up how high I get on that adrenaline. Fucked up in that it's dripping out of my stomach, red and angry, and I can't feel a damn thing. My brain is doing everything it can to keep me going, even preventing me from feeling pain, just so I can live for a few more hours. Just so I can continue. And here I am half-laughing because it makes me feel good, because it means I'm alive, because it means I'm not dead.
The thing is, I've felt nothing for so many months that I'm not even sure if I'm me anymore. I've become detached from that wide eyed journalist who set out with such excitement, keen to document and expose all the corruption in Nine. That girl is gone, she's nothing more than a memory to me now, a fragment replaced by something that isn't any less broken by any stretch, just not the same.
I feel sick, and I don't think it's the blood loss. An overwhelming sense of longing pulls my chest, and I realise just how sad it is - leaving behind all those different versions of yourself. They were cast aside like they never even mattered to me. It's like I miss something I've never had, I miss history I never experienced, people I never loved.
My smile fades into a grimace, and I follow my allies around the circumference of the Cornucopia. The area is mostly abandoned, some Tributes remain - the ones that fought off all the rest to win their pick of the wealth. The rest of us circle around, picking at the earth for scraps, hyenas in the wasteland. Everyone is too tired to fight, too wounded to want to try and retaliate, and there's almost this unspoken truce written in the distance between the remaining groups.
Turner limbs alongside me, bleeding as much as I am after being stabbed, but in remarkably better spirits. He's a Career, built like a brick shithouse and towering over me in height. Much like me he took some bad stab wounds to the abdomen, but instead of treating it effectively, he keeps agitating it with his fingers instead, some kind of morbid curiosity in his eyes.
I start to feel a little sick now.
"Can we stop?" I don't know why I'm asking, because I've already stopped walking and sat down in the dusty earth.
The adrenaline has worn off, I'm in a lot of pain, and I'm losing blood by the litre. I feel a cold chill running through me, and although I try to fight the shakes my body starts to quiver uncontrollably nonetheless.
Turner stands monolithic above me, his shadow like a cloak over my slumped body. I don't know if it's sympathy in his eyes or pity - maybe disgust? Careers don't have a lot of time for weak middle district girls with gaping stomach wounds, if history is anything to go by.
"I-I've never been stabbed before." I say it out loud, and then it becomes fact to me.
This is not something I know how to process. I'm probably in shock. I'm definitely in pain. Fear chokes me, two hands around the throat and tightening with every second that passes.
"You have to breathe. You're going to be fine." Turner says calmly, reaching down and dragging me up and onto a rock, where we both rest.
I open my lungs and swallow what I can, exhaling through my mouth slowly to reduce my heart rate, like they told me in the Capitol. My hands shake, bruised knuckles purple under a poisoned green sun. The air here does not taste right.
"I've seen kids ripped apart by sharks worse who have been fine. Its just gonna hurt like a bitch for a while, a bad bitch." He says with a great white smile on his face.
I nod like I understand - I don't. 90% of confidence is pretending you know what you're doing, and the other 10% is actually doing it. If I do what Turner and Silk say then I've got a better chance of surviving than on my own. The only problem is, they won't keep me around if they don't think I can keep up with them. They need to know I'm in their league. I take a few more shaky breaths and do what I always do - fake it till I make it.
"Dude, I am the bad bitch." I spit a glob of ruby red blood into the dirt.
oh boy here comes the killjoy
chill the fuck out, you're so young
just shut up, you're bringing me down
and parties are supposed to be fun
chill the fuck out, you're so young
just shut up, you're bringing me down
and parties are supposed to be fun