I'm Not Afraid [private, Misery]

[Wisteria !?]

IMOGENE SOMERSET

The visions filling my mind would’ve confused anyone -- except me. The small, delicate and multicolored bubbles filled the air, along with the screams of the men and women in the room. The sense of calm filled my mind as the memory ate me alive. The day may have been the single most important day of my being -- the day when I lost my hand to the explosion. Chemicals are dangerous. I’ve learned this the hard way. Sighing, reality floated back towards me as I took in the rather bright scene of the chemical lab around me. The multiple men and women surrounding me reminded me of an asylum -- a mental ward. Taking a deep breath was even hard because of the strong fumes that us scientists -- practicing or professional, were used to. I glared down at my missing hand as the memory once again engulfed my mind. The visions around me danced before my eyes, as my younger self walked hand-in-hand with my parents towards the lab with an exciting look on my face. If I could’ve only been able to tell her to stop -- maybe I’d still have my hand today. The cold surfaces around me reminded me of the doctor’s office, and for a split second I wondered how I could’ve felt comfortable in there in the first place. I needed to leave, and fast. I turned around on my heels and darted out the doors, seemingly breaking back into the fresh color of reality rather than the dull visions behind me.

“Oh Panem help me now,” I pleaded in a low voice, my dark blonde hair cascading in light waves around my shoulders. How would I handle another catastrophe in the district six? What if more children were involved? Lives were lost the day of the previous explosion, and I was lucky to have only lost a hand of mine. Now I sit and hide it in the pocket of my short pants, waiting until the day where luck would finally strike.

[Misery]

"Dearest Jane, I should've known better
But I couldn't say hello, I don't know why
But now I think, I think you were sad
Yes you were, you were, you were"

Saying | Thinking | Hearing | Doing

District 6's summers were a bit much to ask for, and normal people were usually found taking refuge indoors. Children played in the streets when they did not have school. It was now that most adults took a liking to work because it offered an escape from the sweltering heat outside. The bright sun was especially crippling for me when I went outside. Normal UV block didn't help protect my skin as it usually did, so I had to constantly re-apply it. My new pair of sunglasses that I had acquired through questionable means thanks to a beggar in the poorer section of the district were, thankfully, adequate. They would be used quite a lot today, as I did not have a working position to fill today. I, Whisper Dahlman, had no place to be. No work to complete, no observations to run. Today, I would do battle with the elements and wander the streets of District 6. I only hoped that I wouldn't find trouble.

Chattering voices filled the somewhat-empty streets as I made my way towards the markets, taking care to not stray far from the awnings that shaded my skin. There was little I was required to do today, so I decided to go and see what was being sold – perhaps I would find a good deal and take home a nice meal for later. My mind settled on the idea of having a satisfying treat for supper with my parents, something that wasn't very common in my house; Usually, we just ate a bland meal of processed foods because they were cheaper and more practical to buy than the imported fruits from District 11.

“Excuse me, sir,” I paused behind an old man who was struggling to carry a package of cylinders. They must be some sort of container for medicines. He turned his head and looked at me from over his shoulder and quickly scurried out of my way.
“My apologies, madam! Please, I'm extremely sorry,” the grandfather sputtered, “My district welcomes you kindly!”
His district welcomed me kindl– Oh! He thought I was a Capitol citizen. I hated when that happened. Normally, people shot dirty looks from across the street and then acted kind to me once I was near them. Nobody seemed to understand that I was born and raised here from birth.
“No, no, it's my fault. I just need the shade,” I replied quickly and gestured to the jutting metal sheet that covered our heads. The man did a double-take at my local accent and did nothing but nod and continue. I hurried on, not wanting to linger in the heat for too long.

Taking a shortcut through an alleyway, I discovered I had taken the wrong street and ended up near a chemical testing facility. I would have to backtrack. This tended to happen to me since I spent a majority of my time indoors and not roaming the district. This street was mostly abandoned and I assumed everyone who would be around were already inside working, sweating away over various test tubes and vats of liquid. I turned swiftly around and started heading in the opposite direction, back to where I had come from when I heard a door swish open and close, footsteps flying out from behind.
For a moment, I was terrified that someone is about to mug me. I closed my eyes in anticipation for some unknown assailant to grab my arms and shove a weapon to my head, but nothing came. My shoulders relaxed and I let breath flow out my mouth is a soft huff.

“Oh, Panem help me now.” a distraught voice cried softly, so softly I was unsure if I had heard correctly. I wheeled around to find a girl, appearing to be my age, sitting spread-eagle against the concrete wall of a building. Perhaps she was an intern like I, needing an escape from the pressures of her laboratory. I knew that feeling well. Constant failure awaited me in my laboratory where I carefully located genetic variation within DNA, where my eyes could barely handle a microscope for one minute. I knew I was doomed for a life of uselessness in the near future, and like this girl I frequently burst out, dismissed coldly by a supervisor.
Biting her lip, this girl looked up upon me and took in everything – my white hair, my dark glasses, my eyes averting their gaze almost instantly after catching a burst of light from the sun out of the girls' unnaturally reflective grey-blue eyes. I had only locked gaze with her for a moment, but I could tell she was beautiful. Her eyes were like mine, unique in that they did not contain the typical brown-grey of our district but a more exotic colour.

Haff haff came her breaths, quick and sudden. She was hyperventilating for whatever reason. Scared? Overwhelmed? Something had happened wherever she had come from. It was probably not serious, but since I was in a chemical area a twinge of worry struck a chord within my brain. Hopefully another accident had not occurred. I shuddered to think of horror stories my parents whispered about at night, telling of blindness, crippling, and death that befell spills and accidental mixing of elements that should not be mixed.

“Are – are you alright?” my voice bursts through my teeth more worried than I had intended. The girl is clearly upset, but trying to hide it. Maybe she was having a panic attack? I kneeled down, not yet wanting to offer her my hand.
“Did anything happen?” I continued to ask, “Anything serious? Or do you just need some. . . time? I um, understand if you might. I – ah, tend to have problems in my laboratory as well.”