alive [annie] [tw]

Because they both knew that Alabaster Morrisen was not going to win in a fight against the very girl that he turned into a monster. It had been years since she had even set foot into the fray, mostly because she did not have anything to prove. Sometimes she wondered if she did still have it, and maybe it would take years for her to do just that again. 

She was still sure she could kill her father with a simple stroke of her hand. Porcelain fingers drawing crimson from unsuspecting flesh. 

It would probably taste just as sweet.

With just a little bit of bitterness.

Maybe it would be easier if she just took herself out. She knew how to do it all too well. She had knowledge of the human body that she didn’t exactly need anymore. The right vein to puncture, the length she needed to slice into in order to draw the right amount of blood, the amount of time the body needed to be deprived of oxygen. Calculations that could be solved for easily in her head living rent free and ready to be used.

All of which had crossed her mind at different times of the night.

She was never talking about the pleasantries that the games had to offer her. That was a different type of lonely, the kind that involved rooms full of people that barely even knew you. The ones where Annie could easily slip in and out of now that she was no longer the spotlight victor.

She didn’t mind it at first, but it grew on her, and not in a way that made her feel good. It encroached and suffocated her some nights, held her by the neck and kissed her goodnight.

And she let it.

Maybe it would be easier for her to disappear now that she was no longer the only winner from the 80th games. Shy could take up the mantle and the capitol could show off just how shiny he was. She was the old model, miles put in, creaks in the joints, and worse for wear. Shy was the brand spanking new image of what it meant to be a survivor. Not Annie, or any of the other victors. His life was forfeit… twice. One more time than Annies, and even Lysander as she thought about it more.

Sure, two survived, one died, and none of them had come out any better, but that is not what the capitol had cared about.

Annie had it all figured out in her head anyway. Told multiple times that she would never amount to anything. Then, when she actually did amount to something, it would be short lived. A fifteen minute walk of shame that she would never be able to scrub off of her.

No matter how hard she tried.

[TW: allusion to suicide attempt]


And even now, as she laid out on the patio on the rooftop, she had ordered the fish. She requested a steak knife with it, said it would be easier to cut into. She had thanked the avox that brought her the meal, smiling at them as she nodded for them to leave her. She had been sitting alone, sipping on a glass of wine as she waited to dig into her meal. The sun had been setting, and to her surprise she had seen one too many people in this particular restaurant. 

She took a bite of her fish, slicing into it with very little resistance. She now knew the knife was sharp, it glinted in the sunset, waves of orange hitting her skin and making her glow a particular shade that she had never seen before. Maybe it was because she had never seen herself as beautiful, or worth anything.

She ran her finger against the blade, feeling a tingle as she saw something drip from it.

It didn’t take long for her to see black though.