this could mean danger // [rosetta!]

[∂αмєη]

[4E484C] [839979] [E2FFF1]

Snap. Again. Do pencils ever work the way you want them to? Click click click. My finger presses against the eraser a few times, enough to push the piece of lead further out the top. While swatting my hand across the sheet to get rid of the broken fragments, a sigh leaves my mouth. Kip said the paper was due in a few days, giving us enough time to do a little research before putting all one thousand words on paper. I had a reason to rush and to write down everything I could while frequently glancing over the top of my glasses at the book that was perched up against the wall. The book had something to do with the diversity in animals and the variations between their immune systems and make ups. I had read it before in my first year, so I already knew how to write the paper. But I had to finish it now. I mean, I'd have to give it in at some point, sooner or later hopefully.

He just gave it to us today but that didn't matter. My fingers pass by my mouth quickly as I put out my tongue, dampening my digits so I can flip the page on the book. The pencil scratches across the paper, guided by my hand in a dance. Information flowed from my brain to the paper effortlessly and smoothly. Soft eyes followed the flow of careful handwriting, down the loop of a 'y' and smoothly forming an 'o'. But then the loud ring of the bell tells me that the library will be closing its doors for the night. Usually, I'm around to hear that bell each and every day. It tells me that I have to enter back into the world of reality instead of the worlds that books bring you into. Imagination is not needed once you leave the library. Everything has to be regular and business like in the Capitol. Out in the real world.

Snatching up the papers off the desk, I hurry out through the door to beat the eventual rush of people leaving. My bag smacks gently against my right hip as I practically scurry to the side walk and down towards my home, which can be seen from where I am already. It was still a few blocks away but the roof could be seen from many parts of the campus. The sun poured its heat across the city, reflecting in the glass windows and forcing me to shut my eyelids together and to squint through little slits. I blindly tuck the paper into my bag as I turn the corner, a building to my right quickly covering up the bright sun. The weather hasn't been like this in a while, most of our days being dull and gray, rain practically drowning the city. But today, it was beautiful.

The door to my house soon entered my vision and it almost immediately disappeared as I opened it up. The old man standing at the door took my coat and nodded, bringing it off to our mess room where we keep all the jackets and boots and shoes. Making my way up the large staircase and into my room, I tore off my shirt and quickly threw on the closest one to me. It would only serve as an undershirt. Today was different from most afternoons. Usually, I'd go and volunteer at some place and then come back home, finishing my homework and reading some of the books I have currently been in to. But today was a big day. I was still volunteering, yeah, but it was for something entirely different. It was for the most important people in the Capitol. People who had even more money than my family did. And last I heard, a certain somebody was supposed to arrive. Somebody who I couldn't help but respect and admire.

I pulled the red button up on, playing around with it and observing through the mirror. The dark, soft vest came next, buttoned up all the way and giving a more formal look to my appearance. After slipping on my shoes and rubbing off a small scuff on the tip, I was back down the stairs and out the door. The watch that was wrapped comfortably around my wrist said I had just around ten minutes to make it to the large mansion and to meet with my boss for the night. And maybe I'd run into her. If she even showed up. I mean, I heard it from worker's gossip. Usually it came from the Avoxes. Which is evidently not very trustworthy considering they can't exactly speak. But I try and trust them anyways because really, they'd gain nothing from lying to me. I'd work harder if she was there, meaning they'd have less work to do. So, it was beneficial to tell the truth.

The doors swung open just in time though. A gong rang through the home as the clock struck six, announcing that the party was to begin. I slipped into the kitchen, smiling at my boss as he gave a nod of approval. I had worked for him before. He was used to seeing me and my overachieving personality. He liked my work ethic. I liked it too. And you know, Grabel wasn't that bad of a man. He was fun to talk to when he had a little too much to drink. Last party was quite an adventure, to say the least. I push away the memories as my hands grab hold of the metal plate holding different types of drinks. All of them are surely alcoholic, or they are the drinks that allow you to throw up food you have already had. My guess would be the former though, especially due to being so early in the evening.

Stepping out into the large hall, I'm immediately taken by surprise. There are so many people in the room. Cameras flicker and laughter erupts as guests share their stories and jokes, giving their opinions on the current Hunger Games as well. One man is loudly confessing his love for the female of District Twelve, obviously having had way too much already. But what are these people doing here? I quickly dismiss the thought. It's not my business. And it's impolite to question somebody's motives, unless it is causing harm on those around you. My butler used to tell me that. He usually shared deep things with me and most things made sense. So, I usually stuck with them and just moved on. A woman quietly takes a drink off my platter, giving me a nod and then stalking off to a corner. I try and smile despite being around people who are either way too intoxicated for my liking or too busy discussing a violent game that claims twenty three lives every year, sometimes more on certain occasions. I had a job to do, so I'd do it. And if I was lucky, maybe I wouldn't be thrown up on or something. But then I caught a glimpse of her. I had never met her before. She didn't know who I was. But I knew quite a bit about her. Because of the Games. Because she was the one person who lived through the whole ordeal.

Because she was Lethe Turner.

[Rosetta]

Lethe Turner

[/center]
It took a lot of coaxing, begging and threatening. Lethe was even forced to resort to a tantrum. And that's what did it. When the Victor throws a hissy fit, you knew to get her what she wanted. And that's just what happened. Grinning, though slightly embarrassed by her fake-out outburst and the stress it had caused Mel, Lethe departed from the Training Center and out onto the colorful Capitol streets. People nodded their heads as she passed and a few asked for her autograph. She obliged, though her mind lingered on other things. When she'd finally broken away from a group of young girls, who exclaimed excitedly that Lethe was their hero, she ducked into the fragrant bakery. Cakes winked at her from the counter and sweet aromas swirled around her. The far-too glamorous woman behind the counter looked up as she came in and her white teeth appeared between red lips.

"Oh, good afternoon, dear! What can I get for you today?" She smiled wavered when Lethe gave her order, but she didn’t question it.

"Your best one, please. If you can," Lethe swiftly added. The woman chuckled.

“Of course!” She disappeared into a backroom and Lethe was left alone. There were mirrors were lining one of the walls and though Lethe kept her eyes diverted from them, they still made her heart race and her palms sweat. They frightened her beyond belief, even the mention of one causing her stomach to lurch. Luckily, the Avoxes who attended to her took great care in making sure that the mirrors in her room were either removed or covered. Yet, she despised the rippling fabric that haunted her when she went into the bathroom, the closet, her very bedroom. It was the mark of her new condition, the failure of the Capitol doctors. The monster that she’d become.

To busy herself, she straightened the casual black dress she'd chosen. Nervously, she wondered if it was appropriate. It wasn't like anyone would care. She just wanted to make a good impression. As good as an impression someone like her could make.

It didn't take long for the woman to return with a white box topped with a pink ribbon. "There you go, darling," she purred. Lethe hastily thanked her, paid and hurried out of the store and back onto the streets. She managed to hail a taxi, so she wouldn't have to face the masses and was soon on her way. The smooth rolling of the vehicle did little to soothe her nerves and she spent the ride twisting her hands in her lap. There was a sense of urgency in her tapping foot as the taxi went along. It didn't matter when she got there, realistically. Yet, Lethe felt as if the longer she waited, the farther she got away from the small relationship she had right now...though, truthfully, she wasn't sure there was a relationship to begin with.

The locket in her pocket burned against her thigh as she pondered. She couldn't bring herself to put it on.

After paying, Lethe departed from the taxi, but stopped short before the clean, white building before her. Heart pounding against her chest, she swallowed hard, praying that she lay behind those doors. Perhaps she was waiting for love. Waiting for a sign. Maybe she, though at such a young age, understood why she’d been thrust away from the only person who could love her truly. But, of course, to understand such a thing was highly unlikely. Lethe didn’t quite understand it herself.

With a deep breathe, she stepped forward. One step, another, pause, step, and she was inside the building, striding across marble floor to the polished desk, where a green-haired woman sat, yapping away into her phone. Her eyes widened when she caught sight of Lethe, who heard her say, breathlessly, into the phone, “I gotta go, Eileen. Call you back. Bye!” Then, with surprising speed, she slammed the phone down and smiled at Lethe, all of her gold teeth showing. “Good afternoon! How may I help you?”

“Uhm…” Lethe cleared her throat. “I am, um, looking for someone. Only for a visit.”

“Usually we don’t allow visits if one isn’t looking into adoption, but for you we will make an exception,” the receptionist told her, revealing a diamond-inlaid tooth when she spoke. “Who do you plan on visiting?”

Lethe fished the locket out of her pocket and told the woman the only name she knew. Examining the picture, the woman nodded. “Yes, of course. I know who you’re looking for. Follow me, please.” Lethe wondered how the woman could walk in some unbelievably high heels as they clattered down a brightly lit hallway. “Ah, here we are.” The woman pointed towards a pink-painted door and allowed Lethe a moment to breathe again and try to calm herself, before they went in together.

There was already an Avox in the cheerful room, bending over a pink crib. At their entrance, he straightened up and departed, casting Lethe a questioning look. The receptionist motioned to the crib. “Take as much time as you need,” she informed the nineteen year old and then turned to leave.

“Wait,” Lethe cried, “I have a question.” She swallowed and asked it. And she received an answer. That’s when the woman left, closing the door behind her. The slam left an echo in Lethe’s heart. It was with fear that she approached the crib, fear that she’d made the wrong decision in coming here and facing old ghosts. But, when she looked down to see the bundle in the crib, a smile found her lips. “Happy birthday,” she whispered, eyes glistening, “Edana Crider.”

The mutt lunged. She could only scream and try and defend herself. But, she wasn’t the target.

Crunch.

Thud.

Her fingers were scraping the lovely girl’s clear face, skimming the silky blond hair. “Good bye, pretty girl.”

Anya’s daughter was just as beautiful as she was. Her eyes were large, her limited hair blonde. She was fast asleep, sucking her tiny thumb, curled up. But, she awoke when Lethe reached down to pick her up. With green eyes, she studied the girl, but didn’t cry. In fact, she settled comfortably into her arms and allowed herself to be rocked in the rocking chair. Lethe fished what she’d bought from the bakery with one hand. The Capitol could make anything these days, even birthday cupcakes from one year olds that they’d actually eat. Edana munched away at it as Lethe rocked her, gently.

“I’m Lethe,” she introduced herself. “I knew your mother, Anya. She was pretty, just like you.” Edana babbled something in gibberish and Lethe laughed, as she leaned forward to wipe cream off of her little nose.

Anya had never revealed to Lethe about her child. When she’d opened Anya’s locket, once out of the Games, she was surprised to see the child’s picture inside. Taking the picture for that of a sibling, she disregarded it. However, when she visited Anya’s District, in an attempt to return the locket to Anya’s parents, they merely stared at the picture before telling Lethe they’d never seen that child in their life and was she sure that was, in fact, Anya’s locket?

That’s how Lethe’s campaign started. She had to know. If it was important to Anya, it was important to Lethe too. They’d been allies, though for a short while, but allies nonetheless. Lethe was certain that when it came down to it, Anya, like Razor, would’ve walked away and not killed the girl before her. And so, Lethe had to know, had to find out what was so important to Anya that she carried the secret around her neck.

No one seemed to want to tell her. Capitol attendants feinted deaf, Avoxes steered away, and even her prep team would hastily change the subject when she brought it up. It was Mel who finally told her.

“Alright, fine!” she cried, exasperated, over Lethe’s crying and screaming. The sharpness in Mel’s eyes gave a tiny hint that she didn’t think Lethe’s outburst was entirely real. It was surely uncharacteristic of her. “That picture…that’s…that’s…well, that’s Anya’s baby! She had her before the Games.”

Lethe’s stomach felt as though it had turned inside out. Anya’s child? The girl who volunteered for the Games…a mother? Though she’d learned one secret, it lead to many more questions. Why would she volunteer if she had a child? Were the Games really bigger than Edana? Or was she trying to win for Edana? But, those questions were to remain forever unanswered; they’d followed Anya to the grave.

And so, Lethe knew her peace of mind would come from actually seeing the child. It did settle her a bit, staring down at the lovely girl. Yet, some sadness still lingered, sadness for what was the happen now? Who would take Edana? She’d been here a year. Beautiful children like her shouldn’t be in places like these for long.

Yet, it made sense. Horrible sense.

Who’d want the child of a loser? A dead tribute? Anya lost. While, say, it had been Lethe’s child, everyone would’ve wanted her. But a tribute who was murdered of Day 2? Never. And it was sickening.

“Edana,” Lethe said, finally, when the child had finished eating, “I love you a lot, alright? I may not be your mom, but I love you, okay? I loved your mom a lot…even though I knew her for only a little while. She was a great woman. And that’s who you will grow up to be.” Slowly and gently, she stood up and placed Edana back in her crib. The child watched her, almost anxiously, almost as if she were afraid Lethe would leave…“I’ll come back, I promise you,” Lethe whispered as she clasped the locket around Edana’s tiny neck. “Good bye, pretty girl…” She kissed Edana on the top of her head and with a stabbing pain in her chest, left.

She hoped in the note that she left tightly pressed into the locket, complete with her home phone number (if calling was allowed, that is) and that she’d be back each year, that Anya wouldn’t mind that Lethe named herself Edana’s godmother.


The party was well underway when Lethe arrived, clad in pink, her radish earrings bouncing as she walked. Camalia clung to her shoulder as usual. It was just like any other party she’d been forced to go to as Victor, and so, Lethe moved slowly, boredom already setting in. She could sense the cameras on her, as well as the eyes. She could just hear her name of their lips, slurred into the wine they drank. The smell of her own wine, thrust into her hand upon her entrance, rose into the air amongst the various aromas of perfumes and food. It was enough to make Lethe dizzy.

Wandering around the room, diverting her eyes from others as she always did, Lethe turned her attention to her wine. She’d never actually had any alcohol. Her parents didn’t allow it and she’d never had enough friends to go partying and drinking with. She had to stop herself from glancing nervously around, remembering that no one cared if she drank, before she took a sip.

It was like nothing she’d ever tasted it. It was bitter across her tongue and she found that she didn’t quite like it. It was all too much, the wine glass, and when the first Avox came around, totting a tray of tiny little glasses with clear liquid, Lethe was quick to exchange. The glass was smaller. It had to be less alcohol, right?

It took only two. They were both excellent. Just a brief burning sensation, a head rush and she was laughing. All sorrow she previously had trickled away, turning into all fuzz. She giggled as she moved through the crowd, this time flashing unfocused smiles at the camera before moving on.

She didn’t see the boy until she had knocked into him.

The glasses went clattering to the floor, abruptly stopping Lethe’s laughter. “Oh no, I’m sorry!” she cried, sudden tears pooling in her eyes. Right out of the blue, she was extremely upset with herself for knocking over this boy’s glasses, her heart racing. She stooped down, not caring that she’d sloshed some sort of drink over her shoes. It wasn’t until she’d picked up the first glass that she realized the boy was staring at her. “Oh yeah,” she chortled, blinking away her tears, “I’m Lethe Turner. What’s your name? I’m really sorry, you know! Let me help you!” She reached for another glass, but lost her balance, causing the one she was holding to go skidding into the crowd, as she landed on her bottom. Camalia licked her neck and skittered down her arm to balance on her wrist.“Oh, crap! I’m sorry!” she cried, the tears coming back. “I’ll help! I’ll help!”

She didn’t think about how she’d probably regret all this later.[/size][/color][/blockquote]

[∂αмєη]

[4E484C] [839979] [E2FFF1]

Girls. A gender I've been around my whole life and that should be well known by now and yet, I know nothing about them. That doesn't do much to make me sound cool or anything, surely, but I've never pushed myself to talk with the opposite sex, especially any who were of a much higher status than I was. Not like they could be richer, thanks to my family and their hard work, but they could definitely have been one of the snobby girls who stood at the top of the social ladder. I just stayed clear of any female who I ever met. You know, all my friends claim that girls are unintelligent, immature and they are seemingly barbaric, at least according to how they see things. I listened to them. That's kind of the reason why I didn't go near anybody who didn't have the genetic build of a male.

I can't even keep lying to myself. There are two things wrong with that previous thought. One, I don't have friends who could tell me that. I don't have friends at all. In order to hear those things, I'd probably need some amigos, some people who could get my back. You know, another brother from a mother, or whatever everybody says. Lacking those guys was both embarrassing and well, it kind of sucked. Secondly now, I could never think that a gender that was so graceful, beautiful and intelligent would be so horrible. Women were definitely not barbaric or immature. I think I've met one or two who have had more maturity in their pinky finger than a group of males do. Of course, I don't literally mean that. Our physical being is made up of bones, muscles, skin, water, blood, and other things of the sort. Maturity is not one of them.

Point is that I have never been very experienced around girls. I only stood and glanced at the victor, not even daring to head towards her. Maybe if I was a bit more muscular, slightly more attractive, charming enough to hold a conversation longer than a few minutes and not working, I'd consider at least introducing myself. Would she even care though? Probably not. So, I looked back down to the platter of drinks I had and continued into the crowd. I was running out soon enough, only having one more glass left. The doors to the kitchen swung open and the light poured out as another trolley of various types of food arrived. Stalking into the room before the doors shut, I placed my tray on the counter, swiping the drink off of it and glancing at the liquid.

Alcohol puzzled me. It was an unknown substance, something I only drank when at formal celebrations that I was specifically invited to. Either a glass of champagne or a small bit of wine would enter my system and I'd usually hate every bit of it. It tasted gross. At least, that was my experience. Raising the glass towards my lips, I tested the liquid, finding the warm sensation comforting. It poured down my throat as I tipped the glass up, lighting the inside of my mouth on fire thanks to the mysterious quality of the drink. Shaking my head to release the feeling, I picked up the next tray of drinks and hoisted it on my shoulder. These drinks were fruity, their dark red colour seeming to shimmer because of the glass. Lemons hung over the edge, adding a slight bit of flavour if the drinker wished.

People were once again all around me as I headed back out into the room. The music had picked up, this time giving the word "party" more of a meaning. Whatever this event was for, it had to be laid back. A celebration of something, obviously. If she was here, it must have been important. She would probably only go to the best events there were. Whether it would be televised, or only the most important people went, I would assume she wouldn't be found at anything but the best. This was the first time I truly saw her. I mean, I thought I had seen her once before at an orphanage as I was leaving from my volunteer work, but the chances of that are slim. I mean, it could have been possible. Anything is possible. Even the word impossible says "I'm possible". But it was very unlikely. So, I shrugged it off and ignored it.

But she was definitely here this time. For sure. My first time meeting her, even if meeting wasn't the best term to use. Seeing her was better, but that just made me seem creepy or something. I lacked any social skill at all, so it was safer to remain away from her. If she approached me, which she'd have no reason to, I'd probably have to speak to her or something. At least say something so she knew I wasn't an Avox. Most people assumed that those who worked at events like this were Avoxes. And they were usually right. A lot of the workers were Avoxes. However, they didn't consider that a rich boy might be volunteering in order to pay his way through university without using the riches that his family provided.

That's why I was fine with not communicating. It suited me just fine and it made no difference to those around me. I guess it was better to just stick with what I was used to, even if there was as close to a celebrity as our society has in the room. That shouldn't matter and so, it won't. She was just another girl who came from District Five and had to fight her way to survive. She had killed somebody. Oh dear, I guess that's a little hard to ignore. So what though? There are people in the world who have done much worse and yet, we are forced to bow down to them in a way. Like the President. He enforces the Games, the event that kills so many children each year. Yet, he's the one we all have to listen to because if we don't, we are rebels and rebels are bad and bad means death, in most cases. Technically, those that survived the Hunger Games were rebels in a way. They beat the system, even if the system states that one could live. They beat the odds. So technically, Lethe was-

Smashing into me. Her blonde hair seemed to flash like a blur before my eyes, a shout leaving my mouth as my drinks clattered to the floor, along with my whole body, the red liquid splashing all over my clothing. I glanced down to see the wet spots because of the fruity drink and a quiet curse left my mouth. I never cursed. This was different. Looking to my hands, I noticed the small shard of glass sticking out. The scarlet blood was already dripping down my palm. And her cries about how sorry she was were filling the silence that had crossed the room. Maybe I should pretend I'm an Avox? That was my first thought. It would probably be easier to just stay quiet and let her go back to enjoying herself. That would save me from so much embarrassment once she realized I was a loser.

I didn't want her help though. It would be rude to ask for the help of a guest, let alone a Victor! So, I cleared my throat, not wanting my voice to unexpectedly crack, and answered her. "No, no don't worry about it. It's my fault." And then she fell down to the ground once I had managed to get up on one knee. She'll help? No. I don't need her help, nor do I want it. It wasn't just the fact that she was a guest and shouldn't have to work. No, it was that she was important and I wasn't and I didn't even deserve to be talking to her, let alone receiving her damn help. I frowned, hoping she'd see my dislike of her offer. However, was it really smart to pass up an opportunity to talk with this girl? To speak with a person who's social status was above mine. Wouldn't that boost my popularity a bit?

"No you don't have to help. You shouldn't have to. They will probably send people from the kitchen to pick it all up. I can escort you away if you want to get cleaned up?" I muttered quietly, looking up and right into her eyes. Did I seem to eager to make friends? I hoped not. That would be embarrassing. My eyes flicked from hers to the little lizard she had with her and I couldn't help but grin. Lizards were fascinating creatures as I had learned when we studied them last month. Apparently, according to my butler, I was like a lizard. I was often seen as different and weird but really, I was just another animal. Pushing myself completely to my feet, I offered my hand for her to take in case she needed help getting up. Whether she was sober or not, I felt the need to make sure that she was alright. "Eric. I'm Eric."

[Rosetta]

Lethe Turner

[/center]

Lethe had never been more embarrassed in her life to put it bluntly. Sure, the girl had learned to deflect the leering eyes and taunts of others seeing as she regularly shied away from mirrors and people and spoke to a lizard, whom she allowed to lick her. Still, embarrassment was embarrassment. She'd first been introduced to the emotion as a six year old in school. It had been before her parents had diagnosed her disorder. No one had known then, not even her. She thought it was normal for everyone. Her teacher assigned her to sit next to Carolyn. Of course, Lethe didn’t know who was Carolyn. She couldn’t recognize her face. So, she stood there, nervously, trying to pick out who she was. Seconds became centuries and minutes became eternities. A sea of white stared back, confused as to why this girl wasn’t just taking her seat.

The first boy laughed. In the days, weeks, years following the incident, Lethe wouldn’t know how he had looked, taunting her like that. However, after the operation, another incident as it was considered, in her mind she could clearly how his pudgy face screwed up into one of mirth and his large, thin-lipped mouth emitted high pitched giggles. Laughter was contagious. It spread swiftly to the girl next to him and then the girl next to her and the boy next to her and so on, until the room was filled with laughter that the teacher could not subdue. And Lethe was left, drowning in the middle of it, trying desperately to bite back tears. Which didn’t work, as a second later, she’d flung herself out of the room, down the hallway and into the bathroom-which she later found out was the boy’s bathroom-to cry.

Her embarrassment now certainly wasn’t to that severity, but, nevertheless, she didn’t enjoy the fluttering in her stomach and burning on her face. The room was still dizzying, still spinning and now, the boy she’d run into was at her side, on his knees. "No, no don't worry about it. It's my fault." Even through the odd, whirring state she’d been thrust into it, Lethe could hear the discomfort in his voice. For a moment it didn’t make sense, but when it finally came to her, her cheeks felt as hot as furnaces. He was a mere servant, and she, the Victor. She wasn’t supposed to be helping him.

Now, his eyes were in hers, wide and genuine. They were lovely eyes, she noted, as he spoke, telling her that someone else would take care of it and does she need to go somewhere to clean up? Clean up? For the first time, Lethe noticed that the hem of her pink dress was soaking wet with whatever she’d knelt in, as well as her knees and hands. Oh, no, she realized, feeling suddenly light-headed, this wouldn’t look good. The Victor, on her knees, covered in some sort of beverage. She attempted to glance through the crowd to see if there were any lurking cameras, but everyone was moving too fast, in a whirlwind of color and sound that the only clear thing was right in front of her: this boy, and of course, Camalia, who had skittered back up her arm and onto her shoulder. A second before, Lethe had seen the lizard take a quick lick of whatever was on the ground, decide against it and come to her owner. Only now did it register in Lethe’s mind.

“Bad Camalia,” she scowled the lizard, looking cross-eyed at her shoulder to get the colorful lizard in view. The action of it hurt her eyes. “Don’t lick anything off the ground!” She made to glance apologetically at this boy, but found he was on his feet now, towering over her, holding out his hand and declaring his name to be Eric. Eric. She liked that name and made to tell him so.

Yet, staring up at him for too long made her feel queasy to her stomach, so instead she followed his gaze, finding it not on herself. It was on Camalia. And he was grinning. Well, that was something new. Most often, rather than a grin, Lethe would find a scoff in Camalia’s direction, followed by delicate words asking about the lizard, but never seeming genuinely concerned at all. In fact, most people acted as if the lizard would kill them if they touched it, as if “it” had some kind of deadly disease that was highly contagious to the touch. To which, sensing this feeling, Lethe would allow Camalia to lick her face, but rather than dismiss the foolish thoughts of these people, they looked rather disgusted and were gone quickly. Maybe to make them leave was her goal all along.

Nonetheless, Lethe felt a warm surge of gratitude at Eric when she saw this smile. She wasn’t sure where it was coming from-perhaps the alcohol, deep within her gut-but the light warmth was there, as she accepted his hand and staggered, none too elegantly, to her feet. “This is Camalia, by the way,” she said, returning his smile, not realizing how widely she smiled, creating a rather goofy look. “You can touch her if you’d like-in fact!” Eagerly, still filled with glee, Lethe gripped the lizard in her hands and dragged her off of her shoulder, thrusting the squirming entity out to Eric. “You can hold her! She doesn’t bite! Only licks, hope you don’t mind!” She laughed, but the laugh was shrill and even she could hear it. She felt light, weightless, much like a feather, and happy. Yet, at the same time, she could still feel that burning in the back of her throat and the fuzz welling up around her. It was all color and lights. Despite all that glee pumping through her veins, it made her anxious and she fiddled with the hem of her dress, again realizing that it was wet.

“Oh,” she muttered and looked up, pleadingly, into Eric’s brilliant green eyes set on a round, almost boyish face. But, who was she to talk? Before she was Victor, before everyone knew her, people would ask her how old she was, figuring she was around fourteen or fifteen, if they were feeling adventurous. “Please,” she begged, forgetting that he’d already offered what she was about to ask, “can you find me a place to wash up?” She glanced around, hands tightened around the soaked hem. “Without cameras?”[/color][/blockquote][/size]

[∂αмєη]

[4E484C] [839979] [E2FFF1]

Really, this is all surely a dream. I mean, I don't meet women my age very often, unless we're working on some class assignment. Even then, I prefer to communicate as little as possible. It's not that I'm unable to talk with girls, it's just that I don't feel very interesting or worth the conversation. Who would want to talk with the little nerd when there are people who are far more attractive and far more engaging? So, how could it be possible that Lethe Turner, a beautiful and amazing girl, was talking to me instead of running off before anybody could notice? She was a victor too! But no. She was talking to me like she actually cared. She's been drinking, Eric. I got rid of that thought as soon as possible. I didn't care. I wasn't going to let her have to take care of herself while she was in this current state. Maybe she was only talking to me because she wasn't entirely in control of her actions. So what?

My eyes followed the lizard carefully as she spoke about it, calling it Camalia and offering for me to hold it. Animals were my life, other than helping others. I mean, they just lived life and enjoyed it because they could. Humans were so focused on power and control and money and things like that. Animals just focused on survival and living. That was what was so admirable about them. Camalia was interesting, as it was rare that animals would bond in such a way as the lizard did with Lethe. Usually, only domesticated animals would have that sort of relationship. But it was different in this case and that's what was so intriguing and interesting. I carefully took her in my hands, chuckling quietly at the rough feeling of her tongue against my skin. "She's really beautiful." I smiled, noticing the way her scales seemed to shine.

She was back up at my level now, standing on her feet but still appearing a little uneasy. I offered my arm so she could hang on and nodded, smiling genuinely. "Of course. Without cameras." The layout of the building immediately filled my mind as I tried to pick out a place, settling with one of the rooms a floor or two above that had a bathroom and a bed so she could lie down and rest a bit. Reaching into my pant's pocket, I pulled out a set of keys that would surely unlock the door. "We just have to go up some stairs." I muttered, glancing at her and gauging her reaction. Can she even make her way up the stairs? I'm sure Grabel wouldn't mind if I used the elevator once. He won't even find out. I quickly changed the direction, heading towards the elevator instead. "Actually, we can go the quicker route." My voice was low and I wasn't even sure if she heard me, or cared.

The elevator soon arrived after I pressed the button. Stepping on, I held it open so she could pass inside. Clearing my throat, I turned to look at her, still unable to believe exactly what was happening. "I don't think there are cameras up here. And if there are, I could probably take them apart or something." A quiet laugh escaped my lips, sounding more like a snort. Nice job. Now you sound like even more of a freak. I fixed my glasses carefully, trying to avoid her gaze as much as possible. My throat felt like it was tightening because I was beginning to get nervous and I felt my palms getting clammy. But the doors opened up and I gladly stepped out, taking a breath of fresh air. The window was open at the end of the hall just slightly, allowing a cool breeze to flow through, helping to calm me down. I felt my neck cool down and my muscles relaxed a bit. "Just in here." I wrapped my hand around the knob, pushing the key in and unlocking the door.

Once the doors were pushed open, I couldn't help but stop and stare at the room. The light brown walls were covered with different types of paintings, flags and decorations, making the room colourful and tasteful. I slowly stepped in, noting the bed and its dark brown colour scheme to match with the room. The bathroom was to the right of the door, containing a sink and simple shower, along with a toilet, which was obviously going to be in a bathroom. "So uh, yeah. You can clean up if you want. Do you want me to...you know, wait around outside the room or what?" I asked, awkwardly scratching my jawline. I looked around the room, doing whatever I could to not look her in the eyes. However, it wasn't long before I succumbed to the urge, quickly glancing her way. "I'll leave if you want, Ms. Turner."

[Rosetta]

Lethe Turner

[/center]

She felt as though she could sink right through the very floor. Her legs were weak, her head spinning. The elevator was going up, but all Lethe wanted to do was sink down, down, down…

What would her mother think? Lethe knew what she’d done. The burning in her throat was evidence. She could almost hear her mother’s voice, faintly wafting through her buzzing head. “Stay out of trouble, Lethe, you can’t afford to make any mistakes. You’d be the laughing stock of Panem if the cameras caught you.”

The cameras can’t catch me, mother, her voice whispered back in her head. Eric-this boy-Eric, his name is Eric, he says they can’t. Listen to him, mother. He’ll tell you.

"I don't think there are cameras up here. And if there are, I could probably take them apart or something."

Ha. Lethe grinned at the shiny, gold elevator doors, unable to see the boy next to her, for her lack of eye on that side prevented her from. Stupid glass eye. Stupid lack of eye. Stupid-stop, she forced herself. Stupid nothing. He hadn’t meant to. It had been the Games. He didn’t have a choice.

That brief image in her mind, of that flash of silver racing towards her, then the horrible burst of pain, her strangled cry in the thick, watery air made a shiver pass down her spine. She didn’t want to remember. Of course not. The only memories were of agony, ragged shrieks, desperation, scarlet blood, fear, sorrow…and they were all dead. It all was cold in the end. Cold, dead, gone. Their eyes were sightless. Perhaps Lethe’s lack of sight in one eye deemed her half-so. Half dead. Half alive. Drifting through life. Caught up in this swirling, flashing, buzzing world.

You’re drunk, Lethe.

A burst of fresh air hit her face as the gold door slid up, momentarily clearing the ringing from her ears, but it soon returned, loud and persistent as soon as she got used to it. Stumbling into a new, quieter hallway, Lethe followed Eric, his image bright against the equally vibrant surroundings-why did he have to wear such colorful clothing?-and blurry at the edges. Like a moth drawn to light, Lethe Turner was drawn to him.

The hallway seemed longer, more twisted than it should be. She followed it, clinging to his bright aura to a door. He smiled at her, opened it, "Just in here." Lethe stepped inside. It was a bathroom. A slightly more subdued one than the rest of the house, that slowed Lethe’s heart rate, but only just. And to her surprise, there was no mirror. Her lips parted in a smile.

“Thank you!” she began, twisting around quickly to thank the boy behind her, but the sudden swirling gave her head rush and she found herself falling backwards. Arms flailing outward, they caught Eric’s shirt and he was tumbling down with her. Lethe gasped aloud, and shrugged towards him as she fell, but in doing so, their lips connected.

Lethe had never been kissed. Never. In her nineteen years of life, Lethe Turner never as much as hugged a boy. She didn’t want to for fear that in the morning, she’d be left wondering who’d kept her lips warm and they didn’t want to, fearing that their romance would only last a day. While some might find that appealing enough, a day-long romance, Lethe certainly did not and ran from all possible suitors.

But, now, there was no running. Not with his weight pressing down on her, lying on the bathroom rug, kissing him! She didn’t want to run. She was comfortable right here, comfortable, warm, safe…

Happy. [/color][/blockquote][/size]

[∂αмєη]

[4E484C] [839979] [E2FFF1]

Out of all the things that I could hear, my heartbeat was the only thing that stood out. Thump thump. Obviously, it wasn't that loud. Definitely not loud enough for me to hear it without some device or something else. Thump thump. Maybe it was just my mind playing tricks, wishing for me to be aware that it was surely beating twice as fast as it regularly did. Thumpthumpthump. But it wasn't my fault. Everything kind of bottled itself up into...well, a bottle. The presence of the girl, the fact that I left my work station without notifying my boss and the fact that I had more homework than ?I could manage and yet, here I was, 'screwing around'. My father told me once that whenever I was doing something that I shouldn't be doing, I was screwing around. Unless I was on task and always staying focused, I was screwing around. And so, following his logic, I was currently screwing around.

The bottle of everything, which really wasn't filled with bad problems like the bottles of other people would be, was filled to the top and threatening to explode. Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump. And now my heart was racing and there was nothing I could do to calm it down. Surely, she would be able to tell if she just looked at me. Surely, I looked like I could drop down at any moment. But one thing kept me up on my feet. I wasn't going to pass out in front of the most beautiful girl I had ever met. Besides the fact that I really never had the chance to meet a beautiful girl, it was undeniable that Lethe was stunning. She seemed to radiate beauty, even despite the things that the Hunger Games had caused. To me, she was incredible in every way. I couldn't pass out in front of her. That wouldn't be cool. Although, who am I to talk about what's cool and what's not?

My eyes followed her all the while, ensuring that if she needed my help, I could dive forward and be the hero. Thumpthump thump. She turned towards me, almost too quickly, and spoke. "Thank you!" But it was hard to focus on the words she spoke because in an instant, she lost her balance and was falling towards the ground. I quickly took a step forward to try and catch her, but her arms grabbed on to me anyways. Thumpthump thumpthump. And of course, because I was me, I felt my feet slip on the carpet and soon enough, I was falling too. Of all the times to be clumsy, it had to be today, right? It had to be when I was trying to help a beautiful lady who had been through so much. Of course, there was no way I could get a break. Even if it was just once, there was no way-

She was kissing me. Her lips felt foreign and different, but the warmth immediately sent chills down my spine. Wherever our skin touched, it seemed like there was an electrical current that splashed against me, and I really didn't want it to go. It didn't matter that I was now on the ground. Nothing else mattered. Everything around me became blurry and all that I could see was Lethe. Even with my eyes closed, all that mattered to me was the girl who was now beneath me. Thump. I felt my pulse slow down and for once, I wasn't a few problems away from a mental breakdown. I was calm. And I loved it. It felt like the kiss had been going on for hours for me, but I knew it had only been seconds. And unfortunately, against my wishes, I pulled back and moved back on to my feet and towards the wall. Leaning against it, I took a deep breath.

That was my first kiss. My very first kiss. Usually people will have been kissed by their parents, whether it was on the cheek or lightly on the lips. Mine never even hugged me. This was the very first time I had come in contact with another person and this was the very first time I had the comfort of another's lips against mine. Some creatures waited their whole life before experiencing the feeling of touch. It was something that they tried to avoid in hopes of avoiding being eaten alive. For myself, I just avoided it because I was awkward. People avoided me so I never really had the chance to be in this position. But here I was. With Lethe. Oh wow, it was with Lethe. It was with a Victor. It was with somebody who was seen as a celebrity to the Capitol. It was with the most incredible girl I had ever seen.

It was with somebody who was clearly under the influence. And surely, that had something to do with it. Would she have even gone with me if there was no alcohol in her system? For some reason, I doubted it. Nobody liked me. It was a well known fact. I used to not understand why but now, I sort of do. I don't even like me. I wouldn't want to go near me if I had the choice. Once the alcohol began to wear off, she would be running for the hills in hopes of never seeing me again. "Uh, the sink is there." I pointed, trying once again to avoid her eye contact. Thuuuump. Now my heart was beating slowly, as if it would stop at any moment. I inched towards the door, disliking the feeling of the cold metal against my hand as soon as I touched it. It was horrible compared to the warmth of Lethe. "I'll be outside, I guess." I couldn't stay any longer. "Need anything else before I, uh, go?"

This was the first time that my heart was beating irregularly. And whether it was because of the romance or because of the utter fear I was feeling, my heart was beating because of Lethe. And there was only one thing I knew for certain. This would only lead to something bad. This would certainly mean danger. Thump thump.

[Rosetta]

Lethe Turner

[/center]

It seemed to only last a nanosecond before the warmth was leaving her, the sparks stopping at the lips as the boy moved away. Staring at him, pushing himself to his feet, Lethe could only feel a sense of dread, bubbling hot in her stomach. She’d done something wrong, hadn’t she? He didn’t really like her, right? That was a mistake. She had to apologize.

However, before the word could even form in her mouth, Eric was pointing around the bathroom, "Uh, the sink is there." She didn’t answer, shocked by this shift. The warmth that had filled the bathroom had evaporated, leaving a cool tension that did little to clear Lethe’s fuzzy mind. Eric seemed to flicker and waver as he inched towards the door.

Don’t leave, her mind begged, but she couldn’t find the words. Her tongue was tied, twisted, her stomach churning most unpleasantly. She didn’t want to open her mouth for fear she’d dumb her stomach’s contents all over the ground. No, not in front of him. Not him. She couldn’t embarrass herself in front of him.

"I'll be outside, I guess. Need anything else before I, uh, go?"

Lethe shook her head, knitting her eyebrows as the boy left, shutting the door behind her. As soon as he was gone, she hastily crawled to the toilet, pulled up the lid, stuck her head in and vomited, her entire body trembling. As tremors went up and down her body and her stomach lurched, sending its contents up her throat, into her mouth and finally the toilet, Lethe had only one thought: Crap.

She’d definitely made a fool of herself in front of Eric! He probably hated her, was disgusted by her, didn’t want to see her ever again. And that was the worse thing. Lethe groaned as the quivering finally subsided and she was able to slump back onto the warm carpet, wiping her mouth with her hand, flushing the toilet with the other. For a few minutes, she lay there, staring at the spinning ceiling, occasional jabs hitting her in the stomach. She’d made a fool of herself and that hurt far more than the vomiting.

Lying there, Lethe felt alone. The weight of anxiety pressed down her as she considered the ceiling. Camalia skittered up her arm and licked her face, desperately, fearing Lethe’s silence was that of death. Lethe giggled softly and stroked the lizard. She wasn’t completely alone. She had Camalia.

After a few minutes, Lethe attempted to get up. Her legs were weak and shaky under her, unwilling to carry her weight and for the third time that day, Lethe found herself falling backward, the world becoming one big swirl as her body tipped and toppled right into the bathtub, tearing down the shower curtain with her. Pain surged up her back as she hit the glass bottom of the bathtub, wrapped into the blue shower curtain, her dress thrown up to her upper thighs, exposing her legs.

That’s where Lethe, her head still whirring with sound, color and motion that wasn’t really on the white ceiling, began to cry. [/color][/blockquote][/size]

[∂αмєη]

[4E484C] [839979] [E2FFF1]

Maybe I left a little too fast. At least, it seemed slightly rude when I slipped outside and pulled the door closed all in a matter of seconds. Well, normally it takes seconds to leave a room anyways. My point is that I didn't linger at all or I didn't look back over my shoulder to ensure that she was alright. No, I was gone. And as soon as the door was closed tight, I moved around the corner of the wall and pressed up against it, trying to breathe in and out without having some sort of break down. My first kiss. That was my very first kiss with anybody. And it was with Lethe Turner. Let's ignore the fact that she was a Victor of the most deadly and difficult game that has probably ever existed. She was still stunning. She was still a great person. And she's drunk. Once again, I ignore that fact.

The taste of her still hung on my lips. What did she taste like, even? It was mostly just alcohol. Alcohol and the faint taste of some sort of lipstick. The booze was too strong to identify the exact taste, though. And now, I had the faint smell of it on me, along with the vile taste in my mouth. My brain felt like it was rocking back and forth in my skull as I played the memory back, remembering each moment as if it just happened. It did just happen. There was no point in returning to the party at all for the rest of the night. I was as out of it as Lethe was, minus the alcohol. And minus the sounds that she was now making from inside the bathroom. My stomach seemed to lunge forward in response and I found myself running into a room across the hall and bending over the garbage can before releasing whatever food I had in my stomach.

Alcohol was something I had never tried. Even at our huge family celebrations, I steered clear of any type of beverage that would take control of my decisions and stuff like that. Most of my cousins would drink wine and champagne because that was just what you drank during times of celebration. But no, not me. I was the good kid. Maybe I was being too good of a kid, but I really couldn't care less. Being drunk wouldn't help when I was in class or helping out with others. However, in this one instant, I wanted to. It really didn't help that I was now standing in a cellar of sorts, but above ground. All sorts of drinks lined the walls and even more were hidden in barrels that covered most of the floor space. It was a temptation I couldn't avoid and it took even less time for me to hop across the room towards a bottle of vodka than it did for me to leave Lethe in the bathroom.

I grabbed a few bottles, actually, and wandered back out into the hall. Popping the lid off I took a few swigs, welcoming the burning that accompanied the alcohol as it slid down my throat. It didn't taste incredible but I'm sure it would get better as I moved on to the second bottle. And then the third. And then the fourth. If anybody had been watching, I must have looked like a veteran drinker as I pounded back each bottle in mere minutes. By the end, I felt the effects coming on, glad that I still had some control. The room seemed to move slowly around me and it appeared like it was tipping from side to side. Struggling to get to my feet would have been impossible if not for the wall beside me, even if it was moving around. Why do walls move? That's not cool. They should just stay where they are because walls are supposed to be still and to hold ceilings up. No dancing walls!

Pushing my head up against the door to the bathroom, I tried to listen closely for any sounds. And all I heard was a girl crying. Thank god she was because it pulled me back just enough to open the door and to head in. I didn't even think about if she was naked or not. The alcohol still clouded that part of my judgement. "Lethe?" My voice, accent and all, echoed after I spoke. It sounded really cool but I quickly moved on from being entertained by it to being shocked at the sight. Lethe was in the bathtub with the shower curtain nearly wrapped around her. Tears were streaming down from her eyes and she looked as if she had just emptied out her whole stomach into the toilet. "Ms. Turner, are you alright?" It was surprising that my voice came out smoothly and clearly instead of proving that I had a few drinks in me.

But once I took a few steps towards her, I proved it. There was no way somebody wouldn't realize that I was slightly intoxicated. What even happened? Well, I stepped forward. Again. Again. And then I slipped on absolutely nothing. I slipped on thin air, I guess, and found myself flying towards Lethe and the bathtub. Right on top of her, actually. Really? Does this really have to happen to me? So I quickly rolled away from her while taking a deep breath. That's when my hand dropped down from where her waist was to where her hand was. The contact brought back the sparks and I immediately wanted more, but knew it was wrong. "I'm so sorry, Lethe." Muttering, I turned to face her. She was so beautiful and so perfect, even with tears in her eyes and a sickly look to her.

It felt like it wasn't even my decision to bring my hand up to her chin before leaning in and kissing her gently. But it was worth a shot, right? The electrical current thing ran down my body again and I felt like never pulling away. For now, I wouldn't. We were both in a bathtub, intoxicated and we were kissing. It wasn't extremely romantic but hey, it was working. For once, I was with a girl without feeling awkward and out of place. She made me feel normal, yet different. And I liked that about her. I liked it a lot.



[[ooc; omfg horrible post but yeah, there it is.]]

[Rosetta]

Lethe Turner

[/center]

The raindrops fell in a rhythm outside, dancing out a beat that only Lethe could hear as it matched her heartbeat. It was another one of those conversations, a chiding conversation that smacked against the rain, once more poisoning the air it was trying to clean. Lethe didn’t like this conversations.

"No one will ever want me, Mother," Lethe said quietly, watching the water slide down the window pane, racing each other to the bottom. "No man would want someone like me."

"Nonsense," she had said with that awful false smile. "Your condition isn't horrible, honey." Lethe swallowed hard and tried to count the raindrops hitting the flower pot outside, but they came down too quickly. Mother's hands came down on her shoulders, squeezing reassuringly. Lethe didn't turn, only shrank against her mother's touch, feeling her tiny soul rattle inside of her with the truth that only she knew and her mother did not.

Her mother spoke with her grin, "Your condition can be looked past!"

But, not if I'm a monster, Mother.

After her surgery, Lethe's mother did her best to ignore the terrifying side effect. She had all the mirrors removed from the house and never spoke of the consequence as a result of a risk Lethe Turner, Victor of the 58th Hunger Games, direct and indirect murderer of twenty three other children, never should have taken. Instead, her mother spoke of triumph. The condition had been overcome. She could recognize faces. Lethe was suddenly desirable, wasn't she?

No, she was a monster. Doomed to live out the rest of her days like that. A clawed, scarred, red-eyed creature.

"No man would want someone like me."

The words rung in her buzzing ears as Lethe stared at the ceiling again, wrapped up in the shower curtain. Against the words came the soft, slight, frantic wet dragging sound against the bathtub, Camalia trying to lick her way through to her fallen friend. Lethe didn't move though. The bathtub was so much more comfortable, so much more contained. She just wanted to lie here, watching the ceiling dance above her.

"Lethe." Instantly, her ears pricked up. He was back. He sounded so far away, underwater. Join me underwater, she begged in her mind. Eric, where was Eric? She'd heard his voice.

The answer came in an instant. It came flying at her, in a mass of limbs, the smell of alcohol hot and strong sweeping across her face and weight, right on top of her. Eric. He was here. A smile crept upon the monster's face. He was here.

Words swirled around her, but she barely heard them. Just the moving of his lips captivated her, the glimmering of his eyes, his weight warming her down to her bones. She wanted him. The monster wanted him. He could want her. He wanted her, didn't he?

Did he know the truth?

Surely, he, a Capitol residence, would've seen her. He'd have seen the monster fight, flee, pounce. Seen what she'd become. From an externally scarred beast to internally. But, why wasn't he reacting? Running and screaming? Why was he here? Pressed up against her, he was, sharing her warmth.

And he was kissing her again. It was soft against her lips. Butterflies beat against her stomach, fluttering up into her pounding heart. He'd come back. He wanted her. Their similarly alcoholic tastes intertwined with one another, passing through their tongues. As they kissed, she pressed herself against him, longing to feel his warmth. She wanted him. She was hungry for his kiss, his taste, his hands hot in hers, gliding over the rest of her body. Didn't he feel the blood on her hands? Did he care?

"No man would want someone like me."

But, alas, this one did. The world spun and shimmered around her in a whir of color, moving rapidly, but time stopped in that bathtub, lying with him, curled together, kissing. Her heart was attempting to spring free from her chest, the chest heaving against Eric's.

Her thoughts raced. He was unafraid of who he lay with and grasped at. She was free there. She, the monster, was safe and free. Speculations danced before her eyes, popping up like stars in between her unfocused gaze with his. Perhaps he, too, was a monster. A beast, attracted to his own kind. She didn't know. His name. That's what she did know. How long had she known him?

It doesn't matter, a voice whispered in her head. She felt as though she'd known him for years. What did it matter if his name was the only thing she knew of him? She could spend an eternity with him and his name and be happy. She knew it.

She wanted Eric. He didn't linger in mirrors and dreams. No, he was different. She could feel it sinking into her skin, his feeling drenching, coating and drying onto her bones. He didn't see her as a photograph, a fancy dress, a murderer, a freak...

Or a monster.

Right? Otherwise he wouldn't be here? Right? Right? Right? It was in desperation she forced herself to believe it of him. He had to. And for that, she desired him. Her hunger rumbled at her lips, reaching for his mouth, and her finger tips, clawing at his shirt, looking for what lay underneath his layers. His hands followed her lead-or perhaps she was following his-and slid up her back, following her spine with his fingertips until he found her zipper, so he could begin fumbling with it.

All else forgotten, Lethe allowed it to happen, sure her heart was falling into synchronization with his-or hoping that he was just as anxious as her. That they were lying in a bathtub in the Capitol was irrelevant. That she were a Victor and he, a Capitol waiter-who cared? That this could certainly mean scandal if found out-whatever!

It wasn't the alcohol that bound their lips to each the other's. Right? No, it had to be something more. It had to be! Lethe refused to believe anything else, lying under the weight of this excellent man. There was something else underneath it all. And she would find it-later. Now, all that mattered was their passionate kisses, reaching hands, comforting warmth, hunger in a perfect balance with each other. She didn't fight. She didn't scream. She wanted this. So much.

And so, Lethe Turner allowed it to happen, wrapped up against Eric Rhodes, elation inflating her stomach like a balloon, allowing herself to believe this meant something. Sparks were flying and she and Eric were together, a whirlwind of lips, hands, and passion...fading to black...together... [/color][/blockquote][/size]

[∂αмєη]

[4E484C] [839979] [E2FFF1]

Did anything else matter? Even if it did, the pounding in my head might just help with ignoring it. As of yet, nothing else except the soft and warm sensation of her lips against mine was noticeable. And then there was the feeling of her hands as our fingers intertwined and the feeling of her soft skin as I raised my other hand to her face. A strand of hair was pushed back ever so slightly as I pulled away to catch my breath. It seemed like we were both struggling to fill our lungs. She probably was because the kiss was unexpected and out of nowhere. I was gasping for air because she managed to take my breath away with ease. A smile crossed my face before I bring my lips forward once more, lightly brushing them against her's. All my senses seemed to be dull. Not much made sense except that I was kissing a girl and that girl was Lethe Turner. Did anything else matter?

Clearly, it didn't. And nothing else really would matter. The alcohol was kicking in even more now and I was barely conscious of the decisions I was making. How was I acting with such courage when usually, I can't even kill a spider without needing somebody cheering me on? My fingers began to dance along her skin, tracing a pattern as I took advantage of this alcohol induced bravery. Each move I made seemed so slow and the pleasure of kissing her was twice as strong as I had ever imagined it would be. Running each finger along her spine, I arrived at the metallic zipper just as her fingers pulled at my shirt. Do you really want to do this? That wasn't the question. Even if I was the nerdiest white kid anybody has ever met, I was a hormonal teenager. The question was if I could do this.

And I would never know unless I tried, right? Pulling the zipper down was what started it all. Started everything that I never imagined could happen. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else ever would. Who knows if in that moment, I was falling for Lethe in some way. The alcohol was obviously causing all of my emotions to build up. Everything was being multiplied by two and coming even harder. So it was safe to assume that I wasn't falling in love with this girl. But could there be something between us? The sparks that seemed to fly whenever our lips touched wasn't because of the alcohol or anything else. It was entirely different. And each and every thing that followed wasn't because of the alcohol. It was because I wanted to. And clearly, Lethe did too. And that's why it continued even further. Until the alcohol wasn't the only thing that was dulling or senses. The pleasure added onto it too.

And it was as if everything faded to black.

"Sweetheart? Wake up. Now." Her voice was demanding. It would be difficult to detect any trace of love and care. Instead, it seemed like she was doing this because it was a job and not because she wanted to. "We can leave without saying bye, if that's what you want." So I pushed myself up to a sitting position and wiped my eyes clean. My mother stood nearby my bed, her eyes following my every move. Her hand was wrapped around the strap of her bag and her foot was tapping against the floor due to her being impatient. "Wait what?" She smiled her normal grin, showing off the nearly perfect teeth that she always bragged about. Mother was clearly leaving to another meeting again. She always left with Father and then apologized later. Today was different. Nobody was ever there for me through the night. Nobody ever stayed.

Was I even worth staying for?

Pain. Saying 'ow, my head really hurts' would have been such an understatement. Every single move I made with my head sent another wave of pain down my whole body. Every muscle in my neck felt like it was torn to shreds and my whole body felt dead. A weird taste lingered in my mouth and I tried my best to ignore it. To ignore everything that felt out of place. Trying to move up, I realized that she was there. She was still with me. My left arm was underneath her and my right one was wrapped gently around her, keeping our bodies close together. Pressing my mouth against the top of her head, I smiled, taking in the smell of whatever she used to clean her hair. It was a struggle to look around the room, but I did anyways. And although it took a while to place where I was, I understood that I was still in the bathtub.

My clothes were drenched. What was left of my clothing, at least. Sometime between what we did and passing out, I managed to get back into my dress pants and my undershirt. Both were holding more water than the shower tub currently was. What happened? I had absolutely no idea what truly happened between Lethe and I. The memories were nothing but a blur. Which kind of sucked. All I remembered was being close. Feeling things. Feeling her heart beating so closely to mine. "Hey. Wake up sweetheart. We should get you home soon." I didn't want to ever leave her. Staying too long could wind up bad, though. Who knows if the people who run the newspapers were standing outside. So it was best to just leave each other for now.

This wouldn't be the last time we would see each other, though. It couldn't be. All these feelings that I now felt wouldn't just go away. Whatever happened had happened and we couldn't forget about it. I couldn't even remember it, though. Which may have been a good thing. Keeping it on the down low would be the best for now. If anybody found out, both of our lives could be ruined. "Come on Lethe. I'll walk you to where you're staying."

[Rosetta]

Lethe Turner

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Here, the world was still. It passed through her and on with its path. She could feel it on her fingertips, but it was never truly there. Nothing was truly there. She was standing, ankle-deep, in a pool of white, fog shimmering all around her. Her feet weren’t wet though, just cool. In this clear, white land , Lethe felt…not at ease, but odd. As if she shouldn’t be here. Like she belonged somewhere else.

And she wasn’t alone either. She heard their voices, drifting out of the fog. Soft, whispering words she couldn’t quite catch. They danced around her, just over her head, too high for her to catch. Despite this, frustration didn’t fill her gut. Only worry. She shouldn’t be here, she shouldn’t be here, she shouldn’t be here.

It wasn’t long before they started appearing. I know this dream, she realized. She knew their faces. They slid by her, people she knew. Their names came as swiftly as their blank faces, only hints of smirks playing behind their lips. Seah, Razor, Anya, Saskia. Even the blind girl could see with wide eyes, who was in front of her. In the wrong place.

She’d done something wrong, hadn’t she?

She knew it. Something was out of place. They pranced around her, no words, just steely gazes, knowing smiles. She couldn’t speak. Her tongue wouldn’t move, her throat wouldn’t form the words. She just allowed them to flock her, like vultures, allowing her shame to wash over her in deep, cold waves. However, soon, their smirks were gone, as their bodies moved away and their whispering went on again, once they were out of her sight. Their voices rose up around her, soft and elusive, still just beyond her reach. They were gone.

But, there was something more. Lethe found herself wading through the water, moving forward. There was something more…she’d been here before…Slowly, she lowered her head downwards and screamed. And screamed and screamed, her eyes rolling in her head, her mouth wide, throat burning.

In the water was a shimmering girl, with blonde hair, wide, green eyes and the shadow of scars on her cheeks. On her hands was scarlet blood, dripping off of her fingers, falling with drip drops. And that’s what was making Lethe shriek so. Fall to her knees and shriek until her throat was raw.

For the blood wasn’t her’s.

"Hey. Wake up sweetheart. We should get you home soon."

Home? Wasn’t she home? Snuggled deep in her bed, knowing that it was just a nightmare…just a nightmare…why was she still covered in water then? And where was her dress? And oh, why did her head ache so much?

Cracking her eyes open took more effort than she realized. The sudden light made her head ache even more until she was almost groaning. Someone’s hands were on her, his lips close to her. "Come on Lethe. I'll walk you to where you're staying." Her heart skipped a beat, and although jerking upward brought her even more pain, she did it anyway. It was that boy. Eric. He was there with her. They were lying in the bathtub and god, where was her dress?! What had happened? It was hard to tell and it left her head, reeling and her sick to her stomach. Snatching up the dress, which was bunched up at her feet, Lethe scrambled into it. It was soaking wet and uncomfortable, but she didn’t care. She wanted to be covered.

Ignoring Eric’s kind words, Lethe skittered away from him like a wounded animal, pulling herself out of the tub, dangled from his body. She didn’t like this! She didn’t like this one bit! What had happened? And why? And more importantly, who knew? Photographers could be right around the bend, to witness Lethe Turner, soaking wet, hair awry, make-up running down her face, having obviously done something she’d regret in a bathtub with a boy she hardly knew!

Stomach tightening and head in so much agony, Lethe swallowed hard and tried to take a deep breath to clear the panic from her lungs, but it did nothing of the sort. Something was licking her ankles. Camalia! Finally, someone familiar. She needed to take Camalia and leave. Yes, leave. Now.

Bending down, hastily, Lethe scooped up Camalia, only to rise to a vision-blackening head rush. She staggered for a minute, flashes of the night before playing in her mind. So many little glasses of alcohol. The bathtub. His hands, reaching up towards the zipper of her dress and her hands unbuttoning his shirt…Lethe backed up, Camalia wiggling in her hands, staring at Eric in horror. Oh, god, no…that couldn’t have happened. What was wrong with her?

She needed to go. Now. Muttering something unintelligent and inaudibly, Lethe grabbed her shoes from the floor to prepare to leave. She didn’t think. She didn’t realize the consequences. She didn’t think it through. Didn’t think about what she was doing. No, she turned on her heel and fled, trying to rid this night from her memory, from her head.

Lethe Turner fled from Eric Rhodes.

Lethe Turner fled from an exhilarating, but embarrassing experience, believing she’d left it all back in that bathtub with Eric.

Lethe Turner believed she’d fled from it, but really, it was only just beginning. Growing inside of her.

Alive. [/color][/blockquote][/size]

[∂αмєη]

[4E484C] [839979] [E2FFF1]

This is how my life has been. For the past few years, I've had the chance to get used to this process. Give and take and take and take and take. I give all that I can give and they take all that they can take but do I ever receive? Not often. Maybe once in a while I get something to make up for all of the things I do for others. Still, I could only count them on one hand. I would only need two fingers even. That's just how my life is. And what made it worse was that she seemed to be different. She seemed to be somebody who was a lot more understanding. After all, she wasn't exactly the most normal amongst us. Some people would call her a horrible person or a monster. I thought she was amazing. I thought she was different. Boy was I wrong.

Opening myself up has always been the hardest part. There aren't many people in the world who can say that they know I am on the inside. Sure, people know that I am nerdy and really smart and kind of a perfectionist. That's written on my forehead practically. Most don't know the true me, the one that's a little bit deeper than everything else. It's not their fault though. It isn't normal to dig that deep when somebody's preventing you. I rarely open myself up enough to have a conversation with somebody. Unless I'm working for them, I try to refrain from actually investing myself into a situation because it will only turn out poorly for me in the end. Opening myself up is without a doubt the toughest part because when you open up, you can get hurt. And when you get hurt, you start to have regrets. And really, that's the last thing I need.

My life has been set out in front of me like a map. The path that I decided to take was definitely a tough one and the hypothetical branches often got in my way. But I'd get through it eventually. Regrets were things that kept you from leaving. How could I focus on my future when I was too caught up about the past? Some people live in the moment. I tried to. And then I started to excel and I started to do really well in everything. Life was handed to me on a silver platter and while most people take it and say thank you and move on with their life, I knew I was better than that. It's not that I'm cocky. I just know that gold would be better. If I kept at what I was bound to do, I would be successful and happy and everything would come to me. But of course, there's always an issue. When it's too good to be true, it's obviously not true. And so, it's as if a mountain appeared on my map. A mountain that I'd never be able to climb by myself.

Who would be around to help me? Evidently nobody. My parents lacked the consistency to be there. I mean, they obviously love me. That's why they work their butts off. They want to insure that I have an amazing life even if I did end up failing. Maybe they were my safety net in life. Sometimes I'd need them to fall back on. Still, I needed somebody to help me up the mountain and not somebody to catch me when I fell. Friends? Psh, I haven't had a true friend since first grade. Girlfriends? It's probably obvious that I'm not exactly great with that department. Family? No siblings and no cousin to count upon when I need them. My academic life may be nearly perfect. Yes, I'm a genius. Yes, I'm sure to have the rest of my education paid for with scholarships or thanks to my parents. The social aspect sucked though.

For a moment, I actually believed she liked me. Now, I feel like an idiot for even starting to think that. She seemed so interested in me and hey, she was the one who kissed me first. And then whatever happened had happened. I'd like to imagine that she doesn't do that with everybody. I definitely don't. She was my first for many things. I shared my first kiss with her, my first night with a girl and the first time I've ever been that intimate. She was also the first person to break my heart in a way. Love? No. I didn't love her. Not after one night. Maybe I liked her or felt attracted to her but I definitely wasn't in love with somebody who I just met, even if we had...you know. But she did break my heart. She broke it because she made me feel like somebody could actually be interested in me. Really though, she didn't even stay long enough to to explain.

What would she say? What could she say? "Oh yeah, I'm sorry that I have to run. I probably won't call you because this was a mistake and we both know that but we'll never really admit it." Was that what it would be like? It wouldn't surprise me if she thought it was a mistake. I did. But I'm glad that it happened. Everybody makes mistakes and sometimes, they need to happen for the good of others. That's just the way life is. My life, her life, everybody's life. Mistakes are a part of life because they help us learn what's right and what's wrong. I'm glad that this certain mistake happened. Now I know to never have sex with somebody in a bathtub after you just met them. I wasn't even invited to the party either! Cleaning up after she made a mess was my job. Wow, my idea of cleaning up must be pretty screwed up.

There was a possibility that lingered in the back of my mind. It was something I never wanted to think of. No, not now. I really didn't want for this to happen. I barely even knew the specifics of protection, let alone actually having it with me. Maybe she was on one of those pills that they sell at the store. Hopefully she was. That possibility was definitely pretty dramatic and it was one that I really wanted to avoid. How could I follow the map of my life if I was a father? So, let's just say that it did happen. Do I head back to university in four years and hope that they'll take me back so I can finish my education and so I can actually amount to something? My father waited because he wanted to have a future before a family. Sure, he was a horrible father. I've accepted that he wasn't ever the best. I didn't want to be as bad as him because I wasn't able to provide the best life. I didn't want to be a father.

But it's okay. I wouldn't be. Everything's fine. Yeah, sure. That's what I'll tell myself. Whatever works, you know? Part of me wanted to see her again. Part of me wanted to run out of the bathroom and to chase after her. The other part knew that was stupid. She was going to be heading home soon. Another year of the Hunger Games would come around eventually and she'd be back. But she wouldn't care to see me. Of course not. I was a mistake. I was an error. I was the one thing that she had at night that stayed until the morning. The effects of the alcohol didn't. Her clothes evidently didn't. And well, there was one other thing that she no longer had either. But it really didn't matter that I stayed. She was gone. Lethe would never see me again. That idea both scared me and made me happy at the same time.

But no matter what happened, I'd remember tonight. At least the important parts. Everything else still remained a blur. Even if I tried to deny it, I would always know that Lethe would hold a place in my heart. Would it last? Who knows. I could tell that there some feelings because of the ache that remained and because of the static I felt when we touched. Who knows if it would become more than just an attraction. Only time would tell. Maybe I'd get another shot. Maybe I'd get a chance to see her once again. To hold her hands and to kiss her lips and to tell her that I loved what we shared and that I'd love to have a stronger relationship with her. I didn't care about more of what we did. That wasn't a necessity. I just wanted to spend more time with her and to maybe work on getting to know her first.

My mind was definitely flip flopping. It was hard to tell if there was a for sure decision formulating or not. Did I care about her? Did I just want to forget? I guess I'd never know until I saw her once again. Until I could let everything out and see how she felt. Maybe that was what I needed. Maybe that would solve my problems. So I pushed myself out of the tub and fixed my shirt before grabbing the suit jacket and heading out into the hall. Down the elevator and out into the cold winter day. Perhaps she was still around and she hadn't left yet. That was what I hoped for, at least. Out of the alleyway and into the busy street that the building backed on to. And when I saw the crowd, I knew there was no point in wishing that she was still around. They were all news reporters, waiting to see if she came out the door. She was surely gone by now. They'd never find her. I'd never find her.

And so I left to my home, shiver all the while because of my soaking wet clothes. My head was hurting and all my thoughts were jumbled. Nothing made sense. Nothing was bright and great like it usually was. Funny how I left to work in a cheerful mood and returned with a frown on my face. It's because she ripped your heart out. There was no point denying it. I liked Lethe Turner. I liked her and that was just the beginning. But she didn't care.

Great. This could only mean danger.