Face to Face with the Reminiscent Past {Ruthie}

[Kevin]

Anani Petros

The family is a haven in a heartless world

The effulgent sunlight peered through the translucent and diaphanous wisps of clouds as dawn broke upon the lonesome abode of a lanky and weary 16 year old. As the soft illuminating glow peeked through the cracks of the doors of an antiquated side-storage room, it lightly hit the eyes of Anani Petros. The particular musky air inside that particular storage room had been still and quite silent, but abruptly, Anani's eyes urgently shot open. His eyes displayed guilt, apprehension, and even a slight touch of lugubriousness. After realizing that he was, in fact, in his usual storage room, he gave a sigh of shaky relief as he weaved both his hands through his hair. It had been a rough couple of weeks for him and especially since the 55th Hunger Games had gotten underway, nightmares had plagued his restless nights.

The 55th Hunger Games. He had never thought that something that seemed so trivial and distant would affect his life so greatly. Because of this, he had lost everything he had built up in the last few years of his life. It wasn't to say that he had anything particularly great saved up, but he had been living rather comfortably, even as a discreet vagabond. All of the money he had saved from the miscellaneous jobs he earned off the streets was all spent up. All of it. This isn't a hyperbole where one means to say that "all of it" is used to describe most of the money one has. This is the literal meaning of "all of it," and Anani had indeed used all of his money in one sweep. Whether this had been for a good cause was still heavily debated by his ambivalent mind.

So what had he used all his savings on? The savings he relied on to pay for his diurnal repasts? The savings he relied on to maybe one day start a family of his own? He had used the money on the lone remaining member of his family. He had used his money to help fund his sister, Nisa Petros, stay alive in the 55th Hunger Games.

As his eyes wandered around the recently familiarized, downtrodden shack, Anani slowly pulled himself off the miserable excuse that was a mattress and reached for the nearby doorknob, only to stumble and trip over a random assortment of musty items that had been stored there for many decades. With a groan of misery and a spurt of rage, Anani pounded the ground as a couple tears flowed from his already drained eyes.

"Why, Nisa, why?" Anani murmured, "You just had to... you just had to make my life more messed up then it already is…" Anani turned himself upright again as he stared at the ceiling through opaque eyes. Nisa... I'm sorry... but I had to... God damn it! I had to... I had to... I needed to survive! I didn't know... I love you, but it would have been so much easier if you had just... No. NO! It was my job to protect you.... Our father entrusted me with that... And now look at me... I'm a freaking coward! Hiding in the shadows... Look at me now... Look at your brother, who was unsure of using his savings to support you in a game of life and death. A brother who wanted you dead so that it would make his life easier.... A brother who wanted to just wait out comfortably in his corner, watching you suffer and bleed to the inevitable death that had been almost guaranteed by the reaping... A brother who should have protected you from the very beginning... A brother who never should have left you alone in that cave where you slowly lost a part of your sanity... Here I question if I would even take it back, whether I would actually go back in time if I had the chance and take it all back... I should regret it shouldn't I? Shouldn't I? Come on, Anani, pull yourself together! Put aside your greed, put aside your selfishness, and put aside your apprehension! Just like when you had that moment... you had the guts to give all your money to the sister that you care about so dearly...

As more tears flowed onto the dirty floor, Anani gave another shudder. Anani was very torn at this point. Even though he realized his vices, his realization did not lessen the impact of his past decisions and his present opinions of them on his guilty mind. Guilt had followed him ever since he had visited the cave for the last time to see that his only sibling, his dear sister, had disappeared. Even though he had tried to forget about it and move on so that he could build a better life for himself, guilt still followed his dream and actions. He eventually did learn that the decision to abandon his sister had been a self-beneficial one, but even so, he felt guilt rend apart what was left of his callous soul. When he finally saw his sister again in that town square, being called up for the Hunger Games, after oh so many years, the parts of his mind that hadn't been over-run by guilt proceeded to yield to the grasps of the already tainted parts of his mind.

After taking another deep sigh, Anani pulled himself off the ground once more and proceeded to support himself against a nearby desk. Successfully standing up this time, he brusquely brushed his tears with his left arm and turned the rusty knob of the storage shed. After rattling it a couple times and forcing the door to open, Anani stepped out into the warm but welcoming heat of the morning sun. He started to walk towards the more populated area of the district as he avoided the gazes from the shifty figures of his area. He had been coerced to move to a poorer part of town ever since he had used all of his money, and the residents of those parts were well-known for their less-than noble conduct. After escaping that part of town, Anani lessened his pace as he randomly walked around still debating with himself on what to do about his recent predicament.

Ever since he had found out that his sister had lived through the Hunger Games miraculously, he had been tormenting himself to build up enough courage to face her once more. He may have funded her during the games, but that still didn’t excuse his heinous morality when he had left her all alone in the cave. Even if he had gotten his mind off the self-torment, his diurnal nightmares would continue to haunt him as it replayed certain gruesome scenes of the Games over and over again. Sometimes, the nightmares would depict him actually at the Games, but he was never able to protect his sister from the incessant harm that would come to her. And Dru… What Dru, what that nasty Career Tribute had done to his sister… He had been grateful throughout the Games for her aid and love that she provided to Nisa, especially since it was the aid and love that he had never been able to provide for Nisa himself. But all that had been dissipated in that one swift strike of her blade. That particular scene would replay itself in his mind over and over again incessantly as he spent his days roaming around the district, scrounging whatever food he could find to sustain himself. He still remembered the exact place where he stood when he watched his dear twelve year old sister lose her left arm.

People had been cheering when Nisa had won, joyously shouting how it continued their districts serendipitous streak of victory, but Anani had felt no happier from when he had heard his sister’s name being called up at the reaping. The guilt… had been a recurring thing. The fact that she had survived would mean that he would have to live with the duress of that guilt for the rest of his life… It was a terrible thought but he had never imagined he would have to face his sister again. Even though he loved her, his dear own sister, it would hurt him more to see how much he had caused her in the past. He wanted to forget about the past and he wanted it enough to the point that he wanted his sister to die in the Hunger Games.

But obviously, since he used his money to support her, there had been a small part of him that wanted her alive, just to give her that one last hug, and maybe say sorry and that he had loved her ever since the beginning. But now, since that one small part of him had its wish granted, he didn’t know whether he would actually go up to his own sister to talk to her again, to reminisce about their horrible past and about how much of a turn in their fortune this turned out to be. The problem was that no matter what, he would never be sure whether he would be going to his sister to bestow upon her the love she had always deserved, or would be just leeching off of her and her now near-infinite wealth.

On the subject of money, he did keep his financial status in mind. Money had always been something he had craved, something he had always had too little of. Now that his sister had great amounts of it, he knew that his selfish side would seek her out eventually. Even if his moral side (if Anani had a moral side), was able to fend off his selfish side for a while, he knew that his frugal lifestyle and the eventual augmenting, gnawing hunger would force him to crawl back to his sister, asking for her aid. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to turn out. It was supposed to be the older brother protecting the younger sister, telling her that everything would be alright and that he would fend for her. But no, this was the opposite of a typical cliché fairytale. It would be the evil, callous, selfish brother that would be begging for her mercy, her love and understanding of his misdeeds of the past.

He didn’t want that. He didn’t want to be the evil brother in the antithesis of a cliché fairytale. He wanted to be the brother with that last drop of goodness in him. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to apologize without turning to tears and earnest requests for some monetary gain. He just wanted to apologize and then walk away. That would be the best way for him to not be tempted. He wanted to atone for all the bad deeds he had done, and ask his sister for her forgiveness. He would let her know that he had loved her and that he still does love her. All he would ask in return is for her grace and her love in return. Not her money. He would refuse to stay with her.

As Anani mindlessly walked by the scarce crowd of the early morning, his eyes glazed over the far-off area where he knew his sister would be sleeping. With a shaky sigh, he began to venture towards the high-end houses where the victors of past Hunger Games resided. As if to forewarn him of the clash of his own virtuous and sinful desires, he felt another shudder down his spine as he dreaded even imagining the elegant and beautiful house his sister would be in. Trudging on towards his sister, people started to give annoyed and even angry glances towards the emaciated sixteen year old, dressed in rather dirty garbs. These stares and grumbles became worse as he drew nearer and nearer towards the highest-end of the houses in District 12. Without giving any notice to the rather detrimental remarks that passed through his ears, he continued to stare just in front of his feet as he slowly saw the remarkable houses that had been grouped together. Just the aura that radiated from the architecture that he had only dreamed of staying in almost persuaded him to turn around. He would never deserve anything of this magnitude. But no, he had come too far. He would talk to his sister. It had been way too long since they had been together.

As he walked up to the front steps of the comely, but grandiose household, he knocked diffidently on the intimidating doors of his sister’s abode. After some moments of anticipating a Peacekeeper coming to drag him away from a society where he didn’t belong, Anani relaxed a bit as he let out another sigh of anxiety. After cautiously looking around once more, he knocked once more on the doors with a rough, “Nisa?” Gulping rather audibly, he waited once again to see whether his sister would come out to greet him.

((So... here is my first post on these forums... This message is mostly for me to look back on it in about a year or so, just to see how far I've gotten. Also to note that it's the same day as the release of Mockingjay. I can't say it's as good as SC's work, but hopefully, this day will be a happy one for me from now on.))

[WT]

((OOC- I wrote the last 1200 words or so first (while I was on the plane and had remnants of dreams running through my head), and the first ~1150 several hours later (after I dealt with spatting relatives for about seven hours and the three-hours-of-sleep thing caught up with me). Please excuse the noticeable lack in quality in the first 1150 words. D8))


Aranica Petros forced her eyes to open and stared up at the ceiling. She still wasn’t used to white ceilings- as far back as she could remember, her usual bedrooms had involved vacant caves or a small, dark room in the back of the store she worked at- but the sight no longer terrified her into thinking that the whiteness was the sky, completely overtaken by clouds. She could look at it without thinking the clouds were right in front of her, suffocatingly close.

That didn’t keep her from knowing that the clouds were in her mind. It didn’t stop the blank surface from acting as the perfect projector screen, as images- memories and nightmares and waking fears alike- danced before her eyes. She shut her eyelids, but that just made it worse- if she closed her eyes, there was nothing to prove that the floor under her wasn’t stone and dirt or that the sheet she lay under wasn’t the Capitol-issued Arena sheet. Sounds began pouring themselves into the images, and Ara snapped her eyes open again.

Her right hand found the rock that lay next to her at all times- the little marbled acorn with its gold top. Given all she’d been through with it, the thing should have augmented the semi-nightmares, but at moments like this it was the only thing that could give her comfort. For a long moment she lay there, running her thumb around and around the rock, finding every contour and every nick and scratch that she now knew by heart. The rock murmured useless nothings, and in a little while the images faded back into the depths of her mind.

Alright, self. We have no reason to get up today, but we’re going to do it anyway. Legs first. Ara bent her knees until her feet were flat against the floor. Elbows. She propped herself up and forced her head to stay upright, rather than lolling like it wanted to go back to sleep. (She still hadn’t managed to shake the idea that sleep was a refuge, despite the hoards of nightmares that chased her almost every night. The result was a lot more sleep than she had gotten at any other time in her life.) Up now.

Her body rolled to its feet and straightened out, then stood still, waiting for instructions. Ara had recently learned that this- taking things step by step, just one simple little task at a time- was the best way to keep herself going until she was awake enough to remember why she was still going. She always had to pause here, though, so she could figure out what to do. Breakfast? No? Yes? What was today, anyway? Did she go to work today?

Medicine on your nose, the rock reminded her. It wasn’t a command from her, but her eyes responded anyway, moving toward the little brown desk in the corner. Almost everything of value (at least, value to her) sat there- an assortment of odd baubles and knick-knacks, mostly. A slinky, some pens and pencils, a bouncy ball, random things from here and there that reminded her of what life was like outside of the Arena. Her red-and-gold messenger bag was slung over the wooden chair, currently empty but ready for service. In the top drawer sat a journal that she hadn’t dared to crack open, because she didn’t feel she had the right to do so- Papero’s, given to her by his parents- and front and center on the surface of the desk sat another that she frequently opened but very rarely managed to write anything in- her own, which she had bought herself soon after returning home.

This morning, though (or at least this very moment), Ara’s polestar was a tiny jar tucked into the corner where the back and left sides of the desk met the conjunction point of two walls. She wasn’t sure how the medicine worked, but she diligently followed the instructions anyway, because it seemed to be helping- her nose had showed steady improvement, and actually looked normal this morning, although it still hurt when she touched it to test. Hold in left hand, grab lid with right, twist. Put down lid, scoop a little medicine, dab it on the nose. Close and replace the jar. Her hands moved automatically, the right acting almost as much like an automaton as the left.

Time to eat, the rock urged when it became clear that Ara was much more interested in staring fixatedly at the jar than in doing anything to sustain herself.

She jolted a little, even gave a tiny nod. "Time to eat," she agreed out loud- and didn’t move.

What’s so interesting?

Ara paused, mouth open and brain working, trying to figure out how to explain. She didn’t think she could, though, because rocks didn’t feel pain or get sick or injured- they never needed medicine. Hell, they never needed anything. As much as it loved her and she it, the twelve-year-old didn’t think she could get across the idea that sometimes she just had to look at an item and wonder if it could have been useful, if it could have saved a life, if it could have helped D-

Abruptly she turned and stalked away from the desk, her entire being kick-started into a mask of determination. You can’t go back now! she told herself as firmly as she could. Some of them gave this life to you, and some of them you stole it from, but either way if you waste it you’re killing them all over again. Get with the program, Petros!

Wrong thing to think, wrong thing to think. A flash of memory hit her- not the Arena, but just as bad in its own way. Aranica Petros of District Twelve, if you don’t get with the program and wake up this moment I swear on Dru’s memory...

Suddenly this house and everything it represented seemed suffocating, and it was all she could do to follow the right path to the front door as quickly as she could. Normally she appreciated the enclosed space (this house only had one window, and that one had blackout curtains that she could put up if she wanted, and the rooms and halls were for the most part small and narrow), but every hallway she ripped through was suddenly crowded by her wrongs. Even the sound of the ocean’s chaotic wave song seeped out of the very walls. This house yours death friends die you inherit steal life dead gone you here house yours-

She slammed into the door, and went into complete panic mode when she didn’t get through it. It took the door screaming at her (Open me, Ara! You can’t walk through wooden doors!) for her to figure out what was going on and reach out.

Come on, fingers, you can do it. Aranica closed her eyes and fumbled again for the handle, carefully keeping her right hand out of the way so that it didn’t instinctively try to help. (She usually did things like open doors with her left hand anyway, but she needed practice.) Just hang on long enough to turn. Her thumb slipped again, and though her hand turned properly, the handle remained stationary. With no great patience (the ocean-like noises were catching up to her, and she could feel the clouds trying to pound through the inner recesses of her mind), Ara reached out again, this time managing to latch on. She twisted, and her hand stayed put, pulled the handle along with its movement. A flash of relief broke through her hysteria, and she nearly cheered for it- but not just yet, because she still had to pull.

It was only the slightest of knocks, but for someone who’s used to being the only person to darken their own doorstep, any knock at all is something of a shock. In particular it was rather shocking to poor Anica, who had in the past few months developed something of an aversion to anything unexpected. The noise made her shriek, and she stumbled backwards, letting go of the doorknob as though it had just burst into flames. The world spun, and her mind screamed tidbits that she couldn’t sort out. The clouds are coming knock on the door run nowhere to run clouds found me found me get out now...! That reminded her far too much of the wall of ocean-speak waiting behind her; at any other time she might have laughed (or perhaps burst into tear), but as things stood, the cascade of thoughts just disoriented her. "Door!" she managed to yell, but even that brought on a whole new wave of disorganized thought fragments.

The front hall was really starting to sway and shift in odd ways now, and Aranica didn’t like it one bit. She also suspected to some extent that it may not be real- specifically, that the clouds lodged in her mind were trying to confuse her so the ones outside the door would have an easier time with her. She didn’t know how to fight them off, so she did the only thing she could think of: she bashed her head as hard as she could into the wall. Pain exploded, but the movement of her surroundings receded to only a slight sway, and the ocean behind her faded away, leaving the house empty once more except for her.

Now that she was once more calm, Aranica would be ready to face opening the door, except that the person on the other side of the door had just said a name that stopped her. At least, she thought it was a name. Nisa. A girl’s name, right? Kind of a familiar one, too. Maybe he (the voice was male) was saying something to someone outside, a second cloud-assassin brought to help him finish her off. Or maybe he wasn’t even a cloud, just someone who had the wrong house. These residencies were hard to mistake for any others in the District, but Arbor might have a friend named Nisa. Or something. She wasn’t sure.

Only one way to find out. "I’m not Nisa," she said as she reached out to the doorknob. She cracked open the door a tiny bit- not enough to let the outside in, but enough so she could see out. (She didn’t even notice that she had managed to open the door on the first try with her left hand; the right was busy as well, turning her acorn-shaped rock over and over in her pocket, and in any case she wasn’t exactly focused on either of them.) Her head slipped around so that she could see through the opening. "Who are-"

The sight of the other person took her breath away, stopping her speech in its tracks. Not because of his state- she saw starving people frequently in her District, and though it always pained her, it no longer surprised her. What did surprise her, to the point of erasing every other sensation in her mind, was the face.

Rock...?

I don’t know, Ara.

For a moment she just stood and stared in bewildered awe. Aranica didn’t know a lot of people in Twelve- her (very tentative) List of Living Friends consisted of an elderly woman and her fellow victor, and her acquaintances list wasn’t much longer than that. Her memory was good, but she saw so many unfamiliar faces day-to-day, both in the shop and on the street, that she generally forgot them within the day- especially now that everyone knew who she was and wanted to question her, yell at her, praise her, thank her, scold her, who knew what else.

And yet this face was familiar.

She didn’t exit, but she allowed the door to swing open. The two stood juxtaposed against each other, the older boy on the step and the younger girl in the house, one shorter and the other taller, one paler against the darker other. Different, very different- and yet the face she looked up at was all too familiar.

"Why...?" Ara’s left hand (the right was clenched tightly around her rock for stability) reached out of its own volition, gently touching shaking fingertips to the stranger’s ragged collar. She could feel it- not as well as with her other hand, but still well enough to know that there was nothing recognizable there. The hand moved, again without her permission, to flit through short hair (lighter than her own, and so much shorter, so why did it seem so familiar?) and come to a stop against his right temple, near his eye. She stared at those eyes, mouth trying to form questions that didn’t exist yet, and reached for a memory that she wasn’t completely sure she wanted. A cave- her cave- a silhouette- someone, then no one. Love, but not?

A bit of blood trickled down from the place where she’d hit and cut her forehead and into her eye, stinging it. She hadn’t known that tears were forming there, but she could feel moisture start to run down her face as the pain made them overflow. Her poor face was getting beat up, recently- the broken nose, the constant heat from tears, the scrape on her right cheek from walking into a cabinet. But that wasn’t important- right now, nothing was anywhere close to as important as the older boy on the porch in front of her.

Her hand lowered from his face, but remained outstretched, hovering on the edge of reaching out and pulling away. Just like her eyes, meeting his gaze and then skittering away before they could find anything important, anything that might hurt. Another twisted dance, like her death dance with Dru- but this time, she was pretty sure she was only dancing with herself, and she dearly hoped that no one and nothing would be dead by the end of this.

District Twelve’s victor found her voice- wavering and terrified and barely above a whisper, but still hers, and still more functional than most of the rest of her.

"Why do I know you?"

[Kevin]

Time. Time had been a trifling nuisance for him in the past. People would tell him to "wait and just give it some time." Or even, "Oh Anani, it'll be better with time. Just keep waiting patiently." Even his father... his father had told him that all would be better with time... that time would repair everything... His mother would just go away and leave their family alone... Leave whatever he had left of a family alone... It was a futile lie, of course. Time had repaired nothing. His father had promised him a family with time, and the antithesis had happened. In reality, he had lost both his parents, and almost his sister as well. With this, he had ultimately learned that time was not a panacea. Nothing was a panacea. Life was never easy like that.

Anani was standing there at one of the most magniloquent doors he had ever glimpsed in his poor life, and he didn't have a chance to marvel at it's presence. Time had come again to bother him as he heard his voice calling out his sister's name echo throughout his head over and over again in an undulating fashion. Nisa... Nisa... Nisa...

The seconds ticked by as Anani blankly stared at the door with mixed emotions. He couldn't even tell whether it was fear, anxiety or even joy. Whatever it was, it fueled the thumping heart within his chest as waiting grew that much more painful. He brushed his arm across his forehead to wipe the imaginary sweat that seeped through his pores. What was he going to say to her? Was he just going to pitifully ask for forgiveness? If so, what would happen if she just ignored him or worse, told him to just go away? And as these thoughts flew through his mind, a tiny voice was heard from behind the immense psychological barrier of the door.

"I’m not Nisa." Anani cringed as he heard his sister voice in person... the same voice he had tried to ignore and forget for many years. She was right there, behind that door. There was no going back this time. His sister had lived through the Hunger Games and she deserved a loving brother. And love her, he did.

The door made a tiny creak as it moved a tiny bit to show the eyes of the nightmares he had had for the past years. He had barely picked up his sister's question on asking who it was, but she was stopped short when their eyes met. If he wasn't nervous before, he was indeed nervous now as the door swung wide open to reveal his sister's entire figure. They both stood there examining each other and Anani was surprised that she recognized him. To him, it was evident as their eyes locked that she did remember him. His sister had remembered him. He sighed silently as he rejoiced at that small victory that replaced his preeminent fears. But that came crashing down with one word.

"Why...?"

Why?... Why did I leave her? Why am I a terrible brother? Why wasn't I here earlier? Why wasn't I there to protect her?! I don't know, why didn't I do any of these things?! Guilt rose once again and he shuddered under it's tremendous influence. She had recognized him... but why was she asking why?

And before he could apologize or do anything to redeem his past wrongs, her artificial left hand reached out to touch the collar of his worn down shirt. Anani reminded himself to breathe as his sister's hand traveled to his hair down to his right temple. The touch was pleasant, yet extremely painful. It physically felt good, the sensation of someone else's hand running through your hair as the two temperatures meshed, but it hurt him. Was she comforting him? Was that a sign of forgiveness?

Even with those questions, Anani was even more troubled by the fact that it was her artificial hand touching him. It felt almost real... like her old hand would have felt, but it wasn't the real thing. And it was his fault. He could have prevented her from losing her arm, he could have protected her from the grips of the Capital, or even the cruel grips of District 12 life. He could have run away with her, or have lived a life in the wild until they were both over 18... But no, that wasn't how reality worked out to be. He hadn't protected her and she had lost her arm. How would he ever be able respect himself again, even if Nisa did forgive him?

He noticed her gaze turning away form his own occasionally as if she was worried or afraid of looking him into his eyes. Should he comfort her? Envelop her in a hug? Ask her what she meant by why? As Nisa's hand left his face and hung in mid-air between them, Anani felt the traces of the warm touch of her hand burning into his temple. And then without him even having to ask any questions himself, his sister answered them all as she finished her question.

"Why do I know you?"

Realization came crashing down upon him as it first did when he realized that his sister was alive and in the 55th Hunger Games. She had not fully recognized him. She wasn't asking why he had left her at all. She didn't even know that she had a brother. It was just as Anani had feared... near the end, before Nisa had disappeared, she had started to forget him... and now she had almost completely forgotten him... Anani looked at her in bewilderment as he bunched his right hand into a fist.

What am I going to do now? Just turn back and leave? Try to remind her of a past life she can't even remember? Why... why does she know me?... Because I'm her brother... her good for nothing brother... No. Just tell her... Just tell her...

As Anani took a deep sigh, he relaxed his right hand from its bunched up position and once again stared into her eyes. As the words clung to his taut and arid throat, he managed to sputter out a couple words.

"Nisa... I'm... I'm... your brother. I'm Anani... can't... you remember?..." As he examined his face for any signs of recognition, he noticed the tears and blood coming from a cut on her forehead and he noticed the other miscellaneous bruises which included her crooked nose. With another look of astonishment (seeing how he had not seen these wounds when he had seen her on TV when she was returning from the Games), he took two steps closer that separated them and gently used the back of his index finger and middle finger to wipe off the blood and tears that fell from his sister's eyes.

"I... I won't blame you if you can't remember me... I've done some terrible things in the past and it caused you to go through so much pain... I'm... I'm sorry." As he got that off his chest, he quickly gave his sister a hug, as embarrassed as he was by this sudden random outburst. After realizing that it might seem extremely strange to a twelve year old girl that a random older guy came to her footsteps to give her a hug, Anani let go over her and took a couple steps back.

"I can... I can explain everything, Nisa. I can help you remember again, remember our past. I can tell you about our parents, and I can tell you about why our lives are so messed up like this. I'm so sorry that you had to go through the Games... but I'm... I'm... glad that you won. I never had anybody else in the world but you, but I gave that away at one point... Just please, let me explain. I'm not going to hurt you anymore." Continuing to debate with himself on whether he was telling the truth or not, Anani gave a firm mental affirmative. He had decided he was telling the truth. He wasn't going to hurt his sister anymore. He'd be there for her, whenever she needed him. Even though she wouldn't have any trouble with taking care of herself, especially with the wealth she earned from the Games, he could be there as a companion, as a family. The family that was supposed to be.

This time, as he turned his gaze once again towards her eyes, it was his turn to brush his hand through her hair. Gently as possible, Anani raised his hand slightly and swept part of her front hair to the side and gave it a slight ruffle before retracting his hand. With a beat-up and worn smile, he continued to gaze at her, as if he waited for her reaction. Before she could speak, Anani quickly said one last thing.

"Forgive me, Nisa... just let me make it up to you by being the family you've always needed."

"Forever, I promise."

[WT]

You used to think that it was so easy
You used to say that it was so easy
But you're tryin'
You're tryin' now

I used to dream about having a brother, but I don’t think he ever really existed.

For Aranica, the world used to make sense- or at least, it did to her. Anyone else would probably say she came from another universe and was still trying to live there, but that was okay, because she knew that wherever she was, it was her universe. Who cared if people thought her hinges weren’t all aligned correctly? Who cared if the gaps in her memory outrivaled what she could remember? She didn’t need them, because she had the world itself as her cynosure- rocks and trees and air as guides and companions. Life was tough sometimes, particularly when it came to finances, but she did okay, and she was happy.

Then she was reaped, and the reality that everyone else knew came crashing down on her- and then some. Not enough to erase the way she had learned to exist, but enough to teach her some things. That there are better- and worse- ways to live (but not necessarily better for you). That people don’t always stay away from you because you’re odd, and that you can come to love them beyond the generic love you harbour for the entire world. That it’s possible to kill these people that you learn to care for. That it’s possible to not die when you not only should do so, but want to. That no matter what they say- even if they mean it!- everyone you know will leave you soon enough.

Above all (and worst of all), that the human heart can bear many, many things- everything, in fact, but the memory of happiness, your own and that of others.

How often had she wondered about that in the innumerable hours since she’d been hauled, literally kicking and screaming, from the Arena? Those holes in her memory- what did they mean? How happy had she once been? Happier than the times she remembered? She couldn’t imagine such a thing, but she couldn’t think of any other reason her mind would have blotted them out. How painful would it be, if she ever managed to dredge them out of the murky depths of her mind? Would her lack of a family hurt more, or less?

She wasn’t sure if she should even try. She had, in fact, largely avoided the issue, just in case. It wasn’t like there weren’t other memories to keep her busy- memories of oceans and islands, of people she’d loved and killed. It wasn’t like she didn’t have a life to be trying to get through, or future tributes she’d have to try and look after.

But the past had caught up with her anyway- standing on her doorstep, speaking words that Aranica couldn’t wrap her mind around, stepping forward, brushing its hand across her face. Her left hand, still extended partway across the canyon that time had carved between the two, coiled back in toward her chest, then reached up to catch the fingers before they went away. Her own fingers curled only halfway (synthetic nerves and real ones didn’t quite match up, and the signals for clutch didn’t all make it across this time). Suddenly terrified that his fingers would move away, she pressed them against her cheek, trapping his hand between her own and her face. "Anani," she murmured, and closed her eyes in an effort to remember. "I don’t..." Her voice caught as vague images started to flicker- the same pictures that had surfaced before in her dreams, but had never stuck around. "I can’t tell." She squeezed her eyes shut. "I can’t..." Was it him? Had she been right? Did the faces match?

The fingers slipped away, and Anica’s eyes snapped open, searching in a panic. He hadn’t left, had he? This wasn’t another dream? But no, he was still there, still speaking, and this time his voice was vibrating through her because he was holding her against him. A tiny, pitiful sound escaped Aranica as she closed her eyes and pressed herself into him. Her right hand remained at her side, but the left slipped from her face, nestling between them with the fingers curled toward her heart. If it stayed like that, maybe she could press the words into her heart, and pull them back out with some kind of recognition attached. How could he have done anything to her if she didn’t even know him? But how could she not know him, and still recognize him? Those faces, the ones that had always been lurking in the lower registers of her memory, were slowly becoming more solid than they’d ever been. Everything was still hazy and incorporeal, but if she closed her eyes and looked closely, maybe, just maybe...

Fear kept her eyes open.

Anani (she still couldn’t decide if that name rang any bells) pulled out of the embrace and stepped back. Aranica stumbled a little- she’d been leaning toward him, and the sudden absence of his mass to counteract the incline almost caused her to fall. Gravity righted itself and her body- and the twelve-year-old promptly thanked it by almost falling in the other direction when it clicked that he was going away. Where was he going? Why was he leaving-?

He stopped after just a few steps, and Anica just bit back a sigh of relief. She fought back every other impulse to move or speak, too, petrified that anything she did would chase him off. This stranger was disconcerting, but a bit of her had reached out and wrapped itself around the two of them. If he went away now, while things were still so confusing, what...?

Nisa. Nisa... Shaking hands pulled the rock out of her pocket and fastened its chain around Aranica’s neck. The left dropped to her side, and the right went back to clutching her friend. She couldn’t bring herself to speak, but it was impossible not to, so she pushed a tendril of thought toward the necklace, praying that it would understand. Rock... why does he say it’s messed up? My life is normal. Was normal. Is he normal? I’m not, but I used to think I was. I guess I was wrong... Perceptive as ever, the rock didn’t answer; it listened well, letting her pour her commentary into it, but didn’t try to divert her attention from Anani by interrupting either of the humans. Why is he glad? I wasn’t. But Dru was... and Argent wanted me to win. He loves me. Why does he love me. Did I love him, before... before whatever happened?

He reached toward her again, moving hair she hadn’t noticed was in her face and ruffling the long side strands. Ara hesitantly inched forward. As soon as his hand left her she erased the remaining distance, clutching him in the tightest embrace she could manage with one and a half functional arms. "Then why did you leave to begin with?" she whispered, pressing the side of her head against his shoulder. The words surprised her a little, because she didn’t entirely understand them and hadn’t a clue where they’d come from, but she kept talking anyway. Obviously her tongue knew more about what was going on than she did. "People- say forever- but... they leave. Dru did, and everyone else did. The only friends who’ve stayed are Ms. Clarise and Arbor, and they’re going to leave eventually, too." (If Arbor was even her friend- she thought he was, but she didn’t really have a right to presume he thought so. Still, he was about the closest she had right now.) "And you... you did, too. Already. Before. You and... someone else. The man in the rain. Someone took him away, and you... I don’t..." Tears overwhelmed her eyes again, and several moments passed before she could speak through sobs, and through recognition of an ache she’d never noticed- a wound that kept bleeding and bleeding through the years because there had never been enough substance for it to patch itself. "Anani, why don’t I remember? Why did you go away and let me forget?"

Another year and then you'll be happy
Just one more year and then you'll be happy
But you're cryin'
You're cryin' now

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