Drumming Noise//Inside My Head {Cass}

[Rosetta]

Ariadne

“I am so so sorry.”

Blood on her hands. Blood in his mouth. His blood on her hands.

“I’m so sorry, Greg.”

The moon was high in the sky, a glowing orb, the only witness as the thin, dark-haired girl pulled her bag across her shoulders, looping her arms gracefully through the straps and slowly rose to her feet. His gentle breathing lulled her, but it didn’t hide the guilt, didn’t allow it to escape, but sealed it with water vapor, deep within her. Yet, Ariadne still turned away, tears in her eyes.

She was slipping down side streets, thinking she’d saved him, thinking it was okay, thinking the days spent floating on thin ice, waiting for it to break were over.

He was better off without her.

With slow, measured steps, Ariadne slipped back towards the forest, out of the clearing where she left his sleeping figure. However, just before she passed the first tall, brown, rugged tree, she placed a firm hand on the back and glanced over her shoulder. His tall figure was curled up on the hard-packed ground, every so often, his pale skin being thrown into glowing, yellow light as fireflies fluttered down to him, just kissing his skin. He might smile at them when he woke up, but then his face would fall when he saw her empty space, in its place a message carved into the dirt with long, careful strokes.

Good luck, Greg.

Love, Ariadne.

Maybe he’d fall back into disbelief, laughing if he had a tongue, if Ariadne hadn’t cut it out, believing her to be out gathering berries or something. Hadn’t she gone to all the trouble to coming to the Capitol after him? She wouldn’t just disappear like this. Oh, Greg, she would.

Night would soon fall again, slinking over the clearing and he would desperately gaze at that message again until he couldn’t, red eyes unblinking. It wouldn’t immediately comprehend in his mind. He’d stare at those words until they became nothing but mere scratches and scribbles and he’d wait. But, she wouldn’t return. He’d be flustered, knees drawn up to his chest, staring hard at the ground as if it held the answer. Maybe he’d even cry. But, then, he’d get up and he’d move. He’d walk, for he had legs to do so and he’d make it somewhere. Some District. He’d settle down. Maybe find a girl. Perhaps even have children.

And settled into this comfortable life, a beautiful woman in his bed, even more beautiful children running around his yard laughing, he’d realize that life without Ariadne wasn’t so bad. In fact, it was a safer life. A happier life.

Ariadne pushed through the brush, using more force than she realized she had in her thin, trembling hands. It was over. Greg was gone, or rather Ariadne was gone. And that’s the way she liked it. The way she wanted it. No one to hurt.

Ariadne was the only one hurting. Like she’d swallowed thistles and they were cutting up her stomach, destroying her from the inside out, eating her away, guilt was acid and it was burning holes right through her. And no amount of throwing it back up would destroy it and she might as well not swallow any more acid.

The morning was close when Ariadne finally stopped. By a tiny pond. Lily ponds floated on the murky green surface, serene and calm. The hum of mosquitoes filled Ariadne’s ears as she lay back on the soft grass next to the pond and dangled her toes in the cold pond, staring at the azure blue sky. The delicate atmosphere did little to calm her as she clasped her short hair and groaned, internal pain sweeping up and down her body. Pain for what she did, pain for leaving, pain for being selfish, pain for hurting him, pain, pain, pain. It beat down deep inside of her, some demon heart that with each throb, sent waves of agony through her body, waves of lack of self-forgiveness and it created hard lumps in her throat, an ache behind her eyes and a consistent churning in her stomach and it wasn’t going away. She hated herself.

“Dammit, when will this stop hurting?” Ariadne heard herself moan out.

She half expected Greg's voice to suddenly chime in and respond to her in his calming way.

But, then she remembered.

He was an Avox. All because of her.

[/color][/blockquote]

[cass]

Listen to the wind blow
Look inside - what does it show
Time passing so very slow...I see
All the tears, all the pain
Echo's of the past still the same

-- TiRain

Purpose in her life had left and in its place sat an empty hole, because there was nothing there, as there was no reason for her to be in this world. It was only the spirits that she connected herself with that kept her alive. There was no other reason why this old lady still wondered such a dreadful world. She didn’t want to be there, but the spirits that bound themselves around her soul forbid otherwise, so she stayed restless and aching for the release only death could give her.

She didn’t know how much longer she would have to wait. She had already been waiting ninety years. Was that not long enough? She though it was. The old spiritual leader hated life, she had been banished from the people she called family, she had been sent out into the cold to defend for herself, to care and protect herself. She was fucking ninety years old; did they think she was young and fit? Did they see a healthy young person? Well, they were obvious idiots. This lady was old, each movement she did ached, and now she was stuck in the bush looking after herself. Fuck them all.

”The bitches think they can just ditch me. Well we’ll see when they all come screaming when the spirits come.” She grumbles as her feet take yet another painful step over the forest floor. She felt blind, each step draining her. She could barely see the world in front of her; the trees seemed to blend together with the sky, as well as all the bushes and plants, everything around her was just one big blur. No matter where she looked the world was a smear; she couldn’t define anything around her. TiRain had lost her glasses.

TiRain’s hand runs over the bark of a nearby tree. It was rough beneath her old calloused fingers, but it was familiar, the tight bound ripples of the wood, were prominent. As her hand moves over the bark she pauses, pursing her lips, a sticky substance clung to her fingers and a ghost of a grin crossed her lips. It was a pine tree. She knew the folds in the wood better than anyone, she knew each individual tree, leaf and plant in this whole god damn forest, and yet she could do nothing to make her way past the interweaving vines, branches and trunks that littered the floor.

She still found herself crashing into the branches, stumbling and falling. It was annoying her a lot. Her feet were tired and sore, her body ached for a rest and she had no idea where she was, but she was following her spirit guides. They told her to move, they told her to walk so she did. All her life she had been told to follow the voices that called in her mind, she had taught so many the way to speak to them and handle them. She had lead her tribe with their help. But where were they now? The little shits were gone. The spirits were in me, they were bound to the very depths of my soul, they were everything I was.

“Dammit, when will this stop hurting?” The voice floats over each branch and tree towards the old ancient lady. She pauses for a moment and listens to the sweet voice. There was nothing innocent about it. There was a dangerous edge to that sweet tone. TiRain loved it. It was the same as she had once been sweet, but deadly. She moves closer to the direction that the voice had come from, using it as an anchor to her every step.

”Hello sweetheart.” She says stepping into a small opening between the trees that enclosed her. TiRain turned herself towards a blurry figure that she assumed was the girl. Or a tree. She wasn’t sure. “Nothing ever stops hurting, when we have done wrong. It will always be there.” She says answering the girl with a smirk. For it was what TiRain did. Her usually snarky comments were on hold for the moment as she took in what she thought to be a girl. Or was it the tree? There was too many god damned trees! She frowns slightly, and lets out an exasperated sight.

”Has anyone ever told you that you look like a tree?”

For hope, peace and love what do they say?
The Gods of time, are they yours or mine
I'm in your heart, feel me
I'm in your soul, believe in me
Open your eyes and you will see me

[Rosetta]

Ariadne

The rich hues of brown and green, blending into one, filled her up as the sharp scent of pine, oak and wildflowers curled her into its fragrant cocoon. Cool grass poked up around her body, accepting her imprint and the cold water was smooth in between her calm toes. On toddler legs, she might've stood and ran, laughing before leaping right into the pond, letting the water devour her. She'd open her eyes to the murky, swirling brown, taking the first shock of cold and then letting it settle into warmth, soothing tired, rough skin.

But, she was not a toddler, not as carefree, but rather a tense, young woman, barely out of her teenage years, a foolish sixteen year old who did not know a thing about people, believing it all to just be the forest.

The forest was a listener and so, she spoke to it.

And it answered back.

She leapt up when she heard the first words, heart jolting and completely missed what the first words spoke were. All she heard were the last words spoke to her.

"Has anyone ever told you that you look like a tree?"

"I do not!"

It was her immediate reaction, a fiery one, sparks flying from her mouth, eyes narrowing. That's when she saw who had spoken and the sight evaporated her anger. It was an old woman. An old woman far too old to dare to be out here. Unless, she, like Ariadne, had been here all her life.

Many a times, Ariadne had imagined herself living out here all her life, gathering pine needles for beds, building a tree house and even in old age, bracing herself against arthritic pains and scaling it. She saw herself bathing in rivers, letting her hair grow long again, just to cut it all off and scattering it around the forest for birds to pick up and use for their nest. She would fling herself down into fields of dandelions and watch the clouds. She always imagined speaking to someone else, living her life out with another, cozy up in that tree house, sipping mint tea, matching the songs of birds with whistles and at night, joining the cool grass for some star gazing. Outside the Districts, stars were brighter, not just mere holes of light in the black fabric, but bright, tinkling tears, beautiful pictures. Once she even saw a shooting star, but then, her wish had been spent on a new javelin that she never got.

If she could have just one wish out of all in the world, she'd wish for Greg back, whole and free. Free from her? Or a life in silence? That, she didn't know.

Unlike Redge whom she had grudgingly accepted as a companion before discarding, Greg had been her friend and once or twice, she saw his pale face in her tree house, red eyes squeezing themselves shut in glee as he sipped his mint tea and she laughed at her own story, the one she was telling him excitedly. And he'd laugh and nod. He was a listener which was why he'd fit so well in her forest.

Of course, she never imagined he'd be a listener all his life.

Perhaps this old woman was like her, a dreamer, who lived out in the forest all her life. Perhaps she wasn't like her and she had a companion that she hadn't let go. Or maybe she was just like her and had let her companion go anyway. Ariadne eyed her suspiciously. What secrets did she hold behind the age? Some might think youth was more mischievous, more secretive, but it was easier to hide secrets behind withered skin and liver spots than smooth, unpuckered, unblemished skin.

"Are you alone?" Ariadne asked, the question hanging heavily on her mind, glancing warily at the woman's wrinkled hands, brittle in old age, at her lined skin, marked with years of experience. Or maybe she was just marked with age, a hollow mass that had learned nothing. Maybe that was where Ariadne was heading. A hollow mass of yellow skin, far too big for her bones, so that it sagged and she could pinch it and pull it, but not remove this sinful skin. And all she would have bouncing around inside of her would be guilt, searing her organs, increasing her heart rate.

And maybe she'd die this way and they'd find her alone in that tree house, clutching to nothing, no one, her sorrys still painted on her lips.

[/blockquote][/size]

[cass]

Listen to the wind blow
Look inside - what does it show
Time passing so very slow...I see
All the tears, all the pain
Echo's of the past still the same

TIRAIN.

A long time ago, I once stood at the tallest branch of a tree. It was over fifty meters tall and holding my breath I began to edge myself out, each second I would pause taking in another breath and holding it as I moved further out into the open and out above the world. I didn’t look down; to look down would make me fall. But the words of encouragement down below made me just glance and suddenly the world was spinning. I let out a gasp as the branch shook and I swayed from side to side desperately trying to keep my balance.

A startled yelp escaped my lips as I spun and tried to walk, run, flail back to the stronger part of the branch. As the branch cracked, I leapt and my hands grabbed tightly around the thicker and safer part of the branch. I closed my eyes tightly, hoping I would not fall. As seconds paced I opened my eyes a fraction, a bit more and more until they were wide open. A small smirk crossed my lips as I pushed myself upwards to stand once more on the now broken branch. I took another shaky breath, my heart was beating so very fast, but I had to do this, for me, to prove to all of them that I was brave and not stupid, to prove to them all that I could be with them and be there friends and that I was more than just the spirit guides daughter.

Shakily I climbed higher up the tree to a new branch, and tentatively I moved out along it, creeping forward until I was in the middle. Then I heard the crack, I had enough time to scream once before the branches of the tree wrapped themselves around me, but they did not catch me, they let me fall and I screamed. Instinct made me do it and my arm lashed out grabbing hold of the nearest thing. I cried out in pain as I was brought to a shuddering stopped. I felt a loud pop in my arm and I let go as the pain raced through my body. I continued to fall, the ground came closer until I hit it, my back smashing into the pine covered floor. I lay there gasping for air, but none could enter my lungs and fill me.

As I looked at the girl, girl or tree, it was moving so I assumed it was the girl. Her fiery response reminded me of that time, the time where I did something so foolish just to prove myself to a bunch of idiots. The fire in this girls voice reminded me of me and how foolish I was, her words might be brave, but there was an air around her that was filled with vulnerability and a wanting to be free. But in her case, it was not freedom from the burden of her family; it was freedom from the burden she carried. Her previous words struck me as odd and I knew that this girl was not from the Capitol, was not just a simple run away, she had been doing this all her life, she had done bad things.

I sighed. I was tired and my bones ached. I moved my left arm and flinched with pain. I often dislocated that shoulder due to that old injury I had received from falling from that stupid tree. My body groaned with exhaustion and I gently lowered myself to the ground, the pine created a nice cushioning as I sat down, I lend myself against a tree, trying to rid some of the weight from my back. I was ninety years old and moving around this forest and in a way moving altogether was becoming a problem.

”Are you alone?” The girl asked. “No I have a whole blasted army a few feet to your left.” I snapped. I had no patience for silly questions and the cold of the daywas begininnig to make me tire and become more impatient then I already was. “You shouldn’t be out here by yourself, girl. This world isn’t safe.” I grumbled, closing my eyes briefly, before opening them and turning my head to face her once more.

[/color]

For hope, peace and love what do they say?
The Gods of time, are they yours or mine
I'm in your heart, feel me
I'm in your soul, believe in me
Open your eyes and you will see me

[Rosetta]

Ariadne

Ariadne remembered her first day on her own. Her guardian, Asimila, hadn’t yet left. She was preparing to go on, to find something more and it was journey that Ariadne, the girl she’d raised since she’d found her as a baby, wasn’t going to be making. And so, she needed to prepare the girl.

Having lived in the forest since she was a child, Ariadne thought this might be easy. Asimila left her in the early morning in a dew-soaked clearing and promised her they’d meet there again at night. Ariadne was bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement. She could do this. She knew she could! So, when Asimila turned and left Ariadne off on her own, the girl instantly leapt into action. Finding food was easy, building a shelter was easy, finding and heating water was easy. The practical was easy. She knew the forest.

What she wasn’t prepared for was the forest. It was odd, really. She’d grown up in this forest. She’d run barefoot across this grass, she’d scaled those trees, she’d bathed in that river. Yet, she’d always had Asimila beside her to fight away the monsters with adult footsteps. Now, she was alone and the monsters came. They rustled branches and broke twigs and they were behind her, but when she turned, they were gone, quivering shadows. She could hear their rattling breath, taste their sour aura on her tongue. Her palms began to sweat, heart racing and when Asimila returned, she ran into her comforting arms. Please, please, get rid of them.

Over time, the monsters began to fade. Of course, after the Detention Center, the monsters turned into demons with clawing fingers and hot, acrid breath, sweeping across her face, but Ariadne knew the dangers of the woods far better than anyone. It was in these woods that she was captured, tied up and thrown into a hovercraft like trash. She knew the dangers and didn’t need this sassy woman telling her to be careful.

Cocking a hip to the side, Ariadne rolled her eyes at the woman. “You’re telling me to be careful?” She crossed her arms, annoyance swirling just under her skin, tensing her shoulders. “You’re, like, a hundred or something! I mean, c’mon!”

If there was one thing Ariadne hated: it was being lectured. In her sixteen years of life, Ariadne had a lot more to show than most people. Years living in the forest, fantastic adventures with Greg, capture and torture, being forced to torture Greg, befriending Redge and breaking Greg out of his bondage…and leaving him. She had more wrinkles than this woman, most definitely, but they were hidden, much deeper. A lot more painful. Deadly even if she allowed them to spread, like some kind of disease they were. She was a disease.

She eyed the other woman suspiciously, cocking her head to the side. Why was she alone? That’s what she wanted to know. How did she end up about here? Was she a forest-born like Ariadne? Asimila used to tell her that the birds had constructed her, pulling twigs off of trees, building her up from dirt, using bark to construct her face and moss for her eyes. Or had she left her District for some reason?

“Why are you in the forest? Why are you alone?” Ariadne asked, tightening her crossed arms. “And don’t ask me the same thing. I live here…and I wasn’t alone before…I have someone. Or had,” she quickly corrected herself with hardened eyes, “but I’m fine on my own!” She was trying to prove to this woman for some reason that she was a lonely, hermit of a girl. She had friends. Well, she had friends. At one point. A friend. She had a friend. Now, she didn’t.

She was a lonely, hermit of a girl.

Was this woman like her? A lonely, hermit? Or did she have friends? Did people like her? Was she forest-born? Was she made of hollow twigs? Was she just dirt inside? No lungs? No heart? No soul?

Or was that just Ariadne?

[/blockquote]

[cass]

Listen to the wind blow
Look inside - what does it show
Time passing so very slow...I see
All the tears, all the pain
Echo's of the past still the same

TIRAIN.

I had often wondered what the company of those from the surrounding districts would be like. Did they hold onto fears about the fairy tales of the forest? Did they cower at the crackle of a branch? I believed that most would, but there would be some that did not fear anything out here, they were the ones that searched for food and hunted away from the safe haven of their district and when night fell they ran back, there courage not having the ability to hold for so long. I had never had the opportunity to meet such a person, living my life surrounded by those who had grown up with the forest, from watching a young tree grow taller over the passing years to see tens upon tens of generations of animals pass through. Such a little facts have ceased to make much of an impact on me anymore, I prefer solitude these days and when once I would have gone searching for a person to talk to now I scuttle away hoping that no one will come seek me and punish me and my beliefs any further, then they already have been.

I knew from first look that this young girl was one of those. She was one of those lost children searching for something or someone, her earlier words played on my mind, when will this stop hurting. The young girl that stood in front of me hid a secret or many secrets beneath the layer of her soft, fresh skin, they were hidden below a stubbornness and a fear of what she and everyone else would do to her if they found out what she had done. My question had not been meant to offend the girl, her words made me smirk, she wasn’t only hiding something, but she was ignorant of the world around her. ”I was not implying that you can’t look after yourself. I was merely saying that you should not be here by yourself. There are dangerous people around here, who will kill a skinny pathetic tree like you, without hesitation.” I snapped. My people had no qualms in killing anyone who even stepped on their land, be it a tiny child to an old lady like myself, I did not want to see this girl dead.

”And I’m not a hundred!” I scowled, my lips curling in disgust, like all women I hated it when people said such outrageous numbers, believing they can simply guess my age, it offended me that this girl believed that I was a hundred, I looked after myself, I often took the time to soak my face in mud, when I wasn’t lying in my bed unable to move because it is too cold for my old bones. I’m not that old. “I’m ninety, not a hundred, not eighty, I’m ninety.” My words came out quick, flickered with annoyance at this girl lack of a guessing ability as well as ignorance of the world around her. It had been a long time since I had talked so rudely to another person, my usual company was my granddaughter and I was always kind to her, she was perhaps the only person who could get a soft word or small laugh from me.

“Why are you in the forest? Why are you alone?” The girl asked, folding her arms across her chest in such a stubborn manner, that I felt myself once again resembling her to a tree, tall stubborn and proud. “And don’t ask me the same thing. I live here…and I wasn’t alone before…I have someone. Or had.” The ramble of words only made a smile cross my lips, “but I’m fine on my own!” She concluded. I paused for a moment, pretending to take all this in. ”I have no need to explain myself to you.” I said calmly, a yawn escapes my lips making me pause for a brief second. “I’ll tell you why I am here. You tell me why you are here. How does that sound?” I smirked. ”You tell me why you had someone. What did you do to them?” As the words left my mouth I realised how true they were, if this girl had someone, then where were they?

For hope, peace and love what do they say?
The Gods of time, are they yours or mine
I'm in your heart, feel me
I'm in your soul, believe in me
Open your eyes and you will see me

[Rosetta]

Ariadne

Ariadne had always loved to talk. When she first met Greg, she hadn't allowed him to get a word in. Asimila used to her chide her on it. On her flapping lips and vibrating throat. And Ariadne would laugh.

"There's so much to talk about," she'd say in her old foolish way, laughing her fool's laugh. She was a little girl. A stupid little girl.

However, her foolish words still rang true, ding donging in her head, reverberating across her skull and she couldn't escape them. There was so much to talk about.

"My name is Ariadne. I was left here in the forest as a baby. I was left a blanket with someone's initials on it. Asimila found me and brought me up. She's gone now and I went on a stupid adventure to find out who my parents really are. I met Greg in District Ten. He agreed to help me find my parents. Except, we ran into a little problem...his dad killed his mom. Greg is a bastard. His real father is somewhere in the Capitol, I think. So, I guess we have that in common. He doesn't know who his father is and neither do I. Along with my mom. I think for him it was more of shock, you know. He'd lived all his life thinking the wrong person was his father. Asimila told me right off the bat that she wasn't my mother. That was I abandoned and-I guess I'm getting off track.

We were captured somewhere near District Seven, I think. They took us into this hovercraft and it was dark...and scary and the cells were worse. It was the most disgusting, it was the most-it was the darkest, I mean, place in the world and even him being there couldn't make me feel any better. I felt terrible, you know. It was my fault he was here. I'd dragged him out into the wilderness. But, what happened next is what will...I guess, haunt me forever...

They interrogated us. Well, he did. This big terrible Peacekeeper and he touched me and he forced this...this knife into my hand...he said Greg had killed his mother and he hadn't! I saw the entire thing. He didn't do it, but Greg and I both knew they would never believe us. So, he handed me this knife and pushed me towards Greg. Greg was to be Avoxed...all...all because of me...and I didn't want to do it and I begged the Peacekeeper, but he made me anyway...

His blood...oh god, it was so warm on my hands and I couldn't stop crying when they forced me from the interrogation room and I thought I'd never see him again...

Of course, I found someone else. I found Redge. He wanted to find his sister. I told him to take me to the Capitol. We found Greg and he agreed to come with us. We ditched Redge-I wanted to...Anyway...I thought everything would be alright now, but just the other night, I was staring at Greg. He was asleep, you know...

He was an Avox. He'd never be able to speak again. All because of me. And here we were, again hiding out. What if we were caught again? They would surely kill him...and I couldn't do that to him...I couldn't...I messed him up...I couldn't do that. I pointed a stick to the nearest District. And I left...I couldn't do it anymore...it's time for me to only screw up myself. That's what happened."

The words could so easily come pouring from her mouth, so ready, so sure, so right, and they welled up into her throat, thick, but they stopped just short of her taut lips. She couldn't stay that. She couldn't tell the truth. It was a ghost, tightening its white fingers around her throat and her tongue was no longer there, torn out by a rusty scalpel.

It was tearing her apart. Ariadne was a dead girl, eyes scooped out, groping about blindly, so dead, so heart-wrenchingly dead, just listening for the beat of her heart, the beat of her stone cold heart, that never beat for anyone. And her stomach was churn most unpleasantly and her skin was hot and red, trying to sweat it out, clawing fingers on her skin, but this truth wasn't hidden in water or blood. It was deep within her bones and against it, Ariadne pushed and pressed, arching her back against sudden waves of pain, sending her into a hunched over position in front of this woman, as if her question had caused it. It was Ariadne's fault. She'd asked first.

"I-I," the girl stuttered out, momentarily flustered with the racing thoughts in her head. "I'm Ariadne and, and they interrogated us-and I left him and oh god, it's all my fault...his blood..." her mind was in a frenzy pouring out dismembered sentences and she was still hunched over, heart racing, now racing, beating so wildly with overwhelming images that filled her eyes, sending shuddering waves of nausea through her.

Cold, steel gray floors. Stained. Now, it was stained and so were her hands. Scarlet blood, so warm, so dangerous and it never left.

"No," Ariadne was whispering to the ground, her arms that were wrapped around her waist tightening, "no, don't do this now." She was fighting the demons now as they tugged at her cropped hair and stretched out her skin, her soul. And she had to fight back. Her nails dug into her sides as she forced herself to stand straight. Her vision was clearing and the red was replaced with green and this woman standing right in front of her and to her, Ariadne planted her feet and bit her lips against the cries of anguish ringing in her ears. Her own cries.

Banish them, banish them.

Tightening her hands into fists, Ariadne spoke through gritted teeth, eyes squinting against the too bright sunlight, her entire body susceptible to the elements, "It doesn't matter." There was a fire from the fight in her eyes and blazed brighter than ever when she insisted, "What happened in the past is...is gone now. What matters now is I'm alone and so are you."[/blockquote][/size][/color]

[cass]

Listen to the wind blow
Look inside - what does it show
Time passing so very slow...I see
All the tears, all the pain
Echo's of the past still the same

TIRAIN.

I could and still so easily remember the first time I lied, it had come so easily to my lips. The words had tumbled from my mouth as easily as if they had have been the truth, my mother of course believed me, knowing that I never lied and knowing that I would always tell her the truth, her trust in me to do what was right made the guilt gnaw at me, but I knew I couldn’t tell her. I had lied with good reason, to protect my friend from being hurt, but my lie had caused nothing, but heart ache and the guilt that riddled me. Of course mother could tell that there was something wrong, she tried everything rom demanding to gentle words to get it from me, but I had promised not to tell anyone including the woman I loved the most, my mother.

Secrets were awful things that could lead to a person becoming someone they weren’t, they made you feel bad, act wrong and do deeds that you would never normally do. In a way they stain your heart and soul and once you have told a lie you are stuck with it in your heart and you hold it because you know that if you were to speak it. It would be far worse than telling the truth the first time, because you have hidden it and you have tried to cover your mistakes or the mistakes of others. It is always best to tell the truth, not only does it cleanse you, but it helps others around you, and relationships formerly built on love, than have the strength of honesty. No lying is not the answer and it never will be. After I lied to my mother I stopped, it tore a hole in me that I could never feel, I destroyed her trust and in my eyes that is the worst thing I ever did.

She never did find out that I had lied, I could never bring myself to tell her and after the first one others followed, they became instinct, I felt like I had to lie, that I couldn’t tell the truth. Soon it stopped hurting; I would always hesitate if I was to tell the truth a thousand lies springing to my lips. I would always utter one, it became the truth, the truth stopped becoming real as the lies followed, habit and experience lead me to know, to read people. I could tell when someone was lying and sometimes I thought they were, but they weren’t really and it all became confusing.

Right now I knew this girl wasn’t lying, she just didn’t tell me the whole truth. A few words stumbled from her lips, coming out all over the place, they weren’t in coherent sentences and she was talking so low that I could barely make out what she said some words I had to guess. I was not sure if I understood her at all, she was very confusing. I look up at her having understood the jist of what I think she said. The girl seemed to be in pain, her lies, guilt everything that she had been holding ripped into her. I knew the feeling, I could see so clearly what was happening, her blurry figure seemed to stumble, bend and twist, she was in pain, her voice had risen for a brief second and I listened, numbly. I could not help her and I felt no inclination to do so. This was her battle I had no part of it, if she wanted to help then she could ask, but until she did so; she was on her own.

"What happened in the past is...is gone now. What matters now is I'm alone and so are you." I give her a lopsided smile. “Yes. We both are alone. So why don’t you sit and talk to me. I’m old and it is getting cold and dark, I will be going nowhere. Either you stay or you leave, it is your choice, sweetheart.”

For hope, peace and love what do they say?
The Gods of time, are they yours or mine
I'm in your heart, feel me
I'm in your soul, believe in me
Open your eyes and you will see me

[Rosetta]

The sky was darkening and Ariadne could feel the shift in the weather, sending shivers down her spine as she cast her mossy eyes to the gray clouds rolling in over the azure blue. Soon, it would begin to rain. In thunderstorms, amid the booms, bangs and flashes of light, Ariadne never liked to be alone lest the lightning touch ground and there he be. Another shiver went down her spine and Ariadne sank back to the cool grass and pulled up the blades with her hands. The woman was right. It was just the two of them now. A selfish little girl and an old woman who was waiting for her. Waiting for her to say it. To confess her sins.

And to her own surprise, that was exactly what Ariadne did. She opened her chapped lips, revealing a swollen throat and tongue, heavy with the truth and out it spilled. She spoke with more emotion than she thought she had inside of her. She gave a small smile she told the woman how she ran into Greg and must've taken him aback with her constant talking. Her gaze met the ground when she spoke of Greg's parents, his father killing his mother and the two of them fleeing into the forest, amongst the fall leaves and the scurrying animals, falling asleep under the stars together, bathing in rivers and by this point, Ariadne's eyes were glassy. Relieving their travels through the various districts to find Ariadne's parents was even more painful, jabbing at her stomach, but then softening, for the search had been fruitless, useless and Ariadne wondered now, deep within her dark, gloomy mind, if it had been real at all or just a ploy for Greg was all she needed, for he filled her up like parents, a companion she didn't want to lose.

The absolute worst part was recounting the trip to the Detention Center. Thinking of it wasn't hard; it haunted her day and night, filling her stomach with stabbing scalpels and coating her hands in warm blood, so she was used to it. It was saying it out loud that really got her. She'd never spoken about it to anyone. Not even Redge. Now, she poisoned the air with her words, spitting out the flies and grime of the cell and spilling Greg's blood from her lips as tears dribbled from her scarred eyes.

"I was depressed for a long time...it could've only been a few days, a few hours, I'm not sure..."

Then she found Redge and selfish Ariadne, needy Ariadne found another companion to make sure she got her way. She'd always imagined telling her story of how she broke Greg out of the Capitol with her chest swollen with pride, but instead, she was hunched over, knees drawn into her tiny breasts, for the next part killed any pride she had left.

She left Greg behind.

Idiot girl, foolish girl, she left him behind, thinking he would be happier. Now, selfishly, Ariadne wished him back. For she'd given him every ounce of happiness she had buried deep within her skin, she'd given it away and now, she was empty.

Alone and empty, except for this old woman.

For a long time, Ariadne was quiet, listening to her words hum in the air, her arms still tight around herself. She couldn't release her knees, couldn't untangle herself for she didn't feel any lighter, any softer, any safer. There was still a weight in her stomach and as the dark clouds overhead rumbled warningly, Ariadne's ears rung with what she'd desperately been trying to hide from herself.

"Ariadne."

[/b]

He'd known her name and it stung, spreading all across her spine, chilling. He'd touched her. He'd slapped her. He'd kissed her. She'd escaped through her promise.

"I will kill you for what you did.”

It was a promise she knew she'd have to keep. Still, she tried to block it from her mind, she curled up her body against it for the night had been dark and she could still feel the shadows of his hands, crawling over her shivering skin, feel his rough lips on hers, taste his sour breath on her tongue. She’d gotten away, but only just and while her promise left her with a stale taste of satisfaction, the fact of how easily they’d crossed paths made her shudder. That he’d come across her on his terms-not hers. He’d said her name and her blood turned to ice, he’d touched her skin and she was paralyzed. Would it be like that forever?

Could he find her in this forest?

Of course he could. She was in the forest in the first place when the hovercrafts had come.

Stomach lurching, Ariadne glanced around uneasily, but her mouth was still moving, moving with the words she’d tried to hide, believing she could evaporate them in the air. “I ran into the Peacekeeper who…you know, made me Avox him. In this alley…I’d never been more scared in my life…he touched me and kissed me and I only just got away…well, because…”

The anger that leapt to his eyes startled her and she remembered bracing herself for another smack, knowing it would hurt less than anything else he could do to her. Sitting in the cool, waving grass, wind whipping around her from the oncoming thunderstorm, Ariadne cradled the weight in her stomach, wondering why it hadn’t disappeared by now. She thought this was the last truth to confess.

He’d pushed her away, pushed away her promise and she fled and he didn’t go after her, but they both knew the unspoken between them: they’d meet again.

And it would be on her terms. Ariadne’s eyebrows leapt up and her mouth slightly opened as realization welled up inside of her. The weight in her stomach wasn’t going to budge until she pulled up the weeds, pulled them off of her wrists, off of her chest, off of her feet because-

“…because…I promised him….” Ariadne swallowed hard and it was with determination blazing in her moss green eyes, no longer fearing the thunder that shook her very bones, “that I’d kill him for what he did. I promised him.”[/color][/size][/blockquote]

[cass]

Listen to the wind blow
Look inside - what does it show
Time passing so very slow...I see
All the tears, all the pain
Echo's of the past still the same

When I look up into the sky I can’t really see much. I see a swirling mass of colours that blend in with each other to form a blob that looks nothing like the sky. It is just a mass of blue with white here and there. The sun… it looked like nothing I could have ever imagined, my mind saw it as a ball that faded at the edges, the blue and white mixing into it so that it was all together in a large ball of whites, oranges, yellows and blues. When I turned my eyes away from the swirling mass of nothing the ground looks not much better. I hated not having my glasses, but I could not remember where I had put them. With a grunt of annoyance I quickly get my old hands to scour the round around me, searching for them. I know I dropped them someone, but where? I had no clue.

My fingers move through the leaves, soil and sand with a roughness that showed my desperation to find them. I spread them out, feeling the ground, ignoring the young lady that was in the clearing with me. Her problems were not mine as mine were not hers. I needed my glasses, my problem, I would fine them myself. I was not one to swallow my pride and ask for help. I was a proud elder and asking for help would not be something I was inclined to do. With a frustrated grunt I lean back against the tree, I could see them and couldn‘t feel them. Since I was a child I had always been proud, asking for favours, apologising, asking for help and anything to do with showing weakness was something I never did. I was a stubborn person and weakness was a sin to me.

But saying that I was hypocritical, I needed people to share their weaknesses with me, I needed them to tell me what was wrong, where they sick, injured or dying? I needed to know it was my job, but, maybe that was why I could not show weakness, because I had no one to tell. I had no one to go to and share those things with. In my tribe I was that person I was the one that they all went to with their petty and little problems. Everyone came around to me and told me their darkest secrets, truths they hide from the ones they love. I always wondered why they assumed I could help them with their petty problems, but I could not fathom their need to come to me and tell me the things I already knew.

It was odd.

I had never had the chance to spill out my secrets because I was the one that they all went to. Mine built up inside me and ate into me like a disease and left me more scarred and scared on the inside than anyone could imagine. Hated not being able to let my words fall from my lips like water runs. So many have passed through my life being able to let the fire of guilt, self-disgust or pain flees them and swallows me. I have never had that opportunity. Now I sit here and listen to yet another child as she tells me her story, her guilt and her apin and as always I listen, I listen because I have to, because these people see me as the one that they need to tell. I don’t complain, I stifle a sigh.

The girl spoke of horror, pain and misery of a peacekeeper and a man whom she wanted to kill. She ended with this.

I watch her intently as her eyes blaze with the fire of her words as everything around her seems to drown for a moment and I hold my breath, the passion of her feelings over spills and it sinks into the ground and I feel it. I felt the way she does. It does not last long as the fire is replaced by a determination, the want the dream to kill. It fills her just as the fire has and I watch my eyes unable to turn away from hers. My mind racing as her words sunk in and they filled me up as words always did. For a moment I said nothing I just stared at her, her blurry figure filling my vision.

I often her words of pain, and calls of murder. Many people wanted to kill those that wronged them. ”Murder does not always solve your problems. Why stain your hands with more blood? From what you said they appear to be stained already. Why would you promise yourself to shatter what little soul and spirit you have left in acts of murder?” I say. The words ooze confidence and a clear show of the wisdom that I had. I never tried to be wise, but whenever I tried to give meaning to words a delicate tone took hold of them, throwing them clearly into the air and giving them more weight than simple advice.

”You may feel as though killing him will be repent for his wrongs, but ending his life will not solve them. Think of another way before you so carelessly draw the crudest of conclusions.”

For hope, peace and love what do they say?
The Gods of time, are they yours or mine
I'm in your heart, feel me
I'm in your soul, believe in me
Open your eyes and you will see me