A Glare In the Night [Shrimpy, closed]

[Hayley]

The water spreads out in circles as my toe hits it. The circles keep spreading until they just stop, and then I have to splash the water again. This is such a repetitive game; I only play it with myself. Splish splish splash. I only have to barely disturb the water for its peaceful waves to be interrupted. Sometimes I just like to watch the waves lap over my feet. Its calming. I need that sometimes. I need a form of peace to my life.,

Peace is something I've never had. Even when things are calm, that doesn't necessarily mean that they're peaceful. Calm is just people ignoring the chaos that's really going on. Its ignorance of a sort. Ignorance is bliss, right? Peace is just... knowing that everything is fine with the world. Peace is being able to walk down the street without a care. Peace is having a calm state of mind, but having the feeling that you're not just ignoring everything. You know for a fact that you don't have any problems. I need peace desperately. Hell, I'll even settle for calm.,

I spin around on the dock and shake the water off of my feet. Even though its still winter-like, I slip sandals over my small feet. Its starting to get like spring, but just barely. Apparently I didn't know that the change hadn't happened yet. All I came out in today was a black tank top and cut-off jean shorts. Yeah, everybody thinks I'm crazy. So what? Ever since I came back from the Detention Center, I stopped caring what people thought. Oh, that's the little girl that got shipped off to the jail. Do you think she's dangerous? Mommy, that girl is glaring at me! Ugh, people need to get their own lives and stay out of my business. Its not like I cared what people thought about me in the first place, but now its even more so.,

You want to know what I've been thinking about since I got back? Love. Legasp! You're Hayley! The word "love" isn't even allowed to cross your mind unless its followed by a groan! Oh well, deal with it. Don't ask me how it came up. Real!Hayley put it in my head. Hush. Whatever. Don't "whatever" me! I'll "whatever" you all I want. I'm older. Yeah, but you don't act it. ...Shut up. Mmhmm. That's what I thought.

Great, now she made me lose my train of thought! You were talking about love. ...Oh. Anyway, the little girl in my cell kind of made me think about it. When I was in there, she was always nice to me even though I was obnoxious to her. Its not like I can control how obnoxious I come off to other people, though. But then I started to think; I haven't liked anyone, let alone loved, in probably five years. My parents ignore me, so they're not much cause for loving. My one friend disappeared weeks ago, and I'm not sure what happened to him. I'm pretty alone.,

Standing up, I pull my shorts from their rumpled position and straighten out my shirt. My long legs begin to carry me into the square. I think that's where I was supposed to be going in the first place, but I got distracted. Dad probably wanted me to go check on his workers or something. Pfft, like that's actually going to happen. I think I'll go buy random stuff just to waste their money.,



"One," I say quickly. The woman behind the counter hands me a mug of steaming coffee. I set down three of my coins on the wooden counter of her stall. "Have a nice day," she replies with a smile. "Don't tell me what to do," I growl. With my last remark, I walk away from the stand over to a wall to lean against. God, I hate this place. It smells like fish and seafood 24/7. Then again, the entire district smells that way. Its just that all those smells are concentrated here. I'd rather be down at the beach, wading in the water.,

As I stand there, I take a deep breath, inhaling all the smells around me. Good grief, that was a bad idea! The scent is just a mixture of fish, clams, rotten fruit, and random items. I roll my eyes and take a sip of my coffee. The warm liquid flows down my throat and warms my entire body. I needed that; I was freezing a little bit. Again, I contemplate my clothing choice.,

The sun is high in the sky. It seems to be beaming straight down on me, which is good. My lips touch the rim of the coffee mug again as I look out into the masses. It seems like I'm getting shorter everyday, even though I'm seventeen and 5 foot 11. All the guys at school seem to be taller than me now, even though I've been Gigantor since Grade Four. Sometimes I just like to look out and see the people: I like to see what commonalities they have. For instance, today I'll count all the people with blonde hair. I don't have natural blonde hair, just streaks from the sunlight. Its mostly a mishmosh of different shades of brown.,

From what I've learned, blonde people are idiots. Some people say that's just a stereotype, but I beg to differ. I remember this one guy I met, but his name still eludes me. Anyway, we met one night, it was pouring down buckets. He was yelling at the sky or something, but then I ran into him and we cracked one of the steps of the Training Center. Long story short, we fell out of a vent and all was good with the world. Well, for him at least. I got sent to the Detention Center. How they traced it back to me, I'll never know. He was there too! We were both missing that night. Life's not fair, you know. It kind of sucks.,

So as I'm standing here, I see a blonde kid, probably about my age and a little bit taller that. He actually looks kind of cool with his shaggy blonde hair. But then he turns his head a bit and I realize who it is. The kid. The kid who was in the vent system with me that night. Gosh, what was his name?! Hunter? Bah, whatever. Rage fills my chest and all I want to do is punch something... or someone. I set the cup in my hands down on one of the tables near me as I stomp over to him with my teeth clenched. Somewhere along the distance from where I was standing to where he's standing my hands ball up into fists. Uncurling them, I lay them upon his back and push as hard as I can. That should get his attention.

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[shrimp]

The smell of fried strips of potatoes hits me like a ton of bricks as I step into the restaurant. For a moment, I stand there, listening to the clanking of plates and light conversations among friends. This place has been my home for the past couple of months or so. It's not like I can go home or anything; my father smacked me last time I went back there, and Nila's been MIA for the past couple of months or so. Perhaps she just had it with father, just like me. Eh, whatever. I'm sure she'll turn up eventually - Daddy's girl needs that stability in her life, otherwise she'll crumble into little itty pieces.

Before, I'd be pretty happy to see her in that state. But it's different now. I'm less obsessed, which is a good thing, to say the least. The games don't matter as much (it's not like I'm going to be reaped anyways; there's too many guys who want to rip someone's head off for me to get a spot, even if I am 18 and ruthless), and I've become somewhat more mellow, even though that seemed like an impossible feat. I don't know how it happened though - perhaps that fighting spirit that I had always been commended for died down a bit.

I get a scowl from the waitress as she sees the cigarette in my mouth. They don't really like smoking in these establishments, but nobody really listens. Besides, if they were to enforce that, the restaurant would probably be out of business - too many patrons smoke. In fact, the entire restaurant has this smoky haze, like it's somewhat filled with cigarette smoke. I simply wink at the waitress, my mouth tilting upwards in a slight smirk. She sighs in exasperation and walks into the kitchen, refusing to deal with me for the time being. So she wants to be that way? Fine. I'll take my business elsewhere (or at least leave for a few hours. Babs will be in a much better mood once I walk in smoke-less).

The air is crisp today. Shivering slightly, I'm grateful for the fact that I have this jacket. It's warm enough that I won't die or anything, so I assume that it's a good thing. I yawn once, my eyes closing, mouth oh so gracefully opening widely, before walking down the docks, hands in my jacket pockets. It's one of those days, you know? The ones where you feel rather lazy and somewhat calm, which is almost impossible for me but... Still, I feel rather happy, almost. It's like nothing bad is going to happen today. I'm not at home, I can go to training to relieve the nonexistent stress, today I'm actually going to get paid...

"Oof," I mutter as I'm suddenly pushed forward. What the fuck? Why am I being pushed? Does someone have a vendetta against me or something, because if they do, I'm not going down without punching their face in. Snarling, I turn around, with clenched fists and- Oh, hey. I recognize this chick. Yes, it was during that time when I was obsessed over the games and beating Nila (which really wasn't even that long ago - thank god it's over), and it was pouring... And we got stuck in a vent. Yes, that's it. Oh, and that's when I realized that I was claustrophobic.

It sorta hurt my chances at winnings the games anyways - what if there had been a small area that I could barely breathe in? Perhaps I'd freak out and somehow be subdued by a mutt, or by another tribute who would hear me going nuts? Yeah, that would likely happen - with all the luck that I've had recently it's no wonder that on the off chance that I get reaped, the arena would have some small, dark, secluded area that would make me go relatively insane. It also means that I have something to hide; if they all found out, what the hell would they do? Shove me into a locker? Perhaps; those careers love a laugh, and making fun of someone was pure comedy. I would know - I was one of the tormentors throughout my life (and I'm [sort of] sorry about that, seriously).

My fists unclenched and I simply stare at her, glaring at her face, which is at the same level at mine (holy shit, she's just as tall as I am). What's her problem anyways? It's not like we got in trouble over it. The guy in charge simply had a rather entertaining hissy fit, and he couldn't even figure out who had caused the damage. She shouldn't be mad at me, unless if somehow she got sent to the Detention Center or something, but vandalism (and really, that barely counted as vandalism) wasn't something that she would be arrested for, right? Whatever, I'll probably learn why she's so pissed later today (perhaps it's that time of the month?)

"Girl, what the hell did you do that for?"

[Hayley]

Too many wrong words in the same sentence. This guy just doesnt know how to talk, does he. I never thought it was possible to say that many stupid words in one sentence. Apparently, Ive been proven wrong. "Girl, what the hell did you do that for?" Girl. Girl. He called me "Girl." My name is not Girl, it's Hayley. Girl. I dont appreciate being called "Girl." It's demeaning. I hate this. I hate him. He called me Girl! He's going to get it now. 

Ooh, this should be good. youre gonna get your ass handed to you. And what makes you think that? Hmm, lets see. He's a freaking Career! So?! I dont see how that makes a difference! Was I the only one who noticed those muscles? ....No. So we're on the same page now, correct? Ugh, fine. I'll win one of these fights one of these days. No you wont.

Now for my plan of attack. Usually, I have two attacks: verbal and physical. Verbal is usually better in the beginning because a good tongue lashing always freaks people out. The physical violence is just insurance. Sometimes you need the insurance, and sometimes you dont. Either way, its a hell of a lot of fun. 

"You pretentious douchebag," I growl through my clenched teeth. My brown eyes glare directly into his dull green ones. God, those are depressing. "It's your fault." My finger pushes against his chest accusingly. "It's your fault I got sent to that god damn Detention Center." I almost yell. Im not sure if people are looking or not, but whatever. Everybody already thinks Im a sad excuse for a person. Why not add on to the baggage?

"Why don't you just go die in a hole somewhere? That would make my life and probably many other people's lives so much better." I spit at him. My arms cross over my chest and I shift my weight onto my right leg. My left eyebrow raises as I wait for his reponse.

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[shrimp]

Oh, now I've gone and upset her because I called her a girl or something? I mean, immediately after I ask that she goes into this tyrannous rant about how I'm a douchebag (seriously? I mean I knew I had douche-y tendencies but I wasn't a flat out douchebag). Or perhaps it was because she got sent to the Detention Center and is blaming me for i- wait, hold up. She got sent to the Detention Center because her fatassness accidentally broke a vent? Oh my god, breaking a vent is totally the worst thing that one could do to Panem; of course she deserves to be tortured for that horrendous, despicable crime. Pfft.

An eyebrow is raised as she simply asks me to go die in a hole. Oh, what a wonderful thing for someone to say to another person - that's just classic. You know, it's not even my fault that she got sent to the Detention Center. Sure, I led her into the vent, but it wasn't as if she couldn't have gotten away with it - I haven't been arrested (yet), so clearly something's strange about the whole ordeal. Perhaps she just didn't run fast enough. Whatever, it's her fault not mine. And the fact that she'd prefer that I died because of something that's completely and entirely her fault is just rather stupid. I snort as she finishes up her line, watching her go into one of those "mmmmhm what's your excuse?" kind of poses.

"Well excuse me, princess, I didn't know that the whole world revolved around you," I state, arms crossing as I raise my eyebrow (hey look, we match!) "Oh, so I should die just because you say so. Alright then, my queen - my wish is you command," I answer dryly, chortling a bit as I imagine what she must be thinking right now. I mean, just because I'm a bit hesitant on the whole Career thing now doesn't mean that I don't know how to rile someone up. That's one thing that being a Career has taught me, and I don't plan to give it up - it's too much fun. "Although you might be right - after all, my sister would probably dance around my grave." I state, looking off into the distance with that kind of misty-eyed stare that I'm pretty sure would get her thinking "wtf?" or something like that. Eh.

I do feel a bit bad though - I mean, she was forced to go to the freaking Detention Center. I mean, it's ridiculous that she'd be sent there because of that one little thing (and just because it cost the Capitol tons of money to fix doesn't mean that they reserve the right to put her in a torture chamber), and even though it's totally not my fault (okay, maybe a tad bit my fault but not really), I do feel guilty, which is really something - I never used to feel guilty, and now I feel remorse over this girl, who just called me a pretentious douchebag? Emotions are strange things. I sigh, turning back to her, and state "I know that it's not going to solve anything, but I do feel bad. So do you want anything? Money? Something?"

[Hayley]

It's all I can do to restrain myself from slapping him. Literally. By now both of my hands are down by my sides clenched in tight fists. My knuckles are starting to turn white from the constant pressure and I can feel my short stubby fingernails digging into my calloused palms. It's all I can do not to unclench my hand and swipe it across his face as hard as I possibly can. And believe me, that's pretty damn hard. Why, you ask, would I want to marr the face of this tall blonde fucktard? Because he called me "Princess."

See, most girls would take that as a compliment. Do I really seem like most girls to you? Nope, you're more masculine like a guy. Shut up! "Princess" is like the ultimate insult for a person like me. The word "princess" makes you think of huge castles, pink, sparkles, glitter, and dresses. Oh god, how I hate dresses. What's the point of those stupid contraptions? You can't run aroumd because you'll get it "dirty." You can't jump up and down because then you'll flash everyone with your ass. You even have to sit a certain way! Look, if I wanted to sit up straight and cross my legs like a "good girl," I'd do it on my own time and not with some maniacal person yelling at me to be "proper." I really do not give a shit. 

Then the kid goes on some schpiel about how I'm the queen and he should die on my command. My upper lip starts to curl back over my top set of teeth, but I restrain myself from growling at him. "Yes, that's exactly what you're supposed to do. Because this is my kingdom and you're just a lowly bastard." I take a step closer to him so we're standing so close to the point that our noses are almost touching. I want him to hear my next words loud and clear. But of course, he cuts me off.  

"Although you might be right - after all, my sister would probably dance around my grave." he states, looking off into the distance all misty-eyed. Hey, I think I like this sister. Although I probably wouldn't go to that extent. And holy hell dude, you don't have to look off into the distance like you're some weak girl in an old chick flick. Aw, did his boyfriend leave him? I wouldn't blame that ex; this dude seems like he has a load of baggage. I'm about to ask him if his boyfriend left him when he cuts me off again. God, this guy needs to learn some freaking manners. 

Wait, what? He says he's sorry? Or at least feels bad? What? I'm thoroughly confused. This doesnt make any sense at all. This guy does not seem like the type tofeel any form of guilt or sympathy or emotions period. I guess that shows you shouldn't judge a book by its cover. That and the fact that I really don't know him that well. Maybe I should reconsider that part. ...What the hell, self? Ive been questioning my sanity a lot lately. 

As of now, I'm pretty much standing there dumbfounded. My mouth's not hanging open or amything, but my thoughts are racing. Then he asks if there's anything I want as compensation or something for being sent to the Detention Center. Ok, so he definetly wasn't sent there, too. That was just a confirmation of my assumption. But, really? He thinks some little gift could make up for my time spent in that cell with that annoying little girl who wouldnt stop crying? For that bruise that was on my head for a few weeks? For the fact that I could only half breathe for the longest time? Wow, this kid must have a thick skull. Or at least no life experience. But hey, if he's offering, why not take? It's not like people just offer hostile beings like myself stuff that often. A sly smile creeps across my face. "Okay, I'll tell you what. Buy me lunch, and we'll see where it goes from there." I say with a wink. Yeah, lets see how he takes that. 

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