down the drain // fast+bi vs mutts

Some of the others from home used to get nightmares, their screams on excursion nights became familiar reminders of their fear. I never understood the concept really, being scared of some shit inside of your own head. My mind is a fucking mess already and if that doesn't scare me then some fake face with a knife isn't gonna get me going. Like go ahead, rip me limb from limb imaginatively. I do that to myself when I'm awake anyways.

The sound of Softie boy Saylor's mumbling is all I hear from the little roost I've mad atop some rock, or maybe a trash heap, I really have no idea. Just a couple feet below he is all snuggled up next to Red Head Firey Fighter Fridae. I can't imagine what kind of sentimental stories they are sharing, but I recognize where Fridae's fingers are going immediately. My teeth tighten and I turn my eyes, cold and empty mirrors of myself, up towards the sky.

"That's gonna hurt like a bitch."

I mumble to myself making an unamused face at the moon's lazy yellow eye.

Pop.

I shudder a little, yea that hurt.

The sobbing I'm all but certain I'll hear never catches my ears and I even turn my eyes back down towards the ground only to see them silently slipping down Softie's face. Something in my stomach shifts. I remember the first time I stayed silent when I cried. The first time I bottled up a scream and turned it into absolute nothingness. Something about that little Softie doing the same thing doesn't feel right. I feel the back of my teeth grinding together. But for the second that feeling is there, it's gone again. Back to the game of nearly reaching the surface for air, but only finding a wave waiting.

Like a pair of daggers, two eyes catch my attention. It's only for a second, but it's there. What the fuck are you looking at Silk? It's not like I'm the one named after a fabric. But screw it, let her stare all she wants. I shoot her a short wink if she is still looking out of the corners of her eyes. She knows as well as I do that sooner or later these stares and winks will turn into screams and spears. How wrong is it of me to wonder what the sound of her screams will be like? Not yet though, we both know we need each other especially after losing earlier today. For now the winks can stay, people always like me more when I'm winking than making them bleed anyways.

I don't wake up for the Anthem, but I find myself the only one awake just before dawn. As far as I can see, which isn't much cause I definently need to look into getting a pair of glasses at some point, no one is planning to pop a sword into any of us. So I slip out of my next and walk a couple yards away with my warhammer. I don't know, I guess I just need some space. Who would have thought I'd be around more people in the arena than I have been most of my life?

My gaze drops down to the hammer in my hands and I stare at the metallic reflection. I know there's a boy there, I can see his blonde hair and his ocean eyes, but at the same time I see nothing. An empty slate of metal with nothing to see. One of my hands rises to the red bandages wrapped around my abs. The subtle pain of my touch reminds me that at the very least, they see me.

I snort.

"You fucking bitch."

I whisper to myself.

...

Back at the camp, I send a foot unapologetically into Fridae to wake her up. Her eyes meet mine and I shrug. It's time to go, Lady Le Roux and her shocking new spear have a hunger for adventure. I'll admit too, I wouldn't mind seeing more of this place. Even if it is more garbage heap than arena.

The stench sears my nose before my eyes even see it. At first I'm honestly eyeing up Softie to see if he has finally shit himself, but then I see it. Brown, bubbling, bile. The water, no, the literal flood of feces is about the most disgusting surface I've seen. But what bothers me even more, is how it makes me miss the ocean. It pisses me off as I prod the top of it with my hammer.

"This is just so wrong."

I start to say when a sudden splash sends some of the shit across my face. I am too busy trying to GAG, which I am not accustom to (take notes), that I don't even see the thing before it burrows lightly into my neck. I'm about to absolute wail on this little piece of- when Fridae's actual fists sends the thing right off my neck. I can't help but laugh as I shove the sewage off of my skin.

"Okay Fisticuffs Fridae, I see you. Thanks."

But my humor soon turns into movement as I raise the hammer high over my head. Fuck whack-a-mole, I'm playing whack-an-eel. 

"we would say anything
just to hear
what we want
right or wrong
we lie to be forgiven."