Like A Damn Sociopath | Day 4 | Bubby vs Mauve/Robin

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She didn't know why but Bellamy's anger seemed to follow her, nipping at her heels persistently as she pushed through the tributes. She couldn't understand why his words had bothered her so much, she wasn't supposed to care what he thought of her- hell she didn't care what anyone thought of her. Well, thats what she told herself, what she had always told herself. What she had to tell herself, to protect herself.

She told herself that it didn't hurt when her mother looked at her with uncertain eyes bordering on repulse. The first time she came home with blood on her hands, Mother had run to her, concerned that the blood belonged to herself. But when Mauve had explained that it was from the cut she had gutted in the alleyway she had watched as her mother pulled away from her, mouth open in shock. Disbelief.

"M-Mauve why did you do that?" Her voice had trembled, her hands on Mauves shoulders, keeping her at arm lengths.

"It was fun." Mauve had responded, wiping bloody hands on the hem of her shirt. It had tried to run, but Mauve was quicker, grabbing it with tight hands it hadn't stood a chance. And then she had killed it, watched as it died in her hands. She told herself that she should be sad, that the normal reaction was to feel guilt... But as it died she had felt her stomach flip the same way it does when she got excited. Her lips pulling back into a joyous grin, her body flushing with a rush of power. She had pretended not to see the way her mothers face fall, ignoring the fear that she saw flash behind eyes that looked identical to her own.

She told herself that she didn't care that mother loved Beth more. She tried so hard to convince herself that she didn't care until that day she had snapped, jealousy sharper than a blade she had broken Beth, broken her beyond repair and she had loved each and every moment of it. She felt no remorse at the sight of her sisters wide, lifeless eyes. She knew that she should have, that it was expected of her. But Mauve was broken, missing the pieces of her heart that forced one to care.

Wasn't it her fault that she found pleasure in others hurt. It was who she was, and in the end it was something that could never be changed. And she wasn't sure if she wanted to change it.

I defended you.

Shut up.

I told Liara that you're worth the trouble.

Shut up.

Don't make me regret that.

Fuck you, Bellamy.

Growling her eyes spot her target, fingers tightly clutching his upper arm she drags him from the feast. He offered no resistance, his mind foggy, his feet unsteady. Mauve had had every intention of killing him the moment she had him alone. She needed a release. This was the hunger games, where murder wasn't considered a crime, and it was day three. She should have a trail of bodied behind her by now. Canons demanding an encore as each body fell. But all she had was the pelt of a mutt, one that had died with her flesh behind its teeth.

"I'm going to kill you, you damned fool," she hisses as she let his arm go. Almost instantly he falls to the ground, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he passed out. "Hey! Hey, wake up!" The toe of her boot pressed into his shoulder shaking him, angry eyes burning with fury. "Damn it," she grunts when it becomes obvious that he wasn't going to wake anytime soon, his body littered with lacerations. Sighing she takes a seat across from him, resigning in her attempts to murder him. As satisfying as it would be to run her blade along his throat, the sound of a canon breaking through the thunder, it would not satiate her desire to hear him cry, a lust that was growing with each passing minute.

Just as she closes her eyes she hears the rustling of a bush, a mutt pushing its way into the clearing dropping something by her side before scurrying off into the shelter of the shrubbery. She picks it up, and it takes her a moment to recognise it as a cassette. Flicking the play she almost tossed the cassette to the floor, ready to crush it with the heel of her boot as Love's voice drifts from the sound box. But her curiosity stops her, her fingers clutching the plastic box tightly.

You hated that I didn't approach you in the Training Center, right? That I ignored you and... Her eyes darken, a snarl on her lips. Maybe she wasn't all that curious after all-

and I thought that was hilarious because I liked to push buttons, I like to push buttons. But Mauve... You wanna know the real reason I didn't approach you in the Training Center Mauve? It's cause when I watched you fight and when I watched you walk and talk in the Training Center I saw a bit of myself. And I don't know if that scared me, I don't think it did... I don't know if it did, if I'm scared of myself or you, and I don't think that matters anymore. But...

You're just as much a Career as any of us in these Games, as me. I think we share some of the same pieces, but I don't know if they're good. I don't know if you know either...

Do you?

Mauve frowns, looking down at the cassette in her hands. Love's voice was strained and she was sure that if she could see his face she would see conflicting emotions, fighting for dominance. Mauve truly believed that Love and herself were more similar than he would have liked to admit to himself. He enjoyed playing the games just as much as her... But he also knew when to stop, registering the line in the sand that Mauve was blind too. But when Love Bellisario looked into a mirror you would not see Mauve Morganstern reflection staring back at him, because even though he didn't want to believe it he had a heart where Mauve lacked one.

He may be fractured, threatening to break. But he wasn't broken, not like her. Where he could heal, she was broken, her pieces refusing to fit back together. She was born broken, destined to never be whole.

And somewhere along the way she had come to accept it. 

Love it, even.

---

She wakes to Robins uneasy eyes, slipping over her in silence. For a moment she just stares, her head resting against her fanny pack, her foul mood intensified by the pounding rain against her head. They were saturated, the rain persistent as it demanded they pack up camp and seek higher ground.

She pack up her things quickly, barely speaking a word to Robin except when demanding him to move quicker. Treading through the muddy trail she looks behind her, words on her lips when she see's movement. A flash of blonde reveals Bubby Caro. He hadn't spotted her yet and she waits to see Liara and Bellamy, watching him closely for her allies. The thought of seeing Bellamy had a surge of annoyance push through her, she didn't want to see him yet, because she wasn't sure if she could stop herself from killing him. And despite herself she didn't want to see him dead, not yet.

After a few more moments it becomes clear that he was alone, and Mauve can't stop the excited bark of laughter that escapes her lips, her foul mood melting into something more pleasant. "Looks like we got ourselves a treat," she says under her breath just as he looks up, her laughter reaching his ears a moment before he bolts and just like a hunter Mauve takes chase. She keeps him to her left, easily closing the distance between them she pushes herself behind one of the trees a few yards ahead of him.

After a moment she steps out from behind her tree, much like she had that first night, her lips pulled back into a grin, "boo."

Instantly she see's a flash of fear and the hairs on her arms raising in anticipation. She had waited so long for this moment. So long that her fingers twitched eagerly for the handle of her axe. He had teased her for too long now, tantalising her under the protection of their alliance.

She was done waiting.

Yesterday she had told Six that she killed him and had the pleasure of watching the red head break, blubbering like a child as he registered her words. She had the pleasure of watching him unravel, cursing her he screamed that he hated her, spit flying from her lips. Yesterday it had been a white lie. Next time she saw Six she would not be lying when she retold the story of Bubby Caro's death. there would be no lies, only the truth and his blood on her hands.

“Mauve! I’m so glad it’s you. I was worried someone else was coming for me. I was worried, um.. sick about you.”

"Really?" She says, pulling her axe from her belt, looking at him with hungry eyes, "cause I think you should her worried sick about what I'm about to do to you-"

“Mauve, look out!” Bubby cries his blade gliding past her and into Robin, slicing open his stomach whilst Robin had been looking behind him like a damned fool, unaware that the warning had been directed at her, because of him. Rolling her eyes she lazily swings her axe onto her shoulder, eager eyes taking in the tired eyes. Robin croaks behind her for Bubby to stay back and Mauve feels her lips curl back into a snarl, her eyes flashing behind her, "Robin stay out-"

A knife flies past her, burying itself into Bubby's leg.

"Robin!" she groans, turning on him with annoyance. "He's mine," she hisses before she turns on Bubby. Finally it was time to make him scream.

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What hurt worse than Robin’s blade spilling blood from my gut was the sick aura of fun Mauve was having. This was a good time for her, and she was taking joy in my pain. But just bleeding wasn’t enough for her. She wanted me to die broken.

Six. How did Six interact with Mauve and not die. Maybe Mauve wanted Six to have the time to grieve me just to find out I wasn’t dead. Just to find out I was dead, now. The way Mauve’s head worked was a deep seeded mystery I wanted nothing to do with.

Six hurt for me? Six cared enough to be upset I was gone? I should have allied with him. No, we wouldn’t have done much to protect each other, but I would’ve trusted him. Mauve wouldn’t have this vendetta against me. Mauve wouldn’t be haunting me.

Even if it ended up being Mauve who killed me, she wouldn’t know how to torture my emotions.

She kept taunting me. She was claiming me. She was sending Robin away to make sure she got to feel every last drop of misery I experienced in my dying moments.  And she was was mutilating me. 

Her axe cut next to my face and into my ear, removing it. I grasped it tightly and screamed out in pain and let her watch as I fetal positioned on the ground praying for the pain to subside. It didn’t, but I did finally release it. Blood caked to my hands and face. 

“Now what are you gonna do Mauve?” I asked with a sense of attitude I’d never known before, “You can’t taunt me if I can’t hear you.”

I waited for a response, but I couldn’t see through the blur of adrenaline, blood and tears and I could only hear a ringing where my ear used to sit. “I hope she starves.”

I regretted the sentence as soon as it slipped my mouth. Mauve may be a lunatic, but her family wasn’t. Wishing death on someone wasn’t my style. It wasn’t who I was.  But I did wish Mauve would die here instead of me, so I gripped tightly to the blade, slippery with my blood and I swung.

*   *   *

His scream filled the air, it fills her with a blissfulness that could only be achieved from a cry filled with agony because of her. His voice hoarse, his breathing ragged, Mauve felt like she was on cloud nine, light headed she moans, half lidded eyes taking in Bubby's broken form. He hugs his knees to his chest, rocking on the ground in his own blood. Maybe she hadn't managed to break his mentality fully, only fracturing it, broken shards scattered at her feet, but physically? Physically Bubby Caro was broken, his blood on her hands, his screams in her ears.

She looks down at his ear, it lays beside Bubby's trembling body, useless and pathetic just like the boy who had once owned it. Her eyes drift back over too Bubby and she waits for him to beg, to beg for her to end it, to kill him and to be over with it.

In the end they always begged, she remembered Beth, fingers wrapped around her neck she had looked into eyes that had almost been identical to her own. Darling Mother had always called them prettier. She would say Mauves reminded her on an iceberg, stunning, intense, but Beths were like the ocean on a sunny day, warm and welcoming, refreshing. They hadn't been so pretty when the blood vessels began to burst, bleeding into the whites.

Between gasps she had begged Mauve to let her go, to stop because she was her sister. She had pleaded with Mauve, insisting that she loved her, and that Mauve also loved her. Mauve in a rush of fury, she balled her fists and striking at her sisters face. The first had broke her nose, blood dripping into her mouth. But still Beth had cried, "Mauve! Mauve please! Please stop! I love you! I love you! I promise, please!" Then Mauve had thrown her other fist into her sisters face, spit and tears dripped from her face. She had not realised that she had been crying. She had not registered it amongst the relief and the joy and the excitement that had overwhelmed her as she watched her sisters face turn from white to purple, fingers wrapped tightly around her neck.

"Mauve.." she had gasped between desperate breathes, "Stop. You love me. I-" fingers scratch tightly at her arms, "I can forgive you."

But Mauve didn't want her forgiveness.

More than anything she wanted her dead.

She loved her sister, and she grieved for her in her own way, but above all else she wanted her dead.

So fingers tighten, and tears turn into laughter, shoulders shaken as wide eyes stare up at her. Conflicting emotions tore through her raging a war path but in the end delight triumphed, just like it always did. She looked down at her sister, brushing her hair from her face and she did not feel regret, she felt relieved, because now her mother didn't have to worry about devoting so much time to loving Beth. Beth was gone. But most of all she felt powerful. It always felt like this when she killed, like a temporary bandaid over the permanently broken pieces of herself and for a short lived time she felt whole. Like she might not be as broken as she thought.

But the higher she climbed the harder she fell.

And she did fall hard, scrambling to hide her tracks and because of her love for her mother she had to lock her up, to keep her safe and to give her time forgive Mauve, because Mauve knew that she loved her, that she just needed time. Time to heal and come to see just how much Mauve did love her. "I did it for you," she had whispered to her one night as she lay in her cot, her body trembling from the cold- or maybe from Mauves proximity. "Because I love you and you love me. She was in the way, always stealing your attention, your affection. I know you can't see it right now, but you will forgive me because you love me."

- A canon fills the air and Mauve's eyes are drawn to Bubby, hoping that it had not belonged to him. It didn't, his eyes staring up at her from the ground, “now what are you gonna do Mauve? You can’t taunt me if I can’t hear you.”

She crouches down beside him, smiling as she brushes the hair from his eyes. "We are done with the taunts, Bubby. Now, all I wish is to see you dead." Another canon booms through the arena. "Your canon will be next-"

“I hope she starves.”

He thrust his blade, his sword nicking at her calf. But she barely even registered the pain, his words slipping under her skin, pushing at the buttons the same way she liked to push. Though she didn't like when the jibes were aimed at her. Sue her.

Fury rips through her, lips pulling back into a nasty snarl.

She knew exactly who he was referring to: her mother. Bubby was the only tribute who knew the truth about her mother. But that wasn't what bothered her, what bothered her was that he wished her to be dead. "Such harsh last words for a boy who vomited when gutting an animal," she spits, "this arena- no, I- have turned you into someone just as cruel me." She pulls away from Bubby, pushing herself to her feet, eyes made of ice staring down at him.

She doesn't reprimanded Robin when he sends the next knife flying into his arm, she only smiles cruelly. "I hope it makes you feel sick to know that in the end you and I are more alike than you would like to admit. You wishing death of an innocent... Thats quite cruel of you, something that I would do."