Close your Eyes, Sometimes it Helps // Aria

[Vulnerable]

Should I give up
Or should I just keep chasing pavements?


The forest in District Seven was different from the open forest that connected many of the districts. At least, in the sense that it wasn't open ended. People logged here, but that was about it when it came down to it. It had a lot of trees though, and it was perfect for hiding and finding a place to rest. Of course, if you weren't a logger of some sort, you obviously weren't supposed to be there. Luckily for Naji, he didn't break the rules. Carrying an ax in his right hand, he tumbled through the forest at a slow pace. He had been chopping at wood all day. Every second counted for more money for him and his brother, along with the rest of the people that he lived with if he had any leftovers. Most likely, he would not, though. He still tried, even with the small amount of lumber he had gathered today. It looked like he was going to go hungry. Quietly, he went deeper into the mess of trees and looked for a quiet place with no loggers around. At this point, it was hard to find an area where no one was chopping down a tree. He didn't want to talk to anyone else while he lumbered, most of the time, as it had gotten him away from his work and prevented him from getting the money he needed. But, he usually did end up in situations where he had fallen into a trap to talk to someone; lumberers and their many conversations. In his boots, he finally had reached a place where there was a silence in the area. No surrounding lumberers appeared to be in this part of the 'forest', a small smile arising from the edges of his lips. Good. Now he could work in silence. But, there was a slight problem. He was a bit tired from the walk from the entrance to the forest to somewhere in the middle. Usually, he would know this forest like the back of his hand and be able to find places easier than just searching around. But today, he didn't have the will to remember those places. Alas, here he was, now propping himself up against a tree he had found and taking a quick break.

In moments like these, he questioned his own sanity. 'I wonder if what I'm doing is right,' He would ask himself, talking about his job of lumbering. Lumbering wasn't a sophisticated job to say the least and not his dream at all, but still, he had lumbered for his brother. But, what if this wasn't what he was supposed to do at all? What if the Capitol was a deceiver like some said? Naji had never believed this. They had their way of living and he had his. But, the Hunger Games came as a contradiction to his idea that the Capitol really isn't evil at all. They were cruel, violent, bloody. Things he would never wish upon anyone else in the world happened in those places, and there was nothing anyone else could do to stop it from happening besides just sit and watch as the contenders dropped like flies in the arena either in bloody battles, dehydration, or maybe even worse. Even though he did make some money from this lumbering, was it right to chop down these trees only to give most of the lumber to the Capitol? They had everything they ever needed and always had. They were living a good life, never getting hungry and they were usually always able to afford anything that they wanted to. Maybe his optimism was, surely, out of touch with the rest of the world. Maybe he should have just dragged and complained about the Capitol, how they took away most of everyone's sense of pride and didn't seem to care. But, because he was a good person, his current train of thought would not cease to exist in times like these. He had sense. He knew what would happen if he had started to believe things like this. He might as well just run off and get killed by a peace keeper, it would be practically the same thing. And getting slaughtered, now, with his brother on the line as well? There was no way he could do that. A sigh exited from his mouth, all of the thoughts vanishing like a ghost. Both of his eyes had opened. How long had it been? Ten minutes? Twenty minutes that he had laid there? Maybe it was longer, as it had started to become dark. His break had turned into a little bit more than a break at this point, didn't it? But, there was a sound that lured him.

Click! Click! He could hear a tree being chopped at. In this area, where there was no one around before? Odd. He'd wondered who could have come and began to lumber here. He had been here before, even if he had only accidentally come here this time. There was only one stump in the part of the forest that he was in, and now he suddenly knew he had a visitor. Someone was around. Click! Click! He could hear that sound again. Silently, he rose to his feet. He had slumped down before, without noticing it. He began to walk towards the noise and his eyes peered over, watching her chop a tree with precision for a few minutes. Curiosity took him over, his voice very quietly letting out a couple of sounds, which formed words, "Who are you? Have I seen you before?" He'd hoped that the girl could hear him over the loud sound of the chopping, but he wasn't sure. Either way, he wasn't going to get too close in risk that she might swing that ax at him. Either on accident, or on purpose.

{Hopefully, this post is alright with you. If not, I'll change it.}
Word Count: 983

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[Deleted]

Main
"Speech"
Thought
The Voice

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Other[/center][/size]

Just once in my life,
I think it'd be nice
Just to lose control, just once,
With all the pretty flowers in the dust.

"Ow, dammit!"

I land hard on by backside, scattering dead leaves in the swirling jet stream created by my falling body. I watch them for a moment, hazel orbs intently focused on their intricate dances before the pain draws my gaze away from them and down to the newly-opened gash across the back of my left hand. A sigh passes over chapped lips as I reach into the confines of my backpack to search for my first aid kit, a half-mumbled stream of profanities cutting through the cedar-scented air and crescendoing the longer it takes me to wrap callused fingers around the sought-after container. Finally yanking it free, I mutely start into the process of cleaning and bandaging the cut.

This isn't normal. The thought crosses my mind even as I hiss in pain at the contact of the alcohol-soaked prep pad against my breached skin. I've never hurt myself at work before, especially not with a saw, the first tool I ever learned to use. While the abrasion isn't bad at all, it unsettles me. I haven't been myself lately, or so Julian and my parents say, and the newfound clumsiness with the tools of my trade only serves as a testament to their worries. What is wrong with me?

Please, it's easier to answer the question if you ask "What isn't wrong with me." Shall we make a list? Fat, squinty eyes, obnoxious personality... oh, and there's the fact that you're a psycho who hears voices... like me.

Please just shut the hell up. I can't deal with you today. I know my internal request will be inevitably denied; the Voice has plagued my waking hours (and some of my scarier nightmares) for the better part of three years now, whispering little secrets of self-awareness that continually chip away at the walls I've built around myself. The Voice is not my own; I hear it as clearly as someone standing right next to me, acerbic tenor tones weaving a tapestry of self-loathing from which I fear I will never be able to disentangle myself.

I was fifteen when the Voice first whispered Just puke, fatass. You're too weak to stop yourself from eating, so get rid of it. Get rid of it all. It had been a bad day at school, more of the insults based around my broad shoulders and large bone structure than I cared to handle. Two years later, here I sit, fresh out of treatment for bulimia nervosa, insults still zooming inescapably around my consciousness (I try to stop them but they slip through my fingers all too easily, echoing coldly until Julian can find some way to silence them).

When are you going to wake up and realize that he doesn't really want you? You're just entertainment for him; you'll get boring before long. Why would he want to be with you when he could have anyone else?

It's always worse when Julian's not around. He possesses the ability to quiet the ravings inside my mind to a quiet mumble with his own articulations, "You're beautiful," and "I love you," serving as Goliath combatants against the acidic tendrils of You're hideous and no one wants you that spiral agitatedly in the back of my mind.

I haven't told him about what my shrink said at my last appointment yet ("Sweetie, I don't think this thing in your mind is just about bulimia anymore..." still causes an icy stab of fear to shoot through my veins), and the weight of the secret hangs on me as heavily as the bulky strand of diamonds that lay concealed behind the soft flannel of my shirt (I have never been one to show off, but the cool density against my skin is what I need to keep me going when I'm apart from him like this).

Sterile gauze winds its way over the scarlet line of my new laceration, making it clean and manageable as I count the days that have passed since the last time I actually got to spend time with my boyfriend. How many has it been, eight, nine? The first few weeks after I left treatment left me spoiled, giving me the luxury to spend hours on end luxuriating in the presence of dark chocolate hair that is the antithesis to my own ponytailed dirty blonde and stormy eyes that make my hazel ones appear shallow and bland in comparison. But work began to edge its way back into my life last week, cutting my available time in half and leaving me so sweaty and covered in tree sap and so incredibly tired that going on a date just isn't an option anymore.

Speaking of work... I groan halfheartedly, pushing myself back to my hiking boot-clad feet and yanking a hatchet out of my belt. I don't feel comfortable using the saw again, and the tree's almost down anyway, so I might as well go at it the old-fashioned way. The metal wedge bites into the hard cedar with satisfying thuds, each one speaking of a bonus or a really nice birthday present for Julian or maybe even being able to pay my parents back for the money they're spending on all these head doctors for me. I'm just starting to get into a good rhythm when the tentative voice weaves through the air behind me. "Who are you? Have I seen you before?"

My head whips around with a blondish ponytail flowing in its wake as I jump a bit in surprise, widened eyes taking in the new presence in this normally-secluded part of the woods (I don't typically like being around people, their eyes and their words hurt me although I never show it). He looks familiar, raven hair and tawny skin painted by shadow-patterns from the sun filtering through the leaves above. I quirk an eyebrow in his direction, taking a moment to wipe a thin sheet of sweat from my forehead. "I'm Aria, the girl you just scared the living shit out of. And yes, you've seen me if you go to school, or if you don't know me from there you've seen me because my dad's the foreman of this sector, and you wouldn't be cutting here if you didn't know him."

I am cool and caustic and more than a little abrasive, but it is the only way I know how to be. Absently bringing a hand up to my collarbone and tracing roughened fingers along the phantom shape of my necklace, I try to remind myself that not everyone in the world is bad.

Of course people aren't naturally bad at heart, 'Ria. You just bring out the worst in them. Because you're completely toxic.

[Vulnerable]

Should I give up
Or should I just keep chasing pavements?

Fear. That was the exact thing that he could see in her eyes as she turned around to look at him. He had not meant to scare the girl as badly as he did, he was just trying to satisfy the curiosity that have took him over in that single moment. Had it been a bad mistake do to that? To frighten her? And had he, somehow, caused the injury that she had gotten earlier with his presence? Worrisome, truly. Every thought of what he could have done wrong had went through his mind all at the same time and circled around for a while until he finally came up with a conclusion on what he was going to do next; either stay and keep talking to this girl. Apologize, of course. Or, leave, but again apologizing. He was the shy type, to never talk to people unless he needed to. And the other girl had an ax to chop down the trees. But, something about her made him more interested in knowing why she was here. How she had actually hurt her hand, hopefully not by his doing. Of course, he could only see glimpses of it, but it did look hurt, didn't it? Of course it did. Instead of leaving, he gave her a quiet smile, a sign of the apology that was about to come out from that small mouth of his. No, he wasn't leaving. He just stayed there, found a tree to lean against, and glance at the girl, his smile quickly turning back to his usual look of concern. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you that badly," Quickly, the concerned look turned into something more along the lines of panic and guilt morphed into one.

'What if she's a corrupted person? What if she could tell her father something bad about me for this. She could easily lie about this to get me punished for something.. What do I do?!' His voice chimed through his head, alerting himself of the danger that he had managed to get himself into. If he weren't allowed to lumber anymore, there goes any way to get money for him and his brother. He was completely screwed if Aria had decided to do something like this. And this wouldn't be the first time that someone had encountered someone so cruel. Of course, thank the heavens, this girl didn't seem to be that way. Still, could she be like that behind her mask of flesh? Behind every fiber of her being, could she truly be an evil person? Even Naji could not imagine, and he had not even formally met her yet. Now, instead of this girl having a sense of fear upon her face, the tables have turned and he became completely stiff when he leaned against the tree. He truly was a person of worry, wasn't he? It wasn't like that she would say anything at all, but what if she did? The odds were still there, and it was still a risk, wasn't it? He didn't voice his concern, though. Instead, he just stood there, frozen in place, trying to act as if nothing was wrong.

"Foreman of this place? No wonder. I have probably seen you around," He said, managing to mask up that hint of fear that ran through his very body. She was someone special, it seemed. She was the daughter of the person who ran this section of the forest. He'd already recognized this before, but he couldn't help but think about it again. Special people wouldn't have to log, would they? Could she be lying? The fear slowly washed away like a nasty scent after you've taken a shower and a sigh of relief exited his mouth. However, he was not going to accuse her of lying. He was too nice, respectable, and a bit too shy to do something like that. And, she had a damn ax in her hand. Having an ax thrown at him wouldn't be too fun. "I guess it would be fair to introduce myself," He said, his voice barely heard because he was such a quiet person, "I'm Naji. A wood chopper myself." He wished it was easier to say hello to a complete stranger, but it really wasn't and never would be easy for him to say hi. There was that never ending urge in the back of his mid to just leap away and pretend that he hadn't said anything. But, then again, he knew that it would be rude. Surely, he didn't get this trait from anyone he knew. It was just him, it seemed. No one else had this quality, did they? Overly kind, respectable. He would take a bullet in the brain for people that he trusted. But, strangers were ever far from trusted in any book of his. "And, uh," He responded with a slight nervous tone in his voice now, making no means to conceal it when he asked why she logged. If her father was the foreman here, why was she forced to get a job and log with the rest of them? She didn't seem too strong, at least not strong enough to be a logger, "Why do you log if your father is the foreman here?" His body had finally eased up a bit against the tree that he leaned on. The only thing left to seem nervous now, was the sound of his voice when he had begun to talk to her further. Now, he'd stepped into the quicksand. No going back once the conversation begun, if she did so choose to allow the conversation to continue that is. A part of him wished she wouldn't, but a part of him wanted to know more. Curiosity was still a factor.

Word Count; 968

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[Deleted]

I know I'm a mess,
And I wanna be someone,
Someone I'd like better.

He's quiet when he talks, sincere and apologetic and everything I am not. I instantaneously feel bad for snapping at him, averting my eyes and fixing them on the dead leaves at my feet. "It's fine. I've just been jumpy lately; it's not a big deal."

Jumpy? You mean paranoid. You know what paranoia is, 'Ria? It's a symptom of mental deterioration. That's a fancy way of saying you're going crazy.

The voice hisses to me again, and I can't hold back the little twitch of surprise that my body gives, my head turning slightly to look for the source of the sound. Please, just please be quiet. What do I have to do to make you shut up?

Oh, I'm afraid I'm rather fond of talking. You're certainly not the most thrilling conversation in the world, but hey, you're slightly better than nothing.

[/color]

"I guess it would be fair to introduce myself. I'm Naji. A wood chopper myself," the dark-haired boy says quietly, jolting me out of my internal conversation. The name Naji isn't familiar to me, but I'm sure I've seen him somewhere before. Probably at school, where I'm so quiet that I tend to slip into the background. I stopped fighting the other girls years ago, and now I only sit with a grim acceptance as I listen to them talk loudly enough that they're certain I can hear.

"You see that necklace Fowler's got on today?"

"Yeah, I heard she's been seeing one of the Scott boys. James or Jared or Jacob or whatever his name is. One of the hot twins, anyway."

"Well whoever he is, he must be desperate. Why else would he even look twice at her?"

Naji shoots a soft-spoken question my way, something about why I'm working, but I can't really focus all that well through the painful memories of my first week back at school after treatment. My head snaps back in his direction (why am I so jumpy?), and I find myself groping stutteringly for an answer. "Wh-why do I work? Oh, um, well... it's complicated."

Because you feel bad about all the money your parents spent sending you to the funny farm, not to mention how horrible you feel when your rich boyfriend spend ridiculous sums on your useless ass.[/color]

"I, well... I've got stuff that I need to pay for." I sum up the Voice's response in less caustic words, meeting Naji's dark gaze guardedly. "Plus, I like working. It takes my mind off of things."

That much is a true statement. Physical activity has always been an escape for me, be it climbing trees or felling them. When I take my brain out of things and narrow it down to muscle and bone and a task that needs to be accomplished, life becomes far less complicated. My mind is a scary, dark place, and I will happily take any means of escaping it that I can. When it's just me and an ax and a tree that needs to be down within thirty minutes, the Voice seems to mysteriously dissolve, leaving me in the only true place of peace that I can find outside of Julian's presence. I can't say all of this to Naji for the risk of sounding like a total nutjob, though, so I simply leave it at the statement that I like to work.

Sounding like a nutjob? Poor, delusional little 'Ria, you're a bit beyond just sounding crazy. Little old me is more than enough proof that you're certifiably insane.[/color]

I jump again, the frantic searching motions of my eyes probably far more noticeable than I'd like them to be. The Voice is a physical presence, no longer a little hissing in my mind like it used to be, but a sound that is as audible as the mockingjays chirping in the branches above. There are times when I'm certain that the voice is a real object, something tangible and touchable and visible that follows me around, and that maybe it will go away when I find its hiding place. I'm tired to death of always feeling like I'm being followed. See, what did I say? Paranoia. I hate to tell you, princess, but I'm locked up nice and tight inside your crazy little noggin, and I'm not planning on leaving any time soon.[/color]

"So!" I pipe up a little bit more loudly than I mean to, my hands, desperate for something to do, darting up to pull nervously at my ponytail. "I don't typically see people this far out. What brings you all the way out here, Naji? Are you just antisocial like me?"

I try to laugh, but it sounds forced and a bit deranged, so I cut myself off, turning on my heel and starting back into work on my tree. If I work fast I can be done in ten minutes and maybe have time to go home, shower, and run over to Julian's for the evening. I'm not terribly excited to have to deal with his mother's glares or the inevitable presence of Felicity, the girl he'd been forced into an engagement with before we met, but the Voice's activity as of late has been so frequent that I'd put up with just about anything to be near enough to him to silence the ravings in my head.

"Feel free to stay, though," I call over my shoulder, relieved that my voice sounds a little bit closer to its normal, relaxed soprano tones. "I could use some conversation."

'Ria, I'm hurt. I'm not conversation enough?[/color][/color][/size][/blockquote]

[Vulnerable]

Should I give up
Or should I just keep chasing pavements?


Jumpy? Was that a reasonable excuse for Naji to stop worrying that he did something wrong? Of course, a part of him told him not to believe it. That he actually did do something wrong, when he should know he didn't. Regardless, the part of him that told him to let down his guard made him do just that. He gave a positive face of a release of built up negative energy and simply smiled now and nodded. "Oh, okay," He replied in a simple mannerism, gripping harder on the ax in his hand. He did understand when people were jumpy. Often, Naji was when something unexpected happened. In a way, he was always jumpy and aware of his surroundings. He tried to avoid, most of the time, situations in which he was with someone else so he could just have some peace and quiet. But, it turned out that some conversation didn't hurt at all. If anything, it helped with his little problem with people and he would soon, maybe, get rid of his shyness for good. But, it would probably come back to guard him. That's how it always worked if he was able to get rid of it for a little while. It was an inadvertent enemy in that sense, because it got rid of the chance for some happiness. It got rid of his chances for making friends and having a normal life in District Seven. But, he'd already ruined his chances of getting friends after he quit school to support him and his brother. It was a good cause though, and it wasn't like he was going to accomplish big things anyway. He would always be stuck in District Seven, and there was nothing changing that any time soon. At least, not in his time. Maybe, hopefully, something would happen. Everyone could go where they wanted to go, see what they wanted to see. Maybe there could be an undying freedom among this country in the future, but that was nonexistent at this point.

She seemed hesitant to answer that question at first, the one about where she works. Naji stared at the girl with some level of intensity, wondering what the problem was in that question. Had she been forced to work by her family to pull in some extra money for what seemed like no reason at all? How odd. What kind of family would do that to their own daughter or son? It didn't seem like anyone should be allowed to do that if they had enough money to get by. But, Naji didn't speak about it. He just awaited the answer, which was a bit out of his expectations. Okay, that was good. She didn't work because she was forced, she worked because she wanted to. Naji didn't work for that reason himself. He worked because he had to, for him and his brother. He needed to put bread on the table and he was going to do it, because he would never want his brother to work until he had to. He didn't want him to drop out of his studies, even if it didn't seem as important as some people made it out to be. Though, he did possess the last part of what she said. He had also thought that it distracted him from the world around him. When it was just him, chopping down a big beautiful tree, you could make sense of nothing else but the tree and yourself. Chopping down a tree is an amazing feeling, you have to put all of your time and effort into it. Though, Naji had another passion that he kept a secret; writing. It soothed the soul and he was a natural poet. He could make a poem out of anything. Mostly, he'd come to the forest in the times that he didn't have to babysit and sit down. He'd watch the wind whistle through the trees, look to see if any creatures came within the sectors barriers. He loved to watch, observe, so that later he would be able to write words down on paper. It wasn't for the attention. He never has shown anything he'd done with sheets of paper, what words he'd written down. Of course, because of this, no one knew he liked poetry or writing. No one.

There it was. He watched again as she made another movement. Just before he talked about his name earlier, she was twitching. In that single moment, she jumped up. What was with this girl? Something strange lingered around her, but it didn't make Naji think she was freakish. More so, it made him think that she was more interesting. It made him more curious about her, every time that she seemed to be doing this. She was odd, but that was what made her so fascinating. That, and the fact that she cut wood for fun. "You could say that," Naji said quietly, not uttering out many words. He was trying to break that shy barrier that he had up, but he couldn't. At least he talked, at least he responded. It was all he could do to talk, try. Still, he smiled when she made that odd laugh. He turned around and looked at the tree he was leaning against, taking the ax and a swing. It had been a little while since the conversation since he had logged. But, he did so. He stayed in the same place, instead of running off to find a place by himself. Without looking at Aria, he'd begin to speak to her. The shyness had slowly faded as he made a continuous battle with it, in his mind. "Yeah, I'll stay. Uhm, to answer your earlier question, I am shy. I don't like to talk to people. People make me mad, I shouldn't be mad. Being mad makes things bad and I have to be strong, and kind, to be a good role model," Naji smiled, knowing that Aria couldn't see it.

Word Count; 1005

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[Deleted]

If I wasn’t here tomorrow,
Would anyone lose sleep?
If I wasn’t hard and hollow
Then maybe you would miss me.

"Yeah, I'll stay. Uhm, to answer your earlier question, I am shy. I don't like to talk to people. People make me mad, I shouldn't be mad. Being mad makes things bad and I have to be strong, and kind, to be a good role model." I’m not used to quiet people (my family and my coworkers are all insufferably loud, not to mention myself), but Naji’s unassuming attitude is a breath of fresh air. He’s quiet, but not in the sulky, contemplative way that Julian is. On the whole, he seems like a fairly laid-back person, a personality trait that I have never been able to master.

Well, I suppose it’s a little hard to be laid-back when you’ve got voices in your head. But really, ‘Ria, you can’t blame the entirety of your horrible personality on me.

I bite my lip in frustration, feeling my face heat up angrily as the Voice adds its ever-present commentary as a supplement to my thought. My personality is just fine. Julian likes it well enough. Julian also has horrible anger issues, a superiority complex, and enough teen angst to fill novels. Are you sure that he’s the person you want to base your self-evaluations on?

[/color] Shut up. Just shut up. I am so tired of listening to you.

A malicious chuckle rings in my ear, dripping in poisonous mirth. I’m in your head, princess. You only have your own twisted subconscious to blame.[/color]

Snarling irritably, I swing my hatchet with more force into the dwindling remains of my tree. Gradually, I start to slip into that coveted place where my mind leaves the equation, leaving only me and the blade and the wood and the job that has to get done. For a few brief moments, there is unbroken peace. Then, there is pain. Hissing quietly, I snap out of my stupor and glance down to the spreading crimson flower blossoming over the cotton-wrapped expanse of my hand. It seems that my overzealous effort has reopened my wound from a few minutes ago, leaving it bleeding and stinging terribly whenever I try to move my hand. Perhaps it was deeper than I initially thought. I cringe at the thought of stitches, but acknowledge that I may actually need them to fix this up.

"Shit!" I gasp when I remove the bandages. The cut is much worse than I thought, gouging a deep red line all the way across my palm and bleeding profusely. Stitches, definitely, and probably time off of work. The thought of my form of escape being taken from me makes my heart race in terror. If I don’t have a few hours’ repreive from the Voice every day, what will I do? I’ll go crazy, I know it.

More crazy than you already are, at any rate.[/color]

I’ve only ever had a panic attack once, in treatment, but I can recognize the symptoms as clearly as if I’ve been having them my whole life. Shortness of breath, elevated heart rate, sweaty palms, dry mouth, the works. I’m exhibiting all of them now as my eyes remain fixed in horror upon the river of red flowing over my palm and dripping from my fingers. Blood has always grossed me out; the too-bright color and coppery smell of it is so abhorrent that I can feel bile rising in my throat at the sight of even this relatively harmless laceration. The Games are when it’s the worst, sitting in a crowded classroom full of other kids being forced to watch the carnage and trying desperately not to puke. There’s just something inherently wrong about watching it, something terrible about the warm sticky flow of life as it falls in a silent stream to the carpet of dead leaves at me feet.

Shuddering, I lean my back against the trunk of a nearby terr and sink to the ground, my good hand groping blindly for my bag. My fingers are shaking so badly that I can barely get a grip on the zipper, and I don’t know whether it’s from blood loss or panic. It’s just that there’s so much of it, hot and repulsive as it soaks through the cuff of my sleeve and stains the sage green flannel an ugly rust color and it reminds of horrible things like accidents at the sawmill and years and years of watching schoolmates die and how sweet little Nadene is running around right this moment turning into a ruthless killing machine…

Snap out of it, woman! Descending into hysteria, as entertaining as I may find it, won’t help get that hand patched up. If you bleed to death out here, I’m dead too. I’m not too interested in that outcome.[/color]

I swallow hard and nod at the Voice’s harsh command, blinking myself slowly back to reality. My uninjured hand digs through my bag and grasps my first aid kit again, pulling it out with a grip that hasn't quite stopped shaking yet. My voice holds similar tremors when I call out to the dark-haired form across the clearing. "Um, Naji? Could you maybe help me out with this? I think I really fucked up my hand."[/color][/blockquote][/size]

[Vulnerable]

Should I give up
Or should I just keep chasing pavements?

Naji never did made an assumption about someone before. Or, he has, but he would never admit it. He was a kind person to everyone and usually ignored everyone else around him. But here he was with this girl, Aria as she called herself, and she was a bit of a rough cookie, wasn't she? What made Naji think about her the most, whenever he looked at her, he could see those odd looks on her face that would well up now and then. It made him think, why was she doing that? That wasn't the only odd trait about this girl. The constant worried and panicked expressions that she had many times when you looked at her. it was a bit distressing to Naji to see someone like that, but able to do nothing because he didn't know what was even going on. He hadn't a clue about anything that bothered her, he didn't even know her name. And yet, he still cared, because he was still a quality human being and one that cared about others, even if he ignored most other people. In fact, he would have asked what was wrong, but he didn't. Why? Because she probably didn't want to help that people gave her. She seemed strong, independent. She seemed a bit like those people that would never need or request help. Maybe a bit like Naji himself. But, he would ask for help if he did truly need it and he always knew when he needed it. There was no fine line separating him and reality.

"Shit!" He could hear from her mouth, right when he went back to focus on the wood that he was chopping opposite of the girl, Aria. Quietly, he turned around and watched her muse to herself and take off that bandage. From where he was standing, you couldn't tell if the wound was actually all that bad, though you could tell that it was bleeding quite a bit for just a regular hand wound that she once thought wasn't that deep. Naji has had to deal with those types of wounds before, as did most people who logged. They had to be used to the cuts, gouges, and any nasty thing in between because it was going to constantly happen until they stopped working. Naji himself had patched up a couple of wounds in his time working with logs, but he was not experienced by any means. He just had to half-ass it most of the time. Luckily, those times worked and the bleeding stopped after a little while. Still, he would never attempt it again as he didn't think of infection at those times. Infection was much worse than an open, bleeding wound most of the time. It caused you to get illnesses you've probably never even heard of, and caused you die a slow, painful death. It was truly horrible. But the girl probably didn't think of that. She was thinking about the wound, Naji taking a step closer to her to be able to look at the wound. It was deep for a wound in the middle of a forest.

Panic. Naji rushed over when the girl asked for him to come check out the wound, although he'd already gotten quite a nice glimpse of it from the spot that he was staring at it from. Of course, he would set down his ax on the ground first. "That's a bad cut," Naji said, bending his knees a little to look at the wound closer. Yep, as deep as he thought it was when he saw it just a few moments ago, "Looks like you need something to get the bleeding to stop." Naji kept her arm still with his hand and opened up the first aid kit, looking through it and looking for something to close the wound first. A needle.. Now, where was the stitching? Or, a temporary stitching. He just needed to seal off the wound. But, of course, first, he looked for a disinfectant. There was only a little, as any first aid kit would have, but he tried to apply it to her hand as careful as he could. He begun to lace the temporary stitching through her hand, to close the wound for a little while before she could get checked out by someone who knew more about medicine than Naji did. The used bandage that Aria had taken off earlier would be tightly wrapped around her wrist, as well as a small piece of his shirt which he would have ripped off to possibly caused the blood flow to subside. Of course, Naji would have made it horribly. He wasn't good at this, so the bleeding would probably continue, just at a slower pace. Naji went over to grab his axe again, put it around his back, and lifted her up with her other hand. "Let's go get you checked out. You're going to have to walk, try staying calm.. If you can't walk, I could try to carry you," Naji said, letting out a sigh. Carrying someone out of a forest? Not exactly the best thing to do, or the funnest. But if it was needed, he was going to do it.

Word Count; 875

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You can't be too careful anymore
When all that is waiting for you
Won't come any closer
You've got to reach a little more

The antiseptic stings so sharply that I'm forced to bite back a gasp of pain, feeling tears lick at my eyes in pinpoints of liquid fire. I blink them back stubbornly, though, fighting to breathe evenly and remain impassive. I have never liked crying in front of people (although Julian has witnessed my tears far more often that I'd like to admit), and Naji is no exception. So I grit my teeth and suffer through it, even though the stabbing pain of the needle has me dangerously close to releasing a choked sob into the air. Thankfully I keep it together until he gets my hand bandaged and pulls me up to a standing position.

"Let's go get you checked out. You're going to have to walk, try staying calm... If you can't walk, I could try to carry you," he says, the look in his eyes showing genuine concern, something I am not used to.

Of course you're not used to it. Who would be concerned about you? the Voice pipes up in irritatingly snarky tones, causing me to twitch a little in annoyance. Promptly ignoring it, I dig around inside myself to find my bravado, slapping it on like a mask as I snort somewhat derisively at Naji's offer.

"I don't think a wounded hand is going to impede my ability to walk." No one has ever accused me of being overly kind and in all likelihood no one ever will, but the harshness of my statement makes me pause for a second, eyes fixed on the carpet of dead leaves. "But thanks for helping me. I'm used to taking care of myself; I guess saying 'thank you' the right way is a little hard for me."

Cradling my injured hand close to my body, I set off along what I'm fairly certain is the direction I came from, deciding that if I can find my father he'll be able to patch my hand up effectively. Despite the fact that my hand throbs so badly that it feels like it's going to fall off, the crisp breeze is relaxing along with the forest sounds that I'd been tuning out. Pausing in the middle of the path, I turn around and glance at Naji. "You coming?"

((Oh lord. LORD. That was terrible, I am so sorry. Feel free to shoot me.))