Digging Through The Roots [Chaos]

[∂αмєη]

When you think about all I've went through, the long journey from District 5 to District 9 may sound like it would be easy. That's what my mind was telling me. It told me that everything would be fine, that I could make it to District 9 without any injuries or any troubles. Then again, it has control of my mind. I don't want to speak about it, in fear that it will return. Return to haunt my mind and my soul for days on end. Then it leaves, allowing the emotional scars to somewhat heal. They never will heal though. They will always be there, right on my heart, and right in my mind and soul.

It was my friend to talk to during my trip though. That counts for something, does it not. I'd see a squirrel, and go to pet it. Then it came, and told me to rip it's tail from it's body, and tear the meat out with my teeth. It told me to kill, but it told me to live. Having it as the only voice I heard was different. I've always been used to having Trace or Rockie around to talk to. Until Trace got taken away to the Games. That's when I left. Now, with absolute silence, the voices I hear stand out.
"Do you think she actually did all those things though? She sounds like she'd be a weak little girl. It's probably just a bunch of lies." The girl they are talking about. She must be important or something. Maybe she did something so appauling that everybody has to talk about her. My train of thought is broken when an arrow hits the tree beside me. My body flies behind the tree, using it as cover.
"I thought I saw something. I'll go check it out." Instincts of survival kick in. I spin around the tree placing my hand around the shaft of the arrow, just in time to lunge at the man. It's returned. I am falling to the control of it. The beast, the monster inside. My dark side. The other man raises a gun, and takes a shot, missing my head by inches. I grin, revealing sharp teeth. I dive forward, and wrap my hands around his neck, easily suffocating him. My hands pat him down, and locate a sharp hunting knife. This should be perfect. My feet carry me towards the fence, and I slip through a small doorway which the Peacekeepers must have used. This is easier than I thought. It's District 9, I know that much. It smells like blood and death. Hunting would do that. There is almost nobody on the stone streets, so I'm easily able to sneak through the alleys.
"Are you going to see the girl? The girl who went to jail? She apparently was there for sleeping with an underage girl." That girl. That's my sister! I burst out from the alleyway.
"If you don't want me to pull your guts out, and feed them to the wolves, you will tell me where this girl is." Yeah, that's right bitches. The taller one points in a direction, and I'm running before she can say anything.

It doesn't take too long to get to a dark alleyway. I know it's the right place, because it's where I'd go to hang around. She is my sister, shouldn't we have some similar likes? There is a building way at the end that has it's lights on, and I can recognize it as a club. I've seen only one in my life, but it scared me, so I avoided it from then on. This club though, it could hold my sister. I need to go in, even if it means sneaking in. That is what I do is it not? Go against the rules. My shoes make no noise on the stone as I run towards the club. There is a large man standing out front, and I know exactly what I have to do. An alley shows up on my left, and I run down it. It's occupied, only by smokers and drunk homeless men. They won't care what I'm doing. My backpack zips open with ease, and I pull out the only clean clothes I have. The buttons are all undone. My current shirt slips off, and I throw the clean one around my shoulders, and then button it up, allowing my cleavage to be shown as much as possible. I wonder if the smokers saw me remove my shirt. That would be a site, wouldn't it. Next is my skirt. I yank it up high, making myself look as appealing as possible. My hair doesn't need to be fixed. It's messy, and looks like I just left an encounter with a rough gentleman. Yeah, that will be my story. Sounds like something an older woman would do. Right? I leave the alley, and turn left to head back towards the club. The man sees me, and then stands out of the way, allowing me entrance. That was easier than I thought. As soon as I open the door, the music starts. The pounding in my ears hurts, and within seconds, it leaves. I see her though. A girl. She brings back memories, even though I never saw my sister. Something feels right about her though. Something special. So I know it's her.
"Tammy?"

-OOC: So the color thing failed, and just looks like a mess, not awesome. So, from now on, Dark Fire is just bolded and italicized Light Fire (:-

[sadniss everdeen]

The past few days had been rough. I don't honestly know how we managed to recover from this latest disaster, but we did. Kaya's memory returned and she somehow forgave me for eating her father (despite how much of a scumbag he was) while he still drew breath. Wounds like that can't easily be mended, but I like to thing we will come out of this stronger than how we were. Trig is still terrified of me - though that's honestly not my problem - so both redhead's are home alone tonight. Perhaps he can be made to see the other side of this puzzle, the one that isn't absolutely insane?

Strangulation hadn't been good to me. It took at least a week for me to once again struggle control over my vocal chords; they once gave away completely and I went into a fit of horror because my voice wouldn't come forth. Weeks have now passed since my turbulent return from prison, and I'm pleased to say that after fourteen days of feeling helpless and lazy I'm well on the way to recovery. Muscles are once again outlined against my arms and stomach, though nowhere near as strong as they used to be. I'm still sick, there's no doubt. But my ribs have healed and I don't struggle for breath all that much anymore. Two more weeks at best, and I'll be right back up where I used to be. It's cause for high morale and celebration.

Which is why I'm sitting at this club with my feet up and a vodka bottle in hand, grinning along with buddies who I lost touch with over my month's stint in jail. Kaya insisted that she wanted to stay with Trig for the night - and who am I to deny family bonding? - so I left alone, and for the first time in a while, will come back alone. They joke that she's got me whipped and I roll my eyes, but I know it's true. Somehow, I don't mind all that much.

Pulsing bodies and thrumming music cloud my senses a little, which is why I didn't immediately notice the tap on the shoulder. However, I couldn't help but hear a single word uttered from a stranger, that instantly made my eyes take on a dangerous shade and my friends stop laughing at the expression I showed. They knew it well, it was 'somebody is going to get hurt'. Yellow flashing angrily, I spin in my seat and pull myself up to my full six foot two height, glaring down at whoever had the guts to speak the name that is forbidden. I've buried that past a long time ago (Kaya the only exception) and I really don't appreciate others waltzing in and screwing it all up.

"Tammy?"

The culprit is at least half a foot shorter than me, yet her stance is curious. Wide eyed and young, she couldn't be older than sixteen - though the short skirt and ample cleavage suggests she used her body to gain access to the club. Smart. Rusty hair that reminds me way too much of a certain man that's currently six feet under, contrasting vividly against the pale white flesh. Though if the light shines in a certain direction I see scars much like my own criss-crossing her snowy skin, whispering of a life that was far from perfect. I pull my lips back over my teeth to reveal nubile bone that gleams sticky bright in the stygian darkness, a warning. A low rumbling growl starts at the base of my chest to make my body vibrate, eyes narrowing to slits as I size her up. What business does she have with a ghost?

"You have some balls to come in here saying that name, girl." I hiss, voice dangerously low. "Tammy's been dead for a long time, and will stay that way. I don't even know how you know her, and I personally don't care. But you don't say it again, or else I might have to result to some... unpleasantness." The space seems to drop in temperature as my tone becomes quiet and silky, firm and clear in its meaning.

Teach her a lesson. It'll stop her from getting ideas. Elegant brows furrow in annoyance as I give a slight shake of the head, as if it will cast the monster away. While I know it won't work, it's better than just standing there listening to it. Dignifying it with an answer just makes it more vocal.

She appears bewildered and a little bit confused. Her lips draw in with concentration as she glances up at me through mixed lashes, puzzlement in her gaze. "But you're Tammy. You're my--"

Sucking in a deep breath I place one hand on her shoulder to perhaps escort her to the door, but a sudden movement takes me by surprise. Quick and precise I'm not sure if it was simply instinct or a drilled response, but her fist comes up and pegs me square in the right cheekbone. Since I'm blinded on that side I couldn't react in time, and my head snaps back as a foot seeks balance behind me. There is a muted intake of breath from my friends as she draws back her arm, clearly uncertain as to why she did that and what's going to happen now. Slowly, I bring my head back into a neutral position, fixing her with an unreadable gaze. Again I draw back my lips, but this time the low growl is a horrible snarl; raw and guttural, slipping from my mouth like a creature aching to break free. Though the noise seethes anger, my voice is eerily cold, though you can detect a hint of anger in its depths.

"Fine." I rumble, my fingers curling to form loose claws. "Maybe I'll add to that wound collection of yours."

Drawing upon whatever skill I have I lash out with a hand, knuckles connecting solidly with her face. She reels backwards and grasps her flesh - but her expression changes into something strange. Sinister. While my expression stays neutral, a grim gleams deep in the crevices of my mind.

Again she hits me and I bound backwards so that her fist just grazes my face. Hooking her, I raise an eyebrow when she raises an arm to deflect and kicks me in the shin. Seems she knows what she's doing. Going in for an uppercut a smirk twists my lips as at last second I flip my arm and unclench my hand, nails raking painfully across the skin of her cheek. Blood is drawn, and I plunge headfirst into the fight.

We dance across the floor; trading blows and words. She's quite good but I have both height and weight on her, giving my blows more impact. Melting away from her, I flit back to deliver a knee that glances her side. Whoever she is probably didn't come looking for a fight tonight if her outfit is any indication, but I find that I'm having fun. And... I'm intrigued by the positively switched personality on her face. It even seems slightly evil. My musing is interrupted as she lands one in my solar plexus, making my breath whistle out of me. Still it throws her off balance; my years of being a swordsmaster alerts me to a gap in her concentration. Not even registering the dull throb in my healing ribs I throw out a vicious roundhouse with my right leg, allowing a satisfied smile as a crack echoes when it connects with her temple. She staggers, disoriented, and I grab her by the collar, shoving her to the far room where there are far less people.

Roughly I slam her against the wall, an arm across her throat and a knee between her legs incase she decides to fight back again. But from the slightly glassy look in her eyes I believe I've gotten her good. Still, it's nice that she's got me breathing heavily. The girl's better than I thought. "What do you want?" I hiss, voice like velvet. "My patience wears thin."

[∂αмєη]

Oh how I wish it wasn't my sister standing before me. Her words are like knives, slicing across my heart. She doesn't actually know who she is? Or she doesn't actually know who I am? Either one of them makes me feel like cracking, and falling into a million pieces. But I didn't come here just to see her. I traveled through the forest to be with her, and I'll do whatever it takes.

My fingers gather inwards, creating a fist, which then swings upwards, landing a hit square on her right cheekbone. She appears to stagger for a bit, and then recovers, something that only a trained fighter would know how to do. Why did I do that? It was going to happen anyways. She would've killed me. I could sense it. Assuming does nothing but make an ass out of you and me. Now it just made an ass out of her. Shut up! You know I'm right! It did feel good. To see her stagger back. To see the shock register on her beautiful face. Apologize! She might fight back, and I can tell she is trained at fighting. You don't know a thing about fighting.

When her hand comes towards my face, my first instinct is to run grab it and remove it from it's owner. My expression must look pretty sinister. Good. Let's put some fear into her black heart. My hand goes towards her again, and grazes her face. Her eyebrow seems to raise in confusion. That's right bitch - She's your sister! That's right bitch, I can fight. We continue this, getting in our own hits. When she does something, my mind reacts, blocking it, keeping me safe. I lash out, and she does the same. She has the upper hand though. She is taller, older, and obviously better trained than I. I could still win.

Everything seems to slow down as her leg gets closer to my face. I try and move, but IT keeps me there. IT, is right here. IT can hear what you are saying. IT can get you killed instead of protect you. Tammy's foot contacts my temple, and I stagger back. I hear a crack, and my hands instinctively go to it's location. Pain is all I can feel, but before I can stop to cry or complain, Tammy has me by the collar, and is pulling me into the back room. Normally, this would be a treat for me, something I always hoped some of the girls around the District would do to me. But no, nobody felt the same way I did.

She throws me up against the wall, which I barely feel. My head is hurting too much. Her leg bumps mine, and I realize it's between my legs. Once again, something I'd normally enjoy the thought of. But not now. Not when she is ready to kill.

"What do you want? My patience wears thin." She hisses. The bitch needs to hold her horses. If she wasn't busy kicking my head in, I could've already had the story explained.
"Listen. Tammy," I begin, but a dirty look from her means she doesn't like something. "Listen. Miss. My name is Ember Crystal Corazon. I come from District 5. Well, at least for the last 16 years of my life."
Something tells me she doesn't actually give a shit. Well too bad. I came all this way to say this.
"I lived here, even though it was for a few hours. Tammy, or whatever your name is. I'm a Cooper. I'm your sister."

[sadniss everdeen]

I'm pretty sure my blank gaze showcases my confusion, staring uncomprehendingly at the younger girl against the wall. Sister? Hell is she talking about? She doesn't look a thing like me! Isn't the red hair enough confirmation of that? Kander has red hair. Glare. Growl. Ignore.

"Listen here, kid. I've worked very hard for the past six years to forget I even had a family. Now you come in here and claim you're my long lost sister of whom I've never even heard of?" The disbelief is clear in my tone, an eyebrow arching over my clouded eye. Is she drunk? She doesn't look drunk. Still, she says she comes from District Five. Trace's District. The though of the large boy sends a faint pang through my heart; I remember when he fell in the arena. All I can really remember is his lips against my skin, drawing blood away from my veins. His bitemark throbs sometimes when I think of him.

The thoughts are shaken away and I focus once more on the teenager. Though Five and Nine are relatively close, it's still a harrowing journey for a single person. Especially for one that doesn't know how to hunt unlike the residents of Nine. I don't realize that my leg has steadily started increasing pressure between her thighs until her body shifts from the weight, toes barely touching the ground. A humming starts from the back of my throat, examining her closely. Perhaps I'll give her the benifit of the doubt? Usually it's the most screwed up stories that are real.

With a whistling sigh I let go of her, drawing my leg back and taking my forearm from her throat. "You're probably, what, sixteen? A thought dawns on me and I groan, furiously rubbing my face with one hand. "Kander's age. Of course, it has to somehow relate to fucking Kander." See, it could be real. Don't discount it. I roll my eyes but stare at the newcomer.

"I'm not even going to ask how you found me. But, I'm going to ask you why. I've had nothing to do with your life." A fleeting thought that perhaps she's just as batshit insane as I am. The notion is comforting, but I regard her innocent eyes and pale skin and wonder what could be hiding under the surface. Maybe I'll play along for now, but I'm not going back to my family. I've shut them off from my life a long time ago. The moment they handed me off to the doctors, they were gone forever. We all know Kander is their favourite anyway.

Without warning I turn on my heel and stride back towards the bar. Throwing money on the table I ignore the inquisitive gazes of passerby as I beckon the strange girl to the front, nodding at the bouncer. Not even bothering to see if she follows, I break out into the night, inhaling sharply at the drastic contrast of cold air against my skin. Ribs begin to throb slightly but are ignored. I debate going back home but the last thing I need is to bring home potential trouble to my redhead.

Ember, this is Kaya. My girlfriend. Kaya, this is Ember. She's potentially my sister. Yeah, that would go over well.

If she really is related to me, there's a fair chance she's inherited a form of insanity. While probably not as severe as mine, it could be prominent. Perhaps I can draw it out of hiding... but that requires answers which I can't draw from thin air. I'm sure that with time and patience I could easily procure the information from the Sewers, but I have neither to devote currently. Which means we might indeed have to pay a visit. With a sigh I glance at the girl from the corner of my working eye, wondering why in the nine hells I'm doing this for her.

"I'd like you to meet some people..."

[/size][/blockquote]

OOC: Sorry for the fail length. I'll do better next time.

[∂αмєη]

I couldn't even answer her questions, because I didn't even know the answers. I still don't know why I'm here, trying to reconnect with my sister. Neither of us cared about each other's existence for the past 16 years. It was just an instinct really. Something I needed to do.

Maybe it was to bring me here. I find myself looking at the door to my father's house. My mind would always create this situation, and I'd be pleasured with the outcome in every case. He would be dead, and I'd be laughing triumphantly. I'm hoping it actually happens. That my dreams and hopes come true. The door slowly swings open, after we knocked, and it shows darkness. Then, a man walks out. He's definately not what I imagined. He's actually somewhat attractive. Coming from a girl who doesn't like any guy, and would prefer to spend the night with a gorgeous lady, it means alot. He seems to recognize Tammy. Well, of course he'd recognize his daughter.
"You must be one of the new girlfriends." He says. I feel like crying. My father doesn't even recognize me. It is coming. The beast. It's approaching. I place my hands on my father's chest, pushing him into the house. He trips backwards, and I grin when a crack sounds. My hand goes to his throat, and I squeeze as hard as I can.
"I'm your daughter you dick. The one you sent away. Now, I'm going to have fun sending you away." I laugh uncontrollably, and push myself to my feet. My father shuffles back, right against the wall.
"So. This can be the easy way, or the hard way daddy. Who am I?" The corners of my mouth pull up, forming a grin. It takes a minute for the look in his eyes to register. He truly doesn't remember me? I walk quickly to him, and then lean down. With steady hands, I grip onto his head, and smash it back against the wall. A groan escapes his lip.
"Shh. Father. Let's not disturb my twin Kander," At the word twin, his eyes grow wide, and he looks at me with fear. "That's right. I'm the one you sent off. The one that lived with another family for 16 years. I truly believed my name was Ember Rowgan for a bit. Who am I!?"
His hands fly up to his mouth, covering them. I nod. This will have to be done the hard way. What attracts my eye first can do that. My hand reaches out for the large pliers, and my grin becomes bigger.
"You have three guesses as to what I will cut off first. Actually, better than that, you tell me what I want to know. Being a good boy won't make me sew them back on either." It registers in his mind, and his hands fly to his groin area. Bingo. Quickly, I move the pliers closer.
"Fine! We didn't want to have to deal with another daughter like her! We sent you away." I'm enraged immediately. Why did he put emphasis on her. What had Tammy done? Better yet, what did he do with her? "Next Question. What did you do to her and what did Tammy do to you?"

[sadniss everdeen]

My eyebrows steadily raise in a mix of confusion and amusement as she backs him violently up against the wall, his head making impact with a loud crack that sends shivers of twisted delight up my spine. He's just so scared and the expression... well, if I want to be truthful, it turns me on.

But just ever so slightly.

I allow myself a slight scowl as he spits out the reason for her departure. To be honest and despite how much I've tried to chide myself, I don't think I've really gotten over the years of abandonment that my parents created. Sure, maybe I don't give them enough credit. But as my illness became more and more apparent, him and mother grew exhausted. Embarrassed. And eventually, they just gave up and stopped trying. If there's one thing I won't forgive them for no matter what they do now, it's giving me up to the doctors with the white coats and scary eyes; leaving me in their hands that smelt of anasthetic and death. Maybe if they hadn't sent Ember away I would've had somebody that understands, and wouldn't have ended up so filthyfilthyfilth--

I jerk my head angrily to the side, shaking to try and dislodge those thoughts. Where the hell had they come from? A turn to the monster shows it is silent - I only have blame for myself. What...?

he patter of feet down the stairs interrupts my thoughts, and I glance up to see him running to us. When the bright shock of red hair comes into view my first feeling is a shot of incoherent rage, still prominent from our childhood. "What the fu-" But he is interrupted by Ember, growling and brandishing pliers with eyes like the deepest dark of insanity - hey, I can see the family resemblance now! - over Father's shivering frame. His eyes instantly fly to the pliers and he attempts to reach out for a weapon, anything, but it evades him. He's the picturesque model of tired confusion with his hair sticking up every which way and the wide eyed expression on his square, handsome features.

A slight frown at the way her next sentence is worded. What did I do to them? The list could go on and on... Still, in the pause that awaits a response I leisurely push myself off the doorway, uncrossing my arms from under my chest. The movement draws both attentions over to me, and their eyes darken in disbelief, hatred and rage. Kander's gaze wanders as he looks at me, obvious who I am despite the six years we've been apart. "You..." He hisses, fists clenched in fury, veins popping from underneath his skin. While we might be related our frames are the complete opposite; I'm lithe and acrobatic while he's hulking and thick. While everybody in this room has pale, pale skin and red hair I have tanned flesh and inky locks. Taken after mother. Nobody's quite sure where my height came from but it suits me fine, I don't have any urge to resemble family.

"Hello, little brother. My voice is quiet and smooth, with a hint of a smirk curling my lips. Slowly I walk over so that I'm merely a few feet away from him and standing next to the trembling man that's tried to draw himself up to his full height. Pitiful. With a quick snap my knee impacts his jaw and sends him sliding down the wall, whimpering. There's a sharp intake of breath and I raise gleaming eyes to hateful counterparts, my mouth twisted into a barbed grin.

It's a well known fact that Kander worships the very ground my father walks on, practically a carbon copy of him. Apparently to the people he cares about he's a sweet, loving man; too bad I never got to see that side of him. Though if I want to be honest I'm not complaining, we never got along... with or without the monster involved. "Is this a new whore? I thought you were with that slut Kaya." An instant pull of protective anger washes over me and I expose straight, sharp teeth that gleam cruelly in the lowlight. "Kaya is anything but a slut." I snarl angrily, taking a step towards him. "But no, this is Ember. Your sister." There's a moment of stunned silence as he stares at the crumpled man and the crazed redhead. Suddenly he starts laughing; deep, shaking things that make an eyebrow arch in mild confusion. Has he gone off the deep end?

"You, you expect me to believe that this bitch is my sister? She's threatening Dad with a pair of pliers, for God's sake!" Suddenly that fact seemed to bring him down to Earth and he glares at both of us. "Always the dramatic one, Tammy. I'm going to bring down all of the Keeper force down on your ass." My foot lashes out and catches him on the edge of the jaw, sending him spinning to the floor. My foot throbs from the rough impact but I refuse to show it, instead grinding my heel into the side of his head and forcing his skin deeper into the old wooden flooring. "You should know by now not to call me that, Kander." I hiss, but something dawns on me. With a humming noise I enjoy the way he flails under my grasp, absently shoving his nose into the ground so hard there is a quiet snap. He howls. "My name is Flight now. Tammy died when you were nine."

Still, I roll him over and deliver a cripple blow to his solar plexus. Kander flops like a fish out of water and a saccharine smile alights my face as I turn to the elder man. He scrambles back in fear but I grip him by the collar and lift him up, heaving with a grunt to shove him forcefully down in the chair. "Time to play Truth or Dare, daddy dearest." I sing, snaring ducttape out of the cabinet and binding his arms behind his back and to the chair. After a moment's deliberation I laboriously haul Kander's writhing form and tie him thick to the other, opposite chair. "Every truthful answer will result in no pain. Any false or vague ones will make me and Ember taking turns daring each other which appendage to cut off first." A level gaze.

"And despite my preferences that you've damned me for, I won't hesitate to touch and cut what you hold dear."

[∂αмєη]

A grin spreads across my face. Perhaps the reason why I came all this way was to find a girl who may be similar to me. To find somebody who is as screwed in the head as I. Now, with this beautiful figure standing before me, I know I found what I wanted. This girl, Tammy, or Flight as she said earlier, is all that I've ever needed. Somebody that can help me feel like I belong, even if it's against their will. Perhaps, I could make it that way. My feet carry me over to a nearby table, and I pickup a long hunting knife. This will be my torture weapon. It fits nicely in the palm of my hand, but then again, so does any weapon. It's just natural. As I turn around to face the two men, I clear my throat.
"Alright. First question. This is for you daddy. Why did you send me away? To District 5?" Approaching him, I ready my knife.

"I already told you! We didn't want to deal with another girl who could turn out like you!" He spits out the last word, sneering at Tam-Flight. I'd snap, I know that much. So, I quickly move on to the next question, hoping to keep my sister calm.
"Kander. This one's for you. Where is this bitch mother of mine?" The corners of my mouth go upwards, showing the sharp teeth beneath. He hesitates, and then buries his face into his shirt. I'm guessing he won't be talking. This makes me grin more. So, as I walk closer to his chair, I hum, and slightly skip. "Where to begin? I want to save these boys for last. So-" Without warning, I stab the blade at his wrist, and sever it with ease. It smacks against the ground, and then goes completely still. The blood begins to pour out now. It spurts out of his severed limb, and the room is filled with his screams. "Well, we can't have you screaming, can we?" With little effort, I bend his arm, redirecting the stream of blood into his mouth. It takes a few moments for it to register in his eyes, and by that time, he is already choking on his own blood. I turn, and leave him. He won't die, but he won't be screaming.

"Do you want the same thing to happen to you daddy? Answer the damn question." I say, pressing the bloody knife against his wrist. A little trickle of his blood drips off. Shows how sharp this blade is. I might just keep it, to remind me of this experience.
"The bitch ran off with a District 5 man whore." I perk up at the mention of District 5. That's where I was sent. Then, thoughts are pouring into my mind.

---

It was a normal day in District 5. The sun was up, peering down on all our animals and citizens. It was a beautiful day, a day that I would usually spend in the fields. So, that's what I did. It took a few minutes to get to the edge of the field, and another few minutes for me to get to my favourite spot. It would be a nice day, had there never been that shiver.

A cold feeling covered my body, and I froze in my spot. I was skipping around in a circle, while singing a short song they taught the kids at school. Now, with the shivers covering my body, I couldn't sing or skip. All I could do was stand. Somebody was watching me. I could feel the eyes that were focused on my back.

I was never a fast runner until that day. Instead of minutes, it took seconds to get to the edge of the field, and another few to get home. It was one of the scariest moments of my young life, and I never forgot the feeling that I had felt.

---

My mind pulls me back to reality, with only one thought formed in my head. That was my mother. She always was there, watching that I was safe. Why couldn't she have said something?! Why couldn't she have revealed herself!? Anger flares up, and I let out a loud scream, while bringing the knife down. It enters my father's leg, giving him reason to scream too. "Shut the fuck up!" I yank the knife back out, and glare at him. I'm not done with my questions. Hell no.
"Why did you keep this pompous ass over me? Am I really his twin, and her sister?" I point at Flight. He answers the questions immediately.
"Kander is a boy. We thought he wouldn't be insane. We were right too. And yes, you were his twin. You were born moments before, but when we saw a boy, we got rid of you, to save ourselves the hell of raising another bitch." If stabbing him didn't mean winning a scream which could attract Peacekeepers, I'd do it non-stop. I'd plant the knife in his neck, and pull his skin inside out. Then, I'd make Kander eat every last piece of him, only to give him to the authorities. But there are always more questions, and answers needed.

"Your turn sis."



-OOC: Sorry if you think I took all the questions. Flight can still ask about her past, right? And, from now on, I think I'm just going to stay un-bolded. It looks too messy xD I'll figure out some way to make it dark and light. Maybe []'s.

[sadniss everdeen]

For the whole time I remain silent, watching them with critical eyes. I don't even flinch as Kander's hand drops to the floor with a sick thud and his screams turn ear-shattering, nor do I feel a pinprick of pity. Father has made some deals with the rather unsavory people of the Capitol; I'm sure my dear brother can get a new hand no problem. Blood gushes from his limb and I saunter over and slap ducttape around the stump, yanking it tight to halt the flow. We don't want him dying on us, now do we? A backhand that sounds like a crack of thunder - I've grown tired of his voice - silences his cries to pathetic whimpers. "I'm not insane, exactly."I start, eyes flashing dangerously and lips lifting in a way I manage to make sinister despite the innocent intentions. "I don't know. I didn't stick around the institution long enough to hear their eventual diagnosis." Pause. Turn. "Ember, you didn't really miss much. Entertain them for a moment, I want to get something."

Descending into the dank basement I can still hear Kander's pitiful whining like a dying animal as I shoulder open the door to father's study. Things are as I remember it; bookshelf on the left, map on the right, desk in front. And, of course, a safe underneath stacks of paper. It doesn't take me long to pick the rusty lock and it swings open, revealing piles upon piles of tapes. Snaring a handful and one that caught my eye, I trudge back upstairs and place them on the living table. With a determined expression I grab the backs of the chairs and pull, dragging them in front of the television. My brother is still too out of it to care but the other one knows as his eyes find the evil black recordings.

His mouth opens and closes a few times, and I grin which prompts a murmuring from the hole of deepest dark inside my chest and the monster creeps into my eyes, ugly and strong and so very angry. It watches the man that ruined my life even before they sent me away, and I lick my lips as the ghosts of his hands appear on my flesh. I no longer trust my voice and instead slap one tape into the old VCR, watching the grainy, handheld images flicker to life.

---

It starts out simple enough. Him fiddling with the device to see how it works, grunting in triumph when it actually turns on. A whitewashed room with very little distinguished markings, coupled with a painted window that lets nothing filter through into the airless space. A single fluorescent bulb hums to life to illuminate the scared child that's sitting cross-legged on the floor. Her hair is in pigtails with the chestnut locks falling down her shoulders - she can't be older than nine - and a school uniform with the skirt riding up her thighs. The camera zooms in on her face and she looks up with wet eyes, wiping in vain at her face.

"If you do what we say, we'll let you go. Okay?" She nods and shifts uncomfortably on the hard tile, and again his voice floats into the room. "Good. Now, what's your name?" The child sniffs but replies, her tone wavering in fear. "Cindy..." The camera shifts slightly and zooms out to reveal all of her now, barely catching the end of the buzzing light. "Well, Cindy. I'm going to have to ask you to take off your shirt." Cindy whimpers and squirms, shuffling backwards, away from the camera. But the space is tight and she can't get far enough away from the zoom feature, and it scans in between her legs when her heels dig into the concrete floor. "Cindy, I don't want to hurt you. But we will if you don't do what you're told. Bad girls get hurt." Hesitantly her fingers grasp the buttons of her uniform, popping the clasps one by one. It falls away to reveal a flat, childish stomach covered nothing but her arms that she wraps around herself, shivering. The poor thing looks terrified but all the color drains from her face - presumably from a look that he gave her offscreen - and slowly uncurls her arms, tears slipping down her soft cheeks....

.....

She's now naked and standing in front of the room, whipping her head back and forth as things happen away from our view. There is a shuffling and a large man appears in the screen, advancing slowly on her. Cindy backs up into a corner but there's nowhere to go and whimpers as he grabs her by the arm. "Now, you've been a good girl and we'll let you go. But you still have to do one more thing..." She cries out as the large man lifts her high into the air and slams her down on the ground, knocking all the air out of her fragile body and rendering her momentarily stunned.

The camera moves quickly and is now level with her and the man, stilling as it touches the floor. Again the disembodied voice floats out from behind the lens, full of thick lust and sinister intent. "You know what to do." The big muscle smirks and pins down the young girl's wrists with one hand, reaching for his pants with the other. As they come off she must understand to an extent what's happening because she tries desperately to twist away. "Mmm, slowly. There we go..."

Her screams echo against the concrete prison.

---

For a moment I stare as the picture dissolves into static, before I slide carefully blank eyes trembling with concealed rage to his pale face. With meticulous care I take the video and pull it out of the VCR, laying it almost gently on the table. "You always liked the little girls, didn't you, daddy?" It is rhetorical and he's not supposed to respond; it's a good thing he doesn't because I think I would've run the knife through him right there. Even Kander is staring, speechless at the now black screen. My fingers curl into shaking fists that slam into the wall beside the older man's head, splintering drywall and making him flinch violently. "All those videos of them." A wide gesture at just a handful of those sinister things sitting pretty on the wooden table. "Because the Capitol likes their little ones, don't they? I grab another one at random and shove it in, fully intending him to watch another. But the altogether different setting makes my alarm go off inside my head, even as the scene unfolds.

---

It is quiet; nothing but the whispering of the floorboards as they creak under the cameraholder's weight alerts the world that any presence is inside. It is the top floor of a small house, the lens swings right as the man begins padding down the hallway. A seemingly random door is pushed open - the clock tells the watcher it is past midnight - and a bed is revealed. Moonlight shines down onto a pool of shiny ink black hair, shielding the person's face from view. Female, roughly ten or eleven years old. She mumbles in her sleep and turns over, blankets slipping off to show a flat caramel stomach that rises gently in sleep. The view shivers in excitement as the device is attached to something - a shoulder holster, perhaps? - and two hands are now visible, detached from body.

As the man's body climbs on the bed the girl stirs, twitching in the realm between wakefulness and dream. A rough hand goes to carress the bulge shown in the edges of view, and another slides up the cotton of her top, touching the smooth skin hidden underneath. At this she wakes up, legs flying up on instinct to push off the intruder. He grasps her ankles with powerful arms and spreads them apart, shoving his body into the hole between her legs to gain power. A strange noise halfway through an enraged shout and a scared whimper escapes her throat as slender hands come up to his chest to push him off; but they are swiftly pinned above her head.

"Now now, be a good girl." His words are dripping with want and sadistic lust as leather cuffs appear from nowhere and are slapped onto her wrists and then to the railings of her bed. She writhes in her holds and her hips buck wildly in an attempt to get away but he is stronger, and her efforts in vain. "What the-- get off!" She growls, her voice not yet broken into adulthood yet far from a child's. But her shorts are yanked down to expose glistening skin and he sucks in a violent breath, hands going upupup underneath her shirt. She cringes violently and the chains rattle; yet don't break. Trapped.

Moonlight pours into the window to illuminate her face, stark with rage and fear to make bright golden eyes glow in the lowlight---

---

Oh god, not this. Anything but this. I remember that night.

---

as a zipper is pulled down with a decided hiss and the lens begins to rock in time with him. She cries out in pain and wraps her legs around his waist to try and push him off, but there isn't enough leverage. "Stop! Stop, it hurts." But it isn't the crying that a newly non-virgin would make and instead just the one that wasn't prepared for what just happened, and you're struck with the certainty that it's happened before. Another hand comes to muffle her cries and her struggles only grow more intense, arching against his disgusting hold...

---

Dead silence as the tape finishes, and I struggle to hold in the monster as I feel the pain between my thighs and the rough touches like it was yesterday that he snuck into my room. Instead I turn burning eyes to him and reveal shiny teeth, shaking in fury as a hand sinks into the fragile flesh of his throat. "You liked to fuck me, didn't you?" My eyes have constricted so that you can barely see the pupil, face contorted into a picturesque feline mask of hatred as gleaming sharpness pokes promising from my mouth. "It started out with little touches, but soon it turned to that." My fist curls tighter, he gasps for air.

"Tell me, what did you do for money once your prized star was gone?"

[∂αмєη]

Pain is a world that my mind constantly likes to visit. Perhaps for moments, and maybe for years. Each visit gives me a souvenir, whether it's something visible, or something deeper than that. Something that makes you feel pity, and sadness when you hear of it. I was accustomed to the world, after being through so much harm. But nothing prepared me for this. Nothing prepared me for what I saw on the screen. Part of me wanted to go up and comfort my sister. That part was always nicer. The other part wished to walk up to my father, and tear his stupid head off.

"You are one sick fuck aren't you?" I say through closed teeth. It's cold. Even I feel fearful for what I might do. The knife tightens in my hand, and it takes all my strength to stay rooted on the spot. Even then, I can feel my feet sliding across the cold ground. "You deserve nothing more than pain right now. So much pain that you will feel it for years and years. And every time you look upon the scars from the pain, you will remember me, and remember what you did wrong." Never has so much anger filled my mind. Blood starts dripping down my arm, and I know I have a really tight grip on the knife.

"Now, I'm going to count to five. By the end, I want to know if you know of anymore "actions" being done." The numbers begin to roll off my tongue. Cold air crosses my body, pulling my mind away from my body. Thoughts of my childhood flooded my brain. Trace Rowgan and I climbing onto the roof of the barn at the age of 13. Him falling back, and breaking his arm. My "mother" counting down, begging me to get off the roof. It reminds me of this moment. Pain was somehow involved. When the numbers counted down, something serious would happen. Or, it could be handled in the middle of the counting. The pain could be avoided.
"5." I lunged forward, clutching the knife tightly. It sliced across his leg, and the stench of blood filled my throat. I can't say it didn't smell bad, but it also didn't smell too good either. All it did was push me forward, making me dig the blade deeper. Then, as fast as it started, the cutting ended. A thump responded, and then loud screams. It took a minute to discover the source of the screams. My father's mouth was wide open, along with his eyes, with now stared at the blood pouring from his leg and groin. There, resting carefully on the ground, lays the leg and groin of my father.
"You don't answer the questions, you get cut."