Open}} Blindness

[cinder]

VERITAS INLUSTRAT

She spoke words that bounced off of my mind like tiny rocks being thrown at the eternally shut windows of my second story window. Speaking of those windows, I turned my eyes in the general direction of them as sudden, harsh light filtered into my room. "Mom!" I groaned, generally displeased by the sudden change from hazy black to white. Today was a bad day, a blind day. My head throbbed and everything about the world seemed harder and sharper than usual. My mother stopped opening all of the windows in time to turn herself toward me, speaking more meaningless words about what a pretty view we had outside that very window, and how I should always have my windows partially open to allow light to come in during the predawn hours. Apparently it helps the human body to wake up naturally, feeling rested and cheerful.

I highly doubted this scientific tid-bit would ever help me. I was going blind and my god-awful mother, the observer, the god damned scientist hadn't even guessed it yet. I supposed she had the excuse of being of a different discipline, but still, it frustrated me to know that in a District filled to the brim with geniuses and wannabe Einsteins, nobody had pieced together the puzzle that was my failing eyesight. I supposed only one person was guessing at the obvious, a friendly librarian down at the local high school. He had kindly explained a few reasons why a teenager might develop blindness. I had heard his words quiet well, my hearing had been getting better and better recently, but had I listened to him? No sirry. The second something about a congenital cornucopia, or cornea I think, was mentioned, my mind shut down.

My polite nods and seemingly focused eyes must have convinced him I was just super dandy. I, Ani Tilee, was not found out that day--about a year ago. Sometimes I marvel at the stupidity of humans, but then I remember how lucky and coincidental it was that just about a month after that initial librarian talk session, I was taken advantage of and never to see the insides of that fine learning institution ever again. "...have you taken a look at that marine biology book I brought you home, Ani? I'm sick of you begging me for books then just tossing them around your room..." I registered the nonsensical things my mother was telling me now, put on my Serious Poker Face and let my eyes drop to the floor as though these words shamed me.

Truth be told, they did make me feel ashamed, so dirty, like a lying, cheating thief. It hurt me to think about all those hardcover, wonderfully bound books mom get bringing home for me. I was expected to read one a week, and by eighteen have chosen a scientific specialty for the rest of my life. Problem was, I could no longer read for long amounts of time, only short bouts of vision when my head stopped pounding and the colorful splotches that got in the way of my sight receded for a few moments. Usually this happened during the most inconvenient, uninteresting moments of my life, of course. Like I really needed to see the disappointed frowns on the faces of my mom, dad and Madden as they watched me fiddle with my dinner. I hated eating these days, it just gave me headaches, and dealing with the ever-watching eyes of Madden, the Biologist Wannabe, was uncomfortable. If anybody was going to figure out my secret, I had a feeling it would be him.

My mom finally left, but not before tossing a few bitter, venomous words over the shoulder of her prissy, white lab coat. I watched the sound of the door closing, turned my head in the direction of my bedroom door and jumped as it slammed. Jesu! Actions speak louder than words for normal people, but when all I have are words and feelings, they shout. Being mostly blind was teaching me that, at the least.

Tears trickled down my face, spilling out of my slate-blue eyes. It seemed that's all they were good for now, I couldn't see anything but at least I could bawl my eyes out daily. It was a small comfort to me, knowing that underneath it all I still cared enough to cry over my pathetic life. It was a lucky thing too, for if my eyes had not provided me with those stinging drops of water, I'm pretty sure I would have clawed them out by now. I still want to, but I get so scared to think about my cheeks being dry and wrinkled with premature age and stoicity. And by the way, I have not been working on acting like I can still see for the past year just to rip my own eyes out and confirm everybody's shapeless, shadowy suspicious of what they see. Not really the way I want to go out. I'll admit it has a certain dramatic quality that would put the annual Hunger Games scandals to shame, but I can imagine what they would all say. Vividly, I can imagine it. Hey--my ears are like a dogs now, If I listen closely and actually pay attention I can hear the whispered words my brother and his cutesy girlfriend share when she sneaks into his room while our parents are out. Blame it on the thin walls or something. I try not to pay attention when she comes around, because sometimes I learn things I'd rather not know about.

Wiping at my eyes, I throw my legs over the side of my cot. Feet feel the cool floor of my attic-like bedroom chamber, searching for my open-toed sandals I prefer during the summer months. My sense of direction and touch have been improving lately, I can almost feel the staticky energy of the shoes before my toes truly touch them. I slip my feet into them, lean down and grab the robe I keep next to them. I can only imagine what I look like now, a weakling in a robe two sizes too large with big, sad eyes and thinning brown hair. Gross, much? At least I don't have to face myself, see all those shadows crawling under my skin. I have a lot of them, ever after that man the neighbor did what he did, things have not been right. I'm almost happy I can't look myself in the eyes anymore. Mirrors are just cool, smooth surfaces under my sensitive fingertips now. Nothing like the windows to the soul that they used to be. Its a sappy thing to think, y'know, its not like District Six is known for our creative poets or anything, but even thinking those words soothes me.

Only now I'm realizing that I'm totally frazzled. That window-opening experience woke me with a jolt. Ani Tilee does not like light. I can't stand knowing my window is open for all the scummy, tiny bugs and spiders to crawl in through. Then there are the bigger predators who don't stop at just giving me a minuscule bite on the arm or leg. I'm paralyzed momentarily by The Fear that comes along when I think of the events of my fifteenth year on earth. What happened again? Oh yeah, I was raped, my eye-sight started to seriously fail and I found out a few more secrets than I care to keep. Most of them having to do with things far more dangerous and deadly than what I myself had to deal with. Trying having a friend with cancer and a dad whose been cheating on his beloved wife for three years. It totally sucks, actually don't try it. My conditions haven't turned me into a completely heartless sadist yet, I would not wish my life or even my sparse company on even the worst of people except rapists and murderers. They can go ahead and claw their eyes out for all I care.

I shake my head, feel my way over to my closet and grab some easy-to-reach leggings and a long, frumpy t-shirt. A few minutes later I'm sitting on the ground, having managed to tangle myself up in the clothes. I feel for tags, make sure everything is on the right way and run my hands over my own body. The shirt does nothing to amplify my once impressive-now-a-hot-mess of a chest, but it doesn't hurt. Not like I care, nobody, really, truly nobody will be catching sight of me today. I run a brush through my hair after spending awhile getting up and downstairs to the cramped bathroom Madden and I share. A splash of water and some soap and I'm out of the house, one hand pressed to the side of my house as I walk out into the garden. Dad likes to hang out here most mornings, I suspect Ill find him weeding or something, then need to make some lame-arse excuse for not helping him. Something grips at my heart and I half wish my dad has already left for work while the other side of my mind wishes he's still here and ready to offer me a nice, big hug. Mom and dad usually leave for work around this time, eightish or so in the morning. Its a weekend so Madden is home from school. He'll stick around till noon, then walk me over to this woman down the street, something flowery like Miss Petunia or whatever. She likes to baby-sit me sometimes to make sure the poor deary is alright.

People don't leave me alone anymore. I'm not sure whether or not its for my own safety against the neighbor or because they suspect Ill hurl myself out the second story window if I'm left alone to long, but I enjoy the flowery woman's company. Sometimes she reads to me. It's a backwards system, having the old lady read to the seemingly normal, healthy teenage girl but I assume Miss Flowery Lady is a mom, she's like to care for me. I stop right before the garden, listening to soft footsteps over crunching leaves. There's a frown on my once cute face before I even know whats going on. Then I catch sight of a figure, through the foggy haze of my mind. My eyes squint and I back up a step or two. There's a stranger in the garden.

SERVA ME, SERVA BOTE

[/b]

[Skylar]

I sat on my bed, legs bent with a book on my thighs, head stuck in a downward position so that no matter what was happening around me, I wouldn't budge. Each letter ripped off the pages and flew into my eyes.

I absorbed every word.

Plate tectonics, how they worked, what they did, what caused them, why they caused earthquakes. It was all there in my mind and now even more stuff was cramping into my brain and sitting next to each other, shoulder to shoulder. Some holding hands. The ones that were holding hands were the ones that were all linked together, and the ones that weren't were the ones that didn't have anything to do with each other. And there were also ones that sat on separate sides of my brain. Those were the ones that were conflicted and didn't work together at all.

It was weird though, because they all linked together in some sort of way, so when I came across one of those conflicted tidbits of information, I'd have to tell both of them that they had to work together in some sort of way, or life wouldn't even possible. Either that, or the Earth would just be different.

I had been moved on to reading another book, and it was then that I began to feel Mother Earth's stomach growl. It started in my stomach, and moved outwards until I saw the whole room shake. Vases were thrown across the room, their sounds making the klinkity klank crash sound that glass makes while breaking, and so were all the precious trinkets that I had worked on my whole life. There was Mr. Lightbulb, who generated his own electricity by having a candy inserted into his mouth, and there was Drewd, who was a very thin robot that moved to sound of my voice. Oh what am I kidding, they were only things that I thought of while dreami-

Wait. This was a dream.

And I woke up after I saw a dresser falling on top of me. A "Holy shit!" was all I could manage as I woke up, and light zoomed in through the windows and hit me right in my forehead. The smell of, what was it, pancakes? Yeah, pancakes flew all up in my nose holes and almost made me have a fit of rhinotillexomania. It was a bad habit, really. Who wants to stick their fingers up their nose just to get a little yellow ball of solidified snot out? It confused me, but as confusing and disgusting as it was, it didn't and doesn't stop me from doing it every once in a while. I mean, I think it's safe to say that everyone has done it once before. Unless you have your arms cut off or you're not able to stick your finger up your nose.

I found myself wandering down the stairs and sticking my nose out to follow the smell. It wasn't like I didn't know where the kitchen was, it just, made me quite delusional. Pancakes were a treat in my house, and an unusual occurrence. And the other unusual occurrence was the lack of parents in the house. There were pancakes on the counter, steaming with heat, a small tub of butter adjacent to it. Oh they were so tempting, but at the time, I thought that finding my parents was just a tad bit more important (really just my mom, dad was at work).

I did the usual thing that people with lost parents do. The calling of the names, the checking behind doors and in cabinets, and then the freak out after they couldn't find them.

I took my time to sit down, and think things through. The last time that I could remember being awake was the night before, so it was clearly in the morning. It was a Sunday, so mom was off of work and dad was at work, and no special events were happening that I knew of.

Screw it.

I took nothing with me, and I stepped outside of my house and began to wander. Names flew from my mouth. "Terri! Teresa! Mom! Momma! Mommy! Where are youuuuu?" I made myself look a fool.

Apparently I had traveled a while?

"Hi,", I said to the girl in front of me.

[[ooc: I really do suck at Role Playing. <33 Bye.

[cinder]

VERITAS INLUSTRAT

The stranger speaks, he says one word simply, innocently. Only now do I realize his footsteps did not make the same noises as the neighbor, that this is a complete stranger, harmless enough at the moment. He's even making small talk, really, really small talk. I strain my ears, trying to listen for the full shabang, name, age, reason for being in my garden and all, but he offers up nothing but a quick word. Good. I don't think my mind would have registered any words longer than that simple two letter, one syllable statement. My logical side tells me this boy is nothing to worry about yet, and that he is a boy. Probably only a year or two older than myself, judging by the way his voice hitches at the end. Ah, good, 'ol teenage boys. They certainly do make it easy to distinguish the difference between full grown, rumbling men and the squeaking, cracking sounds of an adolescent.

I'm thinking about this as though the logical part of my mind was the greater half to the whole that is Anyandita Mayara Tilee. This is not true. The vibrant part of me that can call upon the forces of creativity and imagination in order to illustrate any point I wish to make has seized hold of my heart and is shaking it with all its might. My heart pounds frantically and my legs cramp up with the need to run away. I am easy prey, even a younger boy than this one could overcome me and do whatever he pleased. I don't think I have the will-power to stop anybody if they try to pull a neighborish move on me, my voice is locked up tightly in my throat and I feel like my breathing is being constricted by a boa. When you've been to Hell and back, you realized that little things like self-preservation and instinct do not matter as much as they once did.

Its not exactly the knowledge that you're going to be okay no matter what that keeps you from panicking. I sure as Hell know that if things had taken a turn for the worst and this garden variety boy (no pun intended) had instead been my neighbor, I would have given up immediately, realized that death was in my immediate future, by some persons or another's hands. When you were sent to Hell in a hand basket, somehow bore the pain and made it out relatively unscathed, you find yourself eager for an excuse to submit. I'm too much of a coward to kill myself, I'm not brave enough to fight for my life and for an instant I feel it deep in my being, a twisting knot.

I wish this boy was here to kill me so I no longer have to deal with the migraines that accompany my life in general. Wow, my symptoms of depression are worsening, I think idly, truthfully, knowing that these words are absolutely honest. I'm not prepared to go on living, my person is not equipped to handle this torturous business of going through life-motions. I would like nothing more than to curl up in a small ball and rock myself into an eternal sleep in some corner or other. Right now I know the boy must be assessing me. I can't be sure what he looks like, or what he thinks of me but from what my senses gather, he's not the dangerous time. Coming in peace and all that crabbola.

A sigh builds up, but I swallow it down with some effort. I have to go through the motions of a normal conversation. I drop my glassy blues to the ground, playing the part of a coy girl too shy to meet this guys eyes. Even if he's the most hideous boy in the world, he will not question this. He will think I looked at him and thought him cute, this stranger has already sorted me into a group of people in his head. New acquaintance, absolutely normal, female, sixteen. So many easy labels you can just slap on me. It would make keeping mental records easy, and in a District of logic-minded scientists, believe me, there is a lot of mental filing of information going on. Myself? I preferred and always will prefer to go with the flow. Better to use my smarts for something productive, like studying, instead of wasting energy on thoughts regarding people I do not wish to get to know.

"Uh..."

Only now I realize I have had my mouth opened in an impersonation of a slack-jawed idiot, an extremely appealing noise being emitted as my thoughts speed on. "Hi, are you okay?" I finally say, asking a generic question that seems to fit most situations. I suppose if I were normal, I would care about his reasons for being in my small backyard, but right now I'm just trying to get him away. Talking to people makes me squirm. I haven't met a stranger in months, long, harsh months of talking with my eyes cast downward and an approximation of guilt written across my face. Suddenly I'm ready to feel my way back into my house, close the window-shutters and fall back into a deep sleep until Madden wakes me and escorts me to the floral womans house for a day of "fun" spent with another "girl."

In my life being read out of a science book by an old lady counts as a fun day out with a girlfriend. It sucks, it really does. I feel wetness trickling from the corner of one of my eyes, write it off as a product of my insomnia and lack of sleep. Wiping a hand across my face, I turn away from the stranger for a second. It doesn't matter anyways, I can hear him facing the other direction as well as I can hear him face-on. There is nothing for me here. My father has left me for work, my eye sight has blurred down to the ability to tell the difference between daytime and night.

My name is Ani Tilee and I have been abandoned by all of those who claimed to care about me. I have been used and abused, and I have finally come to realize what I already knew. As I think the words, I slouch over in defeat, a whoosh of air I had been unknowingly holding in suddenly being exhaled. Ani Tilee, the survivor, the strong one has finally forsaken all of her hopes and dreams. Knowing this to be the truth, inconvenient as it is, but still the truth, I feel strength I did not know I had. At the same time I understand this to be a sign, a push toward something unknown. I now know I'm ready to turn around and face the general area of reality.

I can't know for sure what reality is and where it's at. I can only turn my blind eyes back to the sound of the boys mouth making words, and guess that this is the only path I'll be offered. I'm completely, utterly alone and I'm stuck on this destructive path that leaves me feeling waves of exhaustion at the idea of having to talk to this boy for longer than five minutes. I don't want to deal with a simple conversation anymore, but even so--well, my sense of humor is unfailing and I find my mouth twitching upward in an almost smile as a final thought enters my head.
Kill me, now, strange boy?
Hey, its better that suffering this thing called life.

SERVA ME, SERVA BOTE

ooc- its okay Sky, that was a pretty shabby second post with Ani ever on my part too.

[Skylar]

The more I thought about it, the more I realized just how messed up the day was getting to be. A dream about an earthquake, a missing mom with a steaming plate of pancakes, and a trip to a strangers garden. It.. was to say the least, interesting, if not frightening at just how strange this had came to be. The plants in the garden seemed to snap at my feet, crawl up my legs, pull me down, eat my insides, just consume me. If I were the least bit as intelligent as I thought I was, I would have already turned around and been on my way. But since I hadn't, and all I looked at now was the piercing blue eyes of a girl, I seemed to want to collapse from from lumps of nervousness and fear that were weighing me down so much.

Normally, in a situation like this, I would've already turned my back and went on my way at the least, if not say something better than a two letter word with one syllable that never ceased to make me feel younger than I was or make my voice crack. I was a social person, but when it came down to a missing mom, chilling pancakes, and a stranger's garden, I seemed to take on a whole different personality.

There was a moment of silence. An awkward one, before she finally spoke up. And truly, I heard nothing she said, but I acted as if I did, with a nod of my head and squeaky little yeah.

Those eyes, they were just, surreal. Like, they saw into my soul. Little did I know that they couldn't really see anything. I had learned of being blind before, and how it effected the iris. I mean, I should've noticed from the start, as I've took many courses on eyesight and ophthalmology and stuff like that, but I guess I could use the excuse about earthquakes and moms to cover up my loss of thought.

She... smiled. It was a creepy sorta smile. One that tore your little bravery button out of your chest and stomped on it. The one thing it did do though, was heighten my sense of fear. I wasn't frozen anymore, or at least trapped in a little bubble, I was frightened to the point of taking off and running, but for some reason, that just didn't seem like the right thing to do.

So I said hello again.

[cinder]

Ani Tilee.

On an awkward-making-situation-scale, the garden invader rates a ten. He is intelligent, I can feel that at least, but he's certainly not being very helpful. My senses stretch out to meet him, I've even taken a few steps in his direction, but there are no audible noises to help me understand the inner-workings of this person. Eyes have always been my windows to the soul. Now that I’ve gone off the deep end and lost my sight, I can't watch him, can’t taste the flavor of his soul with my eyeballs. As far as I'm concerned, he doesn't have any eyes or a soul by any rate. Maybe I’m the last of the true humans with souls and goodness and stuff. Maybe I should just give up, is my Debbie Downer thought point.

Still, I'm trying to make do with what I have, which are four perfectly fine senses and a world of people to use them on. My ears strain to catch the soft shuffling of his feet and at the same time I am balling up my fists as nimble fingers stretch out, wanting to touch him for myself. Next to sound, touch is my most useful sense. Having a heightened ability to smell my rank, teenage brother or my filthy, musty room has been nothing nice. Then there’s taste, but unless I’m planning on sampling each of my new aquintances by sticking my tongue down their throat and ah, judging them by how well they respond, I really see (Get it? I’m punny!) no advantages to my heightened tasting abilities.

And seriously, no jokes on that subject. I’ve already had my fair share of disturbing male encounters, I don’t even find dirty teenage jokes funny anymore. Ani Tilee has the old lady role down pat--I’ve even felt some new wrinkles developing on my once fresh face. Its disturbing.

I tune in to hear his latest broadcast of awakwardness. It is another soft greeting, I hear the hitching, nervous break in his voice as he says hello. Honestly, people from my District have no social skills whatsoever, I think as he swallows and starts radiating uncomfortableness. I mean, just listen to our yearly Tributes on the television. They’re all complete nerds, completely incapable of getting out a sentence unless it ends on a joke pertaining to something nerdy that no Capitolites ever get. I’m guilty as charged in the geeky department, but still!

Suddenly my mood is drastically improving as I get the impression this boy is desperate. His voice is hoarse and I think my tone-dar is picking up on an edge of panic to his voice. I certainly can hear the little panting breaths he’s taking. It comforts me to know that somebody else is having a hard time with life, like hey, I’m not the only person who has been hurting this morning. There’s always a silver lining to a storm cloud. I find my eyes flitting up to the sky as I think this. I’ve managed to ‘look’ at everything but the boy. My eyes have been rolling around for the past minute or so, ‘examining’ the plants in our yard and assessing the condition of my comfy shoes. Generally they’ve been moving around nervously, making me out to be as socially inept as my present company is. I’m cool with being known as that girl, the one who can never look you in the eye. Its better than being called out by one of the many scientists lurking about this District. The longer I keep my cover, the less likely the chances of being found out are.

No punk kid who likes to traipse about strangers yards will ever, ever blow my cover as an ‘average’ citizen. It would be too barking embarrassing after all that I have gone through!

So right about now, my thoughts are running along the lines of I need to salvage this situation, and while I’m planning on charming him off of my property and out of my life, he’s probably just watching me not watching him. Yeah, that’s Ani for you, the girl who can’t get things right even after thinking it through and planning the best course of action. My mouth is making that funny ‘uhhh’ noise again while hamsters run wheels in my brain. I blink casually and lift my glassy eyes to where I believe his to be, just for a moment. It’s long enough to send shivers of distress up and down my spine.

I turn away, recoil and squeeze my fisted fingers even tighter. They’re white by now, I presume, using the powers of my intellect and common sense itself. Somehow, I don’t think thats winning me Social Charm brownie points, but it’s either I ball my hands up or I swear I’ll start crying and yelling right on the spot. Definitely not the bets of my bright ideas.

Only a second or two have passed since my daring glance in his direction. I clear my throat and shove down all my personal fears, try to swallow them whole while getting my throat used to forming words. ”I-I’m called Ani,” I tell him, half whisper it for I’ve grown to used to having a heightened sense of hearing. Sometimes I forget regular people don’t listen too hard. Gotta work on that, y’know? I’m still trying to get used to being the way I am, but when I open my mouth to speak again, I can just feel the strength in my voice. Try, try again! Practice, practice. My voice is quivering with anticipation, but it’s nothing concerning. I’m just a ditzy girl who found a complete stranger in her back yard. No, don’t mind me. Whatever you do, don’t look me in the face, I can’t take the feeling that you’re staring me down when I know I can’t return the favor. My heart-breaking burden, it crushes me.

”You’re in my ga-garden,” I shyly tell him in what does pass as a stronger voice, but still quivers and shakes like a card house in a slightly airy house. At any moment I might crack. He knows it, I know it and the world is just waiting for it to happen. My cheeks heat up with the silly feelings brewing underneath my skin. I’d almost like for this guy to figure out my deep, dark secret. Having a true friend who knows all the inner wokings of me, myself and I doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. Just once I want to be able to reach my hands up and stroke a face, to feel its texture, be close enough to smell hair gel, perfume or rank, teen spirit. I want to be able to do all of this without somebody yelling ”Ani!” like I’m a mentally disturbed patient who escaped the hospital and is now going to go on a psychotic face-touching spree.

Once again I’m half-smiling, but my lips tremble with those seven to nine stuttered words. They were not the most brilliant things to say, but then again I am no longer the brilliant girl I once was. A year of literal isolation without even the friendly words of a fascinating book to ease my days spent in bed has taken its toll. I am stupider, slower and by any rate, two-thirds the answer to ”Are you blind, deaf or dumb?!?” My sense of humor seems to be the only clever part left to Ani Mayara Tilee, that brown haired, blue eyed wit with a tendency to pull elaborate, scholarly practical jokes on unsuspecting victims. I wish I had kept my mastery of the English language, but oh well, sarcastic, snide comments never hurt anybody, right? Nice trait to have in a girl.

I smell a triple threat! Blind, belligerent and blue, I am. It seems all my thoughts come in threes, my life is just three huge issues. I was raped by a man who still lives nary two hundred feet from me, my eye-sight is going peculiar and according to my mother I’m a disrespectful, unholy thing that must be the devils spawn or something because I so did not come from her. DNA testing anyone? Might be helpful one of these days.

Blinking cautiously, I glower at a certain spot on what I believe to be the ground. My head is turned down and I am focusing quite hard on what I look at. My eyes are narrowed, I have my game face on. This is no time to moan and complain about how terrible my life is. Yes, I am depressed, snarky and completely undeserving but for now I’m just a a girl who has a few terrible secrets poking from beneath the edges of my sweater sleeves. For now, I’m on home turf and this guy is launching a full scale, offensive attack against me. Time to protect my excuse for a life. I just don’t see any other way.
No pun intended, of course.

ooc- too lazy for coding XDDD

[Skylar]

I was just about the stupidest person that ever walked the face of the planet. Of course this was a lie, because of the first people that walked the Earth and how they didn't even have language and stuff, but still, I felt an inch tall. I mean, she had piercing blue eyes, she never once looked at me in the eye, and she never showed any signs of sight, and it was all I could do to not just shout out 'YOU'RE BLIND.'

Of course I did, because with all the scary dreams and the missing mom and the pancakes and the gar- Oh! That cabbage looked ripe! Before I could do anything, I'd picked it up and threw it in the air. The way the leaves were green at the ends and faded into the white. It was just about the perfect cabbage if there ever was one. Of course, ya' know, when it fell back down, it went right through my hands and broke in half as it hit the ground. I giggled, of all things, and it took a lot to not yell out something like: 'Your cabbage just got broked.' Of course, I would never have done that if this was an average day. I usually would've been ranting about how all of this was damaging the plants and how we should've moved to a safer location that wouldn't kill any life.

But since I didn't, I just sort of stood where I was and snickered and giggled at the broken cabbage. The girl called herself Ani, and I sputtered out a, "Hi, Ani, I'm-," Snicker. "Apollo." I continued to laugh and snort and occasionally let out a string of mucus (it just happens sometimes). Eventually though, I slowed and focused. Ani said something about her garden and I just completely ignored her comment.

For some reason, I suddenly felt the need to be Mr. Love All Hippy Guy. So I started a big ole' ramble combination filled with unnecessary sentences and harmful words. "Now, Ani, I know that you're blind, and I know that you can't see anything. But don't take it as a bad thing. Ya' know, sometimes I wish I was blind, because I hate seeing everything that I see. Some people get killed, and that's always a bad thing to see. And ya' know, today, I woke up and my momma was gone. In fact, that's why I'm here. Because I was a lookin' for my momma. So, wanna hug? I wanna hug."

And I got all lovey dovey with the blind girl and squeezed her just as hard as I could. Oh, that cabbage must've been like crack to me. That's what it was called, right? Crack? I wasn't sure, but momma always told me that it was a really addicting drug back in the day. I'm gonna assume that's what it was called and go along with what I said. That cabbage was. crack.

Oh whatever. Maybe it's just that the girl was attractive. The world... DUN DUN DUN. May never know.

[cinder]

I'm fighting off the ridiculous urge to scream no! when this boy throws himself at me.

I've been found out--even my broken, fragile mind realizes this.

And the worst part is, it's that... I'm being hugged.

And to top it off, I'm absolutely sure this boy just broke one of my dads prize-winning cabbages in half. Life certainly didn't get any duller just because my eyes aren't around to see it anymore. In fact, it seems I'm not the only person with impairments, is the thought running through my head when I hear swift footsteps coming at me. My body presses against the wall of my families homely abode and then I feel myself blacking out. The light my eyes are managing to capture, a dyed yellow-red-orange surface that I sense when I'm outside in the sunlight goes dark for a moment. My body is being held by a psychopath. A psychopath.

A hysterical sob rips forth from my frail body. Whether its a delayed response to being found out or I'm suddenly bursting into tears because a guy I've never met is touching me, well I have no idea. Maybe I should just blame the tears on the loss of a perfectly healthy cabbage (the crunch of it sounded like a cabbage so I'm going to stick with my assumption that he did just waste some of my foodstuffs)

Anyways, I'm still being clung to be a complete idiot, an ugly duckling who lost its mother. My mouth sputters, I'm not sure what a sixteen year old blind girl is supposed to do with this information, especially one that has an attitude problem. I'm still pretty ticked off my this intrusion, angry enough that without even meaning to, I'm thrusting my arms up and giving a great push at Apollo's body. I want him to get off of me, I can't handle the feel of a person so close to me.

Stumbling back along the wall of the house, I scratch at the bits of skin he managed to touch like maybe Apollo has a rare disease he's just passed onto me. My fingernails rake across my own arms, stirring little droplets of a fresh, red fluid. It's my prize for all the effort I'm putting into getting this Apollo's filth off of me. "Get away from me! What are you doing?" I cry out sharply as the pain of my self-inflicted wounds reaches my head and I'm finally able to do more than just open and close my mouth in a crude impersonation of a shark.

My eyes shut and I throw my arms up to shield myself from a second attack. Breath comes in and out quickly of me quickly, I can't even muster up the strength to call for my brother. I know we only have a few thin walls between us, but he's a heavy sleeper. Even if I could scream bloody murder, the chances of drawing my neighbor out into the open is greater than the chance of waking up that perfect brother 'o' mine. I really don't want to be back here with a complete sociopath and boy who seems to have his own mental impairments. He's of average intelligent, that much I've gathered, but the goofy laughing and skin-contact seriously put me off. I'm a cynical blind girl with not a drop of innocence left in my sack of skin and bones. Sue me for thinking of the worst scenarios possible.

Blessedly my cries don't seem to have captured the attention of anyone. I'm facing this gentle giant on my own, I suppose. It could be worse than this. I still have my wits about me, my name is Ani Tilee, I was a genius for most of my life! Dealing with a lost, little boy in an overgrown body can't be too hard. Come to think about it, its a rather fortunate turn of events, this boys obvious disabilities--if he had been a normal citizen of District Six, or worse, one of my brothers friends, things could have taken a turn for the way, way, way worse.

Yeah, rape-victims tend to develop great imaginations when it comes to the gruesome. I know, I know, totally sucks--most nights I wake up from vivid memory-nightmares, cold sweat and all. Thing is that I like 'em, I like to be able to watch even a scary, god-awful time in my life, or a product of my head at the very least. In my sleeping dreams I can see everything crystal-clear. Right now I'm far from asleep (or at least I don't think I've dozed off in the garden and am now having my first blind nightmare) My body is full of redhot awareness, I'm calculating every sound Apollo makes and trying to judge what he's going to do next. There are a few perks to staying home most days, my inability to deal with people is not one of them. Especially people my own age, Ani Tilee was a nerd, not some popular Queen Bee. Circumstances just aren't in my favor, thats the truth of it.

I'm shaking and still trying to inch my way back to the front of my house, but somehow those legs of mine, they keep dropping. In a few more steps I know I'll be dragging my rear-end across the ground, perhaps I'll just collapse and never get up. It would be an easy way to just let myself go, people would shake their heads at me and cluck their tongues. Oh, that poor girl, she was too weak for this world. Her heart just shattered from fear, obviously she though this boy was here to take advantage of her! I know I'll have to take care to either scratch my eyes or close them before I give up though. No sense in my family learning of the obvious. They've gone so long living a fragile dream. I don't want them to feel even more guilt over my death, hopefully they'll feel a large sum of it, but not too much.

By the time I realize Apollo isn't here to murder me, I am in fact huddled in an Ani-sized ball of fear and emotions. My arms are leaking red, my eyes are springing clear-colored leaks and if theres green snot coming from my nose, sue me. The human body really is a colorful thing when you think about it. Not that anybody spends time flat on their back, blindly staring at the ceiling and trying to recall the colors of skin and hair and wonderful, majestic eyes. No--that would just be weird. Stranger than a teenage girl being driven into a panic by a broken cabbage, laughing boy and a Captain Obvious-esk remark on an obvious impairment.

"Whats wrong with you?" I whisper, recalling all that has happened in just a few seconds.
Well yeah, anyways.

ooc- short post DDD: compared to others

[Skylar]

My mouth formed the world's most perfect 'O' and my eyes were the size of frozen apples. The girl was absolutely the most idiotic girl there ever was. I could feel a fire starting at the bottom of my feet. Oh, how I just wanted to jump off of the hot coals and dance around from the burns. It was sort of like I was part of a transparent mold, left immovable, but when I could move again, I'd feel like jelly. The girl. Ani. She had the most horrified look on her after I'd let go. No longer was I the silly little happy-go-lucky kind of boy that was missing a mother, I was a plastered boy with a plastered expression that had tears falling from his eyes. In an instant it felt as if the air around me dropped about 20 degrees and I started shaking.

What the hell was she doing?

She muttered words, ones that I couldn't understand and this was just all wrong. There was something beneath all of this that I didn't know about that was the reason that this was happening. No, this was just all one big dream, and when I woke up, I'd wander down into the kitchen and find my mom. No, this couldn't be a dream, because just this morning I had awaken from a dream. The girl scratched at herself, to the point of bleeding. I was no disease, not one at all.

I closed my eyes, I just couldn't stand looking at this. She made little whimper-ish sounds and all I wanted to do was collapse. What did a hug ever do to someone? It wasn't like I was trying to ra- Rape. That. Was. It. I'd read it in a book once; that rape triggered drastic fear for others touching the victims that they didn't know very well. Or that they saw as unusual or strange. I did nothing but realize just how messed up, well, unfortunate, this girl was. She was blind, she had to've been raped at some point in time, and now I had just given her a hug and she was self-mutilating herself. Made me wanna get in the fetal position and self-mutilate myself.

I simply stood, taking short, exaggerated breaths, and slowly closed my mouth. I thought of a time where I had done the same thing. It was my first day of Kindergarten, and my mom would drop me off a little nursery because she had to go to work and I couldn't stay by myself. I watched her leave, watched her walk out of the door, and I felt like she would never come back. I stood, with tears forming in my eyes, and it eventually crescendoed into the sobs, the airy, gaspy type of sobs that your chest bounces with as each sob pops up. Of course, I eventually grew used to it, and it was to the point that I could look forward to going to the nursery.

All I could think of now is how I was that little 5 year old boy, sobbing, and how I had made this teenage girl do the exact same thing. She asked what I was doing, who I thought I was, and I couldn't even say anything at all. I only stood, with shaking hands, with cabbages surrounding me. Oh, I guess the symptoms of cabbage crack included silence.

[cinder]

are my eyes the coldest blue?
you said once this was true
well if it is, i don't know what i'll do.
'cause i'm stuck with them
and they're stuck on you.

The element of surprise was a startling bonus of being blind. It's just that when people know you're handicapped, when they assume you're weak and you radiate pitiful mousiness, they don't except a sudden flurry of scrambling motion and noise. I'm pretty sure I would have laughed If I'd seen the look on this boys face when suddenly I screech like a stepped-on cat and start running toward my front yard. I see things though, I remember the way home and with this killer-crazy guy on my feet, I push myself harder and faster than I have in a long time. Running used to be a pass-time of mine, after all, but then I stopped going out in the daylight, started to run at night when i felt more comfortable in my surroundings. Headaches were rare back then, blindness was an issue to deal with in the far off future. I jogged by night until that day

Things changed and my curved, muscular legs went dull and flabby. Sometimes I like to run my hands over my body, try to imagine what I look like these days. My legs are sticks, they are bones and flab--its flabbergasting how flabby and unfit I can feel when I know I look like a walking skeleton. Still, instinct kicks in and my feet are scrambling over loose dirt, fallen leaves and a few little rocks that mark my path to safety. I'm smug, I feel clever every second my foot doesn't twist and snap when I stumble over a rock or loose my grip on sanity the wall.

My leg brushes up against a cheap rose bush, the thorn cuts at my skin and I consider falling for a moment. My body freezes and my feet tangle. Sheer will power or brute luck keeps me head-up, feet-down, and in a few seconds I'm also slamming into the front door, banging on it and shouting a few nondescript words. My voice trembles with the effort and emotion that accompany being approached by a complete stranger, a strange stranger in the one place I feel safe during the daylight hours. Home, its where my heart belongs but where my mind goes black. That room, that windowless, godless room I call my own is no place to live, but I'm still drawn to the plot of land the Tilee's have lived on for years. It's a confusing love-hate relationship, similar to the one I have with my brother. My brother whose taking his sweet time getting to the door, leaving me at the mercy of a cruel teenage hands. You can do a lot with hands, he told me that, he said he'd show me sometimes, a demonstration I believe. I can't seem to place the exact time of this smoky-mirrored memory, but it's just another shard of glass to the splintered mirror of my life. All the pieces fit together, they all feel, smell , sound and taste the same but I can't see them, can't figure out whether or not that laughing child's memory comes before the one of myself with tears in my eyes and an expensive bowl of ice-cream all over the floor of a local 'keepers Shoppeh.

Right now my hands are rubbing themselves raw, scraping knuckles down the surface of a door that won't budge and my throat is equally raw from the effort of hollering for about thirty seconds straight. I finally turn my body outward, facing the way I came with a determined flare of my nostrils. My eyes are a ravishing, ravenous blue that I can feel burning into the world. You've never seen a piercing stare until a blind girl focuses on you, or at least attempts to. My eyes must be bulging as they try to piece together those shards of a glassy mirror. I'm sure I either look comical or disturbing or maybe both.

Sound ring in my ears, but my mind grows tired of the sound of my screaming voice, right now I'm reminded of his voice, the boys. It sounds vaguely familiar like a childhood lullaby or something I once heard from across the lunch room. I can only imagine what my name sounds like on his lips, but my once-visionary imagination is creative enough to spew a few random sounds I can place as this boys. I can hear him calling my name, Ani Tille. Yes, yes! I know him, I know him, I know him.

I'm so sure of it that my muscles relax and my arms, placed in front of my chest in a mockingly weak defense-position fall limp. It's crazy how quickly logic has won over the mixed feelings and suspicions of my heart. Hey, this is good! One point to logic, none to paranoia (in the end that is) My lips tremble and I'm too exhausted to fully form his name, but the shape of an A flies out and suddenly his name is silently being called. I wonder if I'll ever meet a deaf person, how comical our conversations will be. I'll silently question them and they'll offer me monotonous sounds to go by. We'd be a dull couple, what a terrible match, only a mute would be worse as far as disabilities go. The mute would gesture wildly at me, maybe spell out (how I miss reading) their name and I would fix my blind eyes on a spot near where they have gestured and we would stare each other down and I would yell and they would stomp.

My mind goes in circles for a second or two more, amusing itself before the subject of my former paranoia catches up with me, physically and mentally. I can't help but question how long it's been since I've seen this once-was boy, but it makes sense. He can't live too far from me, probably went to my school. I know him, not well, but a year ago my eyes would have registered the sight of him and placed him in the acquaintance category. While he catches up with me, my body heaves as I catch my own breath. All that running... and for nothing. What a waste of energy! After a year of stumbling around, it feels awkward to have moved so quickly. Is it possible to get car sick off yourself and minus the car? I think it is. I'm feeling sick, still quivering and still nervous but at least I'm okay, at least I'm pretty sure this once-was acquaintance isn't a bad guy.

If anything, my mind is sure of that. I could place more trust and faith into an utter stranger than I can in my own brother. "Yeah, waita go!" I growl over my shoulder, voice cracking and acting like a teenage boys. Yeah, I'm just the damaged good. I'm Ani, the blind rape-victim--mother dearest probably instructed brother dearest not to help me if I screamed. 'And what would you do about it, darling? You're too young to be taking care of your sister, just let her be pillaged again, hopefully her heart will break and we can get rid of that undead excuse for a daughter. Her room is a mess! Yes, better to be rid of her...'

Oh well, never did deny that my life is just sad.

ooc- and so is this post. DDD: Don't murder me
ugherm

[skylarversion2]

Apollo, being the genius that he wasn't, was truly confused when he didn't recognize the girl as soon as he'd seen her. Some time ago, whenever it may have been, he'd met, or at least, seen her. Whether it was at school or just a slight collision on a sidewalk, the memory of the blue-eyed girl poked at Apollo's brain. And as he ran after the girl, for whatever reason, a faint memory grew to a larger one, and the larger one grew to an even larger one, and that even larger one grew to the largest one possible, and Apollo remembered everything about the girl that he'd gathered. Ani Tilee was her name. She had brown hair and blue eyes. A year ago, she could see. Within the year that Apollo and Ani had no contact, she'd went blind. Ani was defensive, or at least she was now, and Apollo saw that as a side effect of blindness.

Soon, Ani had ran into a door. She hadn't ran straight into door, no, but Apollo could tell that Ani's handicap made her navigational skills anything less than up to par. Her hands and nails made carved patterns into the door, white with a golden handle. Of course, the handle surely was not real gold, for that was such a rarity that only the rich in the Capitol could get, but the color was enough to suggest that Ani was associated with people wealthier than most.

The sight of Ani struggling made Apollo terrified, to say the least, for the tears and screams and hope that someone would save her from himself would make anyone that wasn't mentally ill afraid that they'd did something wrong. From the earliest moments of Apollo and Ani meeting up once more, less than an hour ago, every action that Apollo had made had been the wrong move. From repeating the world hello, as if he were just another perverted teenager that wanted to get into some girl's pants, to the splitting in half of a cabbage, and the thoughts that it was an addictive drug. The next thing you say will be intelligent, uplifting, comforting, happy, cheerful, embracing, or just anything but bad. Well, anything other than any form of bad. He thought to himself quietly. Even if there was such a thing as thinking at different volumes, Apollo would say that his thoughts were quiet.

Ani eventually stopped her yelping, and with Apollo standing, arms dangling at his sides, she'd yelled, or at least, spoke loudly, "Yeah, waita go!" For a second, Apollo was caught on the grammatical error of Ani, but he understood her situation. If he was blind, and a stranger had hugged him, but with the thoughts that the hug was not a hug, and he'd had someone break a cabbage in half, and then chase after him, he'd be anything but worrying about his speech being grammatically correct.

But, with his prior thoughts in mind, he said to Ani. "Do you remember me? I think we've went to school once before."

[cinder]

I'm blind, my ears are ringing to the point that even with my superior hearing, I feel deaf, but I'm not dumb.

Now I'm piecing things together and my cheeks, usually the sallow color I've hazily glimpsed, in dream or reality I do not know, are turning red. It's a funny thing to be running from something one second, then just not. I feel like a rabbit. I'm a rabbit hearted girl, I know I should be running for my life, because that's what rabbits do but I'm also a confused girl and hearing something familiar tugs at me, makes me want to remember what living was like. I don't care if I'm in danger and my little heart might just fail, this here guy is no wolf, he's a harmless rabbit, just like me.

At least, he was a year ago.

Instincts to run battle my peeked curiosity. True to my District, I decide to stay and relax, the breath leaves my lips and I no longer yell for my brother. I'm a scientist at heart. "I remember you." It's a lame way to reintroduce myself, but secretly I'm a bit curious whether or not I really know this guy, or if he just recognizes me. I'm curious to know whether or not my goddamned friends ever tried to visit me, whether my mom, that evil woman, kept them away or whether they forgot about me. Maybe people think I'm dead. It wouldn't be too far from the truth of who I am now. Useless, I'm a waste of space sitting in an oversized coffin that my mother likes to refer to as my messy, dark dungeon room.

Bodies take up too much space, I think. Just because I'm on a death tangent now. We give them pretty boxes and velvet and stuffing. We lock up the boxes and like to spend a few days moaning. If we just forgot about the bodies in the ground and let some worms eat them, the world would prosper. I'd quite like a dress made out of velvet, and that wood could be put to use as a new door. I know I've scratched this one up with my nails, I feel the little marks like brail on a page. The stuffing could be of use too, we could make toys out of them, we could use locks to keep strangers out. Coffins. Bodies. If I ever feel like dying, I'm going to go out to an empty field and set myself on fire. But I'll take my clothes off first so I don't waste that either. And I won't eat breakfast either.

I'm halfway through planning my own death when my eyes focus for a moment and I sort of see something, I feel like I've seen the figure of the boy before me, but it's dark and light and there are no other colors. My eyelids flutter, tears gather at the corners of my eyes, the outside corners. I don't know why, my eyes have just blinked enough that the tears gather on the outside, not on the inside corners. But it's not because I'm sad. I'm desperately trying to purge myself of blindness. The wetness streaks my face all the time, my pillow is damp with shed tears. I don't cry for the right reasons, to tell the truth. I cry because I want to see and I want to feel, but I can't.

But when I saw, just for a second, radiant concern was coming from him. I stare into the dark space before me and ask, "Do you know?"

Then my muse dies because we're talking about mono in the CBox and this character is ancient so I'm all like hey... I can't remember her personality. But what the heck, go ahead and reply because it's been a month - I'll give the next reply a better try.