Burning [Chaos and Stare]

[sbeeg]

Clayburn, Cassius

There were certain things that needed to be done before the fun began. Cassius had always thought the prep work was tedious but he hadn't had a go at the interrogation room in awhile and he was itching to do it. He had finally gotten an assignment and it was a good one too. After reading the file, Clayburn got right to work. After weeks of desk work his mind was full of unique tortures for the criminals. One technique that had seemed to most appealing to the Peacekeeper was fire. It burned everyone the same.

"Bring DeRicasho to me, send Whitestone to the room behind the mirror to watch- and make sure she does," Clayburn snapped at a younger officer who rushed away with the paper work. Cassius walked into the small, white room and grinned at the shackles on the wall. Will probably be need those.

The materials he had asked for were already there, piled and ready. Wood, matches, and the best part- brands and pokers and every other piece of metal under the sun. The Peacekeeper took out a small flask from his coat pocket and poured a good portion of its contents onto the wood. Picking up the matches, Cassius slipped one out and slid it across the side of the box. The small red flame erupted on the end of the match and he couldn't help but admire the beauty of it. How the flames danced down the small piece of wood, destroying it into shriveled black ash. Dropping the match, it took little time for it to catch and spread into a larger flame. His supervisors may not like him filling up the center with smoke and burning holes into the floor but it isn't everyday that you get to "interrogate" someone who assaulted an officer. He slid the pokers into the fire and remembered what he had learned about this method. "They have to be red hot," they told him "Red hot or they won't scream."

Waiting for the metal to heat up and for the idiotic officer to arrive with his charges felt like forever. Cassius stretched out his fingers and curled them back in trying to rid himself of the restlessness growing in his body. Finally, the jangle of keys met his ears and the door opened.

"Chain her up," he said as if talking about the weather, shifting the pokers in the fire and thinking up all the things that would happen in this small white room in the course of a few hours.

[sadniss everdeen]

| Well she calls my name, hoping that I'll keep her safe |

these cold nightmares
they make her worse for wear
lost in the dark, she's got a heavy heart[/size][/font]

I knew before they reached my cell that they were coming for me.

It was the decidedly languorous footsteps that struck fear into every inmate, the sharp rap of their heels echoing down the long hallway. My cellmate hadn't done anything to warrant pain, just a few painstakingly carved words that said so much but did so little. We were alone in our little slice of hell, just the two of us and the sharp barbs we coated in foam as we grew to know the other through the endless days trapped without daylight. My stomach ached and my eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but I still grit my teeth and raised my jaw stubbornly when the Peacekeeper - young, fragile, easier to throw off guard - stomped up to the cell and jangled the keys.

"DeRicasho," he snapped gruffly, but I could hear the tremor of unease under his words. "you're coming with me." My lips curled upwards into a snarl even as he entered the small room, uniform painfully white against the dull cinderblock. I held my wrists out in front of me but kept them close, forcing him to move forward. As the metal reached out to snap around, I jerked forward and pushed him off his feet. He swore angrily and surged forward, clipping me on the temple and stunning me against the wall. "You fucking bitch!" he growled, snapping the cuffs onto my wrists and yanking me forward. "Just for that I'm sure Cassius will have something special for you. He's a sick bastard."

"Why, does he make you call him Mommy when he rams you from behind?" I spat, ignoring the muted snicker from the other Peacekeeper that had come to investigate the nosie. Another whack to the head, stronger this time. I stumbled but didn't fall, shaking the pain from my head as a piece of cloth found its way into my mouth and around my neck. "Fucking hell, they get more and more stupid as the days go by." Just before I was wrenched from the room, I made eye contact with Yaa. Be careful. Always be alert. Don't worry, I'll be fine.

We traveled from one end of the compound to another, always punctuated by a swift jab to the ribs if I slowed down. My muscles cramped with the lack of movement these past days but I simply set my brows into a frown, blinking away the hazy pain that had begun to sink its claws into my skull. Words slung by me and I managed to grasp onto them as we passed, things that didn't make sense separately but began to come together as a whole. I perked up at the mention of Whitestone and wondered how they had managed to get her real name, sealed away within her skull. Maybe they'd already broken her?

No, I couldn't think like that. I had sworn to protect her at any cost and that's what I'd do until I lost my last breath. But when we stopped at her cell and our eyes connected from the gloom, a shot of panic rippled from the base of my skull outwards in tiny, prickling waves. Bound as I was I couldn't do anything, but my subconscious lurch towards her didn't go unnoticed. The older Peacekeeper wound one hand in my hair and yanked, breath hot and fetid against my neck. "You don't get to go to your little girlfriend, slut," he whispered, face obscured as he stood on my right. "bet I could sort you out. All you need is a real man and some discipline, yeah? Something she could never give you." A vision of Kaya flashed in my head (she never loved you, only I can love you like you need) and my eyes narrowed, thickened with rage. I threw my head sideways and was satisfied with the crunch it produced, smelling the blood run and splatter in haphazard patterns all over the sterile tile. His grip in my hair grew painful as he jerked me down and I grunted through my gag, following to lessen the sting.

I knew I was just making it worse for myself, but my anger fueled my thoughts and desires. As we were yanked harshly down the different corridor (his muttered swears were music to my ears) I noticed the temperature spike, forming beads of sweat along my bronze skin. I swallowed nervously but refused to let them see the fear, tattooed as it was on the edge of my frayed sleeve. My fists balled to stop the careful trembling that threatened to unglue my bones, grasping onto the anger to cool my rising concern and harden my eyes into flint. They shoved us both in a small room but my muffled protests went unheard as Luna was herded into a different side door, out of my probing view.

The thing that drew my gaze was the large fire smouldering in the center of the room with little to contain it. I cast my eyes around the space but there seemed to be little in the way of flammable material - I didn't feel like burning alive if somehow the whole thing degenerated before anybody could halt it. The cuffs were cold around my wrists as a welcome respite to the sweltering heat and they yanked the chains high, unaccustomed to my imposing height. Broken Nose undid my gag and all the built up tension rolled off my tongue dripping with venom, staining my throat and straining my muscles. "You sick fuck, what the hell do you think this is going to accomplish? I've heard shit about you," I yanked against my binds and the metal rattled its protest. My frame shuddered but this trap had held many stronger than me. "and it's no fucking wonder they keep you locked away where nobody will be subjected to--" A violent blow to my already tender head and I stagger, vision clouding over as the cuffs dig into my wrists. The tang of metal is harsh in my mouth but I pull myself upright, catching a glimpse of raven hair from the strange window to my left.

Luna?

My teeth bare upon instinct and I try to straighten my spine, legs finding precarious balance despite the handles of whatever he's imagined beginning to grow warm under the flame. As long as she doesn't have to be subjected to this, I can take it. I have to. She's not strong enough for their shit, we've only begun to repair our relationship. I know it can withstand this, but can she?

[/blockquote]

[Stare]

Luna Whitestone

I like to dream a sleepy
Serenade and dream my life away.
<><><><><><><><>

Whispers.

They seem to be everywhere these days. Lingering on my lips in the dead of night, long after Kormiko has fallen asleep, leaving me to battle my fear alone. Hovering in the air between us as we exchange words we do not want our guards to heer. These are the kinds that I do not mind- the ones that are only words. The ones that live in reality and nowhere else. But then there are the ones that crawl through my slippery nightmares, surrounding me, overwhelming me. Who knew that when whispers are combined they could be louder than a scream? There, where I am helpless and suspended in blackness, they fill me until I can take it no more and awaken, sweaty and trembling but having escaped them. But they don't leave when I open my eyes. No, I hear them in the clatter of our food being shoved through the bars of our cell and spilled onto the concrete floor. They hide within the cracks of our cell, they laugh in Kormiko's anxious footsteps. They are here, never leaving me, always haunting my mind though Kormiko and the guards seem to hear nothing.

Perhaps I am going insane.

It wouldn't surprise me. I've lost track of the amount of time spent here. Has it been hours? Days? Weeks? It feels like eternity. The cell seems to grow smaller and smaller, the world outside our cell wider, until I feel that there is very little keeping me from breaking down and sobbing for them to let me out. I am a child of midnight and moonlight, not locked doors and creaking beds. I was born to be free to spread my wings instead of being forced into a cramped space such as this. Where are the stars and the sun and the moon? I'll even take rain or snow- anything besides this gray nothing that hangs above me, blank and limiting.

When Flight passes by, I can help but automatically stand from where I am seated at the end of Kormiko's bed, with him sitting against the wall on the opposite wall. The conversation that we had been having ceases when I rise, turning my head toward her, midnight eyes wide with fear as they meet her golden ones. We can't exchange a word. Can't even reach for one another. When I see him grab her hair, though, I feel myself try to leap forward toward her, only to be blocked by the stupid bars. I grip them tightly, my eyes desperate when they lead her away again. Where are they going? What will they do to her? Will they break her? I draw away from the hallway as if this idea has burned me. No. Oh, please no. Anything but this.

I sink back into my seat on the bed and drop my head into my hands, onyx locks hanging as greasy curtains on either side of my head. "This is all my fault," I whisper, my voice choked. Why did she fight? Things just go better when we don't fight them- when we remain under the radar, ignored by the Keepers. But then I reverse the scenario in my head and know that if they had been taking her away, I wouldn't have just slipped away quietly. I would have fought to get to her, not even considering the consequences, because I'm instinctive. We both are.

When the door screeches open, my head jerks up. A single Keeper stands in the doorway. "Luna Whitestone?" I cringe. Ever since they discovered how much I hate my name, they've been using it as much as possible. "Violet," I correct, unable to hide my anger. "Luna," concludes the Keeper, grinning. "You're to come with me."

Kormiko and I stand at the same time, but I shoot a look at him over my shoulder as I walk to the doorway. This isn't your fight, Capitolite. He hesitates, still standing, and so I shake my head ever so slightly when I turn around so he can bind my hands behind my back. Defeated, he sits back down, still looking anxious. "I'll be fine," I mouth, but the Keeper catches it. He smiles nastily. "I wouldn't be so sure."

The walk to our destination is silent and over all too fast. The door swishes open to reveal a snow white room with a single chair in the middle. There are a few Keepers in the room already, but it's the flash of yellow eyes and black hair that makes me rear up onto my heels in a desperate attempt to stop them from moving me. Instead, I am shoved forward again, through a door I didn't notice upon my entrance. With my hands tied behind me back I have nothing to stop my fall, and land flat on my face. The Keeper laughs and yanks me up by my hair, practically tossing me into the chair that sits in front of window that Flight can't seem to see through. I struggle without my hands, desperately trying to flee only to be shoved back into the chair harshly. "Nice try, Luna," says the Keeper. "But there's no escape for you now." He smirks.

"Showtime."

[/blockquote][/justify]

[sbeeg]

Clayburn, Cassius

As they walked in, Cassius didn't give much notice to the prisoner. However, the blood streaming from the guards face did make him pause. However, it was pretty clear that they had a wild one of their hands, injuries were bound to happen. However, he was glad it happened to that guard and not anyone valuable.

The Peacekeeper was about to dismiss the other officer when the gag was removed from the girl's mouth and a flood of curses and threats poured out. Cassius kept his cool, just staring back at the girl as she let out her frustrations but the other guard didn't have the experience Clayburn did and slammed a fist against the girl's head. It was apparent that he had done this at least a few times before. Her hair was bloodied and how else would he have gotten his nose broken?

"Please leave before you disgrace yourself anymore than you already have," Cassius said sighing and waiting until the door closed behind the man before continuing.

The room was filled with the warmth the fire provided, but it felt great compared to the chill air that was always circulating around the Detention Center. So, the reason Clayburn removed his clean Peacekeeper jacket wasn't from the heat. He didn't exactly want it to be soiled with the girl's blood like last time. Uniforms don't come cheap. The girl, Flight, she was babbling at him (they all do) but she cut herself off, an insult hanging unfinished in the air. Cassius followed her eyes to the large one-way mirror on the wall. She knows her little friend is watching he thought, walking over to the glass and checking his hair in the reflection. Turning back to Flight, Cassius looked her over. Taller than usual, but still shorter than him. The skin was a warm shade of honey, the hair dark and wavy. Altogether Flight was a very attractive woman. Pity she wouldn't leave the room that way.

"I don't believe we've officially met," he said calmly, his voice low and his eyes still trained on Flight's body. "I'm Cassius Clayburn, officer #CC-39472 not that you really care do you?"

With each word he crept closer to her, wary of any sudden outbursts she may have. Sweat was just starting to bead up on the nape of his neck.

"Are you aware of your crimes against the Peacekeeper force, the safety of District citizens and the nation of Panem?" he took his eyes off of her, staring at a brand in the fire, the metal glowing red. Grabbing the warm handle, he pulled it from the flames, strewing hot ash from the fire across the floor.

[sadniss everdeen]

| don't try to fix me, I'm not broken |

[/size][/color]

hello
I am the lie living for you so you can hide
don't cry[/size][/font]

My muscles flexed angrily as I strained, blind eye rolling helplessly in its socket as he crept out of my vision. Sweat was forming along the curl of my fingers and under the soles of my feet, rolling down my temple even as I turned enough to see the bright-hot metal inch closer to my flesh. I couldn't tell what it said but something inside whispered I didn't want to know, trapped and bound as I was. The rattle of chains is the loudest thing in the room, masking his deliberate footsteps and how the narrow of my eyes grew from infuriated to not-quite-fearful, trepidation of the hours to come.

"Don't you fucking get any closer with that, you piece of shit!" I snarled. I braced my arms and lashed outwards with my feet, keeping myself suspended by the biting cuffs around my wrists. When the ball of my foot hit the metal, there was an instant of searing pain that shot from my toes to the curl of my spine, snapping back the appendage at the same time that the iron clattered to the floor. The sound didn't mask my pained swearing, unwilling to put the burnt flesh back down on the ground.

You've only gone and made it worse for yourself. My head tilted to the noise, purposely keeping my gaze on the Peacekeeper that will undoubtedly return for the iron again. There was a whisper of shadow, a deeper dark; it curled in the corner and from it I could see thousands of eyes peering curiously back, unblinking and cold. I shuddered, but stifled a groan when the rough concrete agitates the wounds. What would I have done? Take it lying down? You know that isn't my style.

Flashes of countless nights under the haze of morphling, waiting and wanting for strangers to touch my skin so I could pay for my neck hit burned their way through my mind - I had promised myself I wouldn't ever be so powerless again, stripped and ready to be taken. But it seems fate had other plans.

Your style doesn't do you any favours, does it? I can almost hear the sarcasm and my body swells in indignation, spine clicking back into place as my lips spread thin over my teeth and the chains rattle once again. The reflection from the mirror is eclipsed from my lack of sight, but I feel Luna's eyes burning holes into my skin.

"Well," I snapped at the corner, watching how the shadows chuckle and run along the walls like liquid. "maybe if you left me the fuck alone I could--" and the next thing I know, my voice has morphed into this hoarse thing, a roar bubbling from my lips and turning into a screech halfway. I hadn't been watching and he sunk the brand deep into the flesh of my palm, charring skin and creating angry bubbles in its wake. I thrashed, eyes wide and jaw locked; every time I curled my fingers I would touch the metal and start a new wave of agony. It shot down from my hand through to my head, veins blooming into flame the longer he stood motionless, letting the hissing noise give way to the scent of cooking meat. My throat eventually gave up and I slumped when he finally took it away, the unbearable heat replaced with a sting I know I'll feel when I dream.

My mouth opened and closed a few times, pain creeping all the way to my shoulder wiping my mind blank of words. If I focused hard there was a swirl of syllables around me, battering my form and daring me to catch onto them. I've been told that I'm more of a hurricane than a flood: the whirlwind of my actions equated only by the devastation left in my wake.

Is this what it feels like to be knocked over by lightning?

"Crimes?" I wheezed, staggering again to my feet and crying out as the metal rubs against my seared skin. When I laughed it was without intent, something dark and angry spilling outwards from my ravaged throat. "They were trying to take her away, I-I couldn't let them. It wasn't her fault." I gritted my teeth and tried to curl my fingers, snapping my fist back open as the skin began to split and weep. "The citizens get into enough shit on their own. T-they don't need us to help. Sweat rolled freely off my temples in the sweltering heat, matting my hair to the soaked planes of my forehead. Every joint ached from exertion and the cuffs were pressing red lines into my skin - I didn't want to look at the mangled mess that secreted serous fluid I could feel running down my arm. If only I could get one glimpse at her eyes, to prove to myself this was all worth it...

In the corner, the monster stared back from the void, a chilling mixture of pity and curiosity. His eyes were nothing but empty sockets, waiting. I spied the brand still in the Keeper's hand, burning bright through the night and angled towards my other side; I closed my eyes, trying to sum up the will to stand upright though my knees refused to support me.

His gaze had to be enough for now.

[/blockquote]

[Stare]

Luna Whitestone
Buried my heart in a willow tree,
Then you came along and brought it back to me.
<><><><><><><><><><>

Maybe I see it coming and maybe I don't, but all I know is that the moment her scream pierces the air, my own joins it in a perfect descant of beautiful agony.

Their hands fly out to pull me back but it is too late- their palms hit only empty air and then slap against the chair forcefully moments after I scramble forward, fingers shrieking as the claw across the glass that they'll never be able to break. My lips part to call her name, one tortured syllable that is so hoarse and warped that it seems to have escaped from the throat of a beast rather than my own. The absolute torment in her eyes is so real it is almost tactile, and I slam my fist once against the window of horrors before the Keepers are yanking me back, forcing my fighting form back into the unforgiving chair. One of them grabs a fistful of onyx stands and yanks hard like a puppeteer might pull on the strings of his marionette. My neck fights automatically for a moment before my chin caves in and the back of my head slams against cold metal with a force that causes pinpricks of white to blink in and out of my vision. It is this and only this that makes the howl of distress that was fueling my own terror cut short, ending in an abrupt cry of pain before falling into stunned silence. But seeing her in pain ensures that I cannot be silenced for long.

"Stop it!" I shriek, feeling the delicate tissue of my throat strain as I reach pitches not meant for my voice. "Stop it, you're hurting her!" I attempt to surge forward again, but one more my head is forcefully snapped back, though this time my cries do not drop off into silence. Instead, they morph themselves into a dozen curses intended for the man who carries the burning source of her pain. In fact, while I'm at it, I throw in a few insults at the Keepers beside me. They only smile, amused by my reaction. In response, I force my head forward and snap my teeth dangerously close to one of their hands. Another pull, another series of blinking lights in my vision, but I cannot help feeling satisfaction at the way the smiles have dropped off their faces and the one who was in the danger zone pulls his arm back slightly.

But the look on her face, so torn and pained, drags me back down into despair. I remember in my worst fits of sorrow she was always there, fingers so adjusted to breaking somehow managing to heal the scars, though they could never truly erase them from my skin. Perhaps there were times when I was banished to loneliness, unreachable by all, but she still tried and that was all that really mattered in the end. She still has that sliver of my heart from the times when I desperately tried to repay her with my companionship, for as little as it was worth, and I know now that I can never ask her to return it to me. The day I left, my heart was screaming for her to just bury it away and forget about it all, but we'll never be able to rid ourselves of those memories. Pain twisted our friendship into something unbreakable (or perhaps unrepairable) so that it is connected to us always, chaining our hearts into our chests even when we wish for them to be gone and over. I know those bindings will remain firm and steady until the things they torture protect still, just from the experience of trying to rid myself of them once.

And now I see her in pain and I want to heal, to give back to her and fuel a once lost but never destroyed friendship. The threads connecting us to each other pull me forward but the Keepers hold me back, strong hands firmly pressing me into the hardness of the chair. Currently, it is only my weak limbs and hopeless state that prevent me from flying through that door to assist her. My weakness, a prison which keeps me tortured as I dangle by a single string above the void of insanity. I need to get to her, to reach her, and in my mind it is unacceptable that I can't, so I continue to struggle though I know that it causes the Keepers satisfaction and will only increase her alarm if she can hear my desperate screams.

I don't know where the tears came from, but once they start I find they will not stop, tumbling over one another as they streak down my cheeks. Isn't it funny that the only one who could possible comfort me right now is the very source of my pain, her own agony reflected in my eyes though I know that mine is minuscule in comparison to hers. The monster of a Keeper circles around Flight with his glowing weapon, ready to kindle his own twisted joys while burning through her otherwise impenetrable defenses. Through the sobs and the wails my mouth forms a word, little more than a whisper because it seems that vocalization of anything understandable is not a current strength of mine. I know he can't hear me and the word is pointless, but it escapes me anyway, hanging in the silence of the eye of the storm long after I have uttered it.

"Don't."

[/blockquote][/justify]

[sbeeg]

Clayburn, Cassius

There is just something about the sizzling of flesh that signals a job well done. The Peacekeeper had kept the red hot bar of metal against the girl's skin, watching the skin turn different shades of red. His eyes took in everything, not wanting to miss a single moment of her agony. The way his victims' voice curled from the confident sneer to the painful squeak. Those were always the best- the ones who thought they couldn't be broken. It's not as fun when they bring in a kid already beaten, they already have accepted their fate. It is so much more enjoyable to watch the life drain out of their face, and their body to go slack with defeat.

No matter how long it took him, Clayburn was going to break Flight. It wasn't a question of "if", it was "when." Oh, and "how"- that one could be interesting. Inspecting the seal made of the bent, red hot iron, Cassius frowned at the blackened skin hugging the heat. Looking at his charge, Cassius threw the metal back at the fire, listening to the sweet clang on it against the hard concrete floors.

A sound caught the Peacekeepers ear and he stopped. A soft, but shrill noise. His eyes followed it and landed on the "mirror" covering the opposite wall. Then the idea grew in his mind, taking root in his brain and blooming into something so delicious he had to grin. Taking a step towards the mirror, Cassius reached down and pulled a plain fireplace poker from the fire glowing red. Taking a look at the mirror, Cassius nodded at the Keepers inside before turning back to the freshly burned girl.

"You seem to care very deeply for this friend of yours," he said, nonchalantly, inspecting his weapon. "Perhaps she'll want to join this party."

Lips already turned up in a smirk, Cassius pressed the pointed tip of the metal in the middle of Flight's neck, searing the flesh into a black circle. "After all, you should share such special treatment."

[sadniss everdeen]

| You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now |

[/size][/color]

don't you dare look out your window
darling everything's on fire
the war outside our door keeps raging on

Everything throbbed with a disjointed heartbeat, my fingers twitching over my ruined palm like possessed. I could try and narrow in on the words he said, but the rushing blood searing through my skin prevented comprehension. He took another, smaller brand and I closed my eyes briefly, willing the air in my lungs to inflate my mind as well as my body and keep me from the worst of the pain. The shackles digging into my wrists were nothing more than a distant memory - all erased by the way my left hand sung its pain through the rest of my body. There was a soft, keening sound that traveled through the walls, and I realized belatedly I wasn't the one making it. Luna? As if waking from a dream, I felt my body stirring in response to her distress - straightening the curl of my spine, shaking sweat-stained hair from the pale curves of my cheeks.

I could feel the heat of his new weapon close to me - it taunted my muscles to freeze and clench, wary and unwilling of the new pain to come. It would never be over until he deemed me shattered; I'd run into too many of these people in my lifetime, deep in the Sewers where I was nothing more than another nameless face.

Somehow, I found myself once again longing for that simplicity.

"You seem to care very deeply for this friend of yours," he mused, forcing me to jerk my head up and narrow my eyes through the haze settled around my vision. I glanced quickly to the right, searching for her though the sound had long since stopped. "perhaps she'll want to join this party?" I hissed angrily at the sparkle in his eyes - they spoke of promise and amusement and pain, of living a lifetime where we would never win. "Don't you fucking dare touch her." I growled, lurching forward to him though it brought a fresh wave of agony through my left side. Even as he pressed the new, blindingly bright poker to my neck, I groaned promises disguised as threats through my frenzied tongue and swallowed down the satisfaction of my screams. It felt like it was slowly taking over my body - this ache masquerading as a sting, something I felt all the way down to my bones.

Fetid fingers brushed over my damp forehead and for once I was glad for its clammy skin, leaning into the deathly embrace that chilled all it touched. The monster said nothing, simply running its palm along the strength of my jaw to still the quiet trembling that had begun ever since the exhaustion of days without sleep crept upon me, void of adrenaline. I blinked slowly past the burn in my throat, stumbling back upright though my legs wished otherwise. "Do what you want to me," I murmured, voice quiet but firm. Within each syllable was the conviction I felt to my core - perhaps if I could listen properly, my mind would be screaming to reconsider; but my heart was always the one that spoke loudest. "just don't touch her. It's not her fault."

I was the one that suggested appearing in Six to replenish supplies and rest from weeks of walking through sparse forests and rolling hills. It gave me a pang of homesickness I never thought I'd feel for the hunting grounds of Nine, the small houses and clang of the forge as the blacksmith begun his daily work. The world outside the Districts was beautiful in a haunted fashion, gray sky dull but comforting even as I wished my hands to be blankets and erase her pain.

Something banged and I whipped my head to the noise that broke the tense silence, shaking sweat from my eyes in an effort to erase the blur that had settled like a shroud over my vision. I strained to see the disruption, flinching back with a muffled yell as my ruined hand bit into the metal cuff - there was a flash of a polished boot, crisp, white pantleg visible before it disappeared again into the room. Arguing floated to us in disjointed sentences; cajoling, angry, just a bit amused. Two male voices, a female mixed in but overpowered. I could recognize those wind-chime vocals anywhere and lunge again, flinching but ignoring the pain. "I will fucking rip you apart if you touch her! Do you understand me?! I will tear out your fucking innards and feed them to you, you disgusting pile of shit! Get your grimy hands off of her--" I had too much time to see it coming but no time to react; my body snapped taut like an elastic band as I screamed, uninjured hand spasming around the once-again searing brand. They sung together in a melody of hard-edged agony, buffeting me from both sides as my skin stuck to the metal as he pulled it away.

I dropped to one knee and swallowed down the bile rising in my throat, trying to fight away the stench of bubbling flesh that invaded my nose. I couldn't let her see me like this. My head turned away in shame, trying to count patterns in the tile below though the constant stream of fire settling through my muscles stopped all coherent thought. The monster caught my gaze and shook its head.

"I want to sleep." I mumbled thickly, exhaustion weighing at my lids despite the pain and Luna's presence around me which I wrapped around like a needy child. It shook its head again, tilting up my chin to give a hard stare without eyes.

Not yet. You can't let them win.

"When?" Even as I heave myself again to my feet, it comes from me in a soft whisper.

Soon.

[/blockquote]


[sorry if I kind of hurried it along a bit, but it'll take forever if we hang on every single detail xD]

[Stare]

Luna Whitestone
No I don't want to hurt,
There's too much in this world
To make me bleed.
<><><><><><><><><><>

Forgive me, for here where the rotten and wicked run free I find that I collapse under their slight touch.

Isn't it funny that even in this abysmal despair I find myself unable and unwilling to shut down? Before, when I cringed away from even the slightest of agonies, I would set myself free by either running away or simply forcing myself not to feel, allowing the emotions to flutter free of my magnetic pull. And yet now when I drown in something far more harmful to a broken soul such as my own I find that instead of closing it all out eyes only peel back wider and every part of me becomes hypersensitive to everything and everyone, bringing me to life and forcing me to feel in a way that I haven't in a very, very long time. Even with this new source of energy buzzing through my veins, though, I know myself defeated and shoulders still slump, all the fight having left me with the realization that they can do this and force me to watch and there is absolutely nothing I can do about.

I hear his voice but despair floating through my mind cloaks his words so that they make little sense until one Keeper settles his hand on my shoulder. I jerk away and narrow my eyes at him like a wild animal because this is their fault and while I have been defeated I refuse to be broken so that I offer no retaliation to their unjust actions. Never shall I cave into such desires, for I will shatter on my own terms and not theirs. I know it is foolish to be a warrior long since beaten but still fighting, and yet my pride wills me onward when nothing else does. The Keeper is far from angered- amusement on his sharpened features makes me lean away slightly in suspicion because these are the kind of people who take enjoyment from others' pain. Surely this man was not always so despicable, but he has grown into this monster, this beast probably just as horrible as the one who wields the glowing weapon beyond the window.

Maybe they're all just unloved beings searching for something to make them feel.

"He wants you out there," the Keeper says, grinning wickedly to reveal a mouth full of bright white teeth. For a moment, it feels too good to be true. Being released into freedom, into the room where I can save her just as she has always saved me. But then I see the glint in his eyes and I know that what they offer me is not freedom but rather intensified torture as they hold me in place to get a closer look at her pain, caged within a weak body that can do nothing but stand and stare as she goes through unimaginable agonies at the hand of the monster that is outside rather than within.

"No." I shake my head, and the female Keeper on my other side laughs and yanks me into a standing position by my armpit as if I am no more than a toy, her own personal marionette. Her fingernails sink like claws into my delicate flesh and she pulls me closer, stretching scarlet lips back into a cruel smile. "I don't think you have much of a choice, Luna," she whispers, breath smelling of peppermint and promises of pain. I cringe away because I may be fighting but I have never been strong, not in the way that Flight is. I know that they are strong enough to get me out there no matter how much I resist and so I shake my head again, more vigorously. "No. I don't want to go out there."

The male grabs my other arm with a force that will indefinitely leave a mark behind and tilts his head to the side slightly. "That's too bad." And then, working together though surely the female alone could have stood my weak efforts to escape, they drag me toward the door that once looked like an escape but now only appears to be the beginning of fresh torture. It swings open with a metallic squeal and I am dragged squirming and struggling into the room, forcing my upper body downward in an attempt to free myself from their hands which act like living chains.

But then I hear her second scream and I arc back up into a straightened position, spine uncurling and eyes widening in something that can only be pure horror as I see the weapon pressing into her skin, sizzling hot and giving off a sickly smell that would have made me puke if it I had smelled it anywhere but here. I lurch forward but of course they hold me back, though this time I can tell they struggle with the task because her agony gives me the strength to try even though failure is certain. "Flight!" I shriek, eyes wild. "Flight!"

When he pulls away the brand and she drops down, my cry of despair cuts off and then I am sane enough to really get angry, to feel rage course through my every vein as my struggling stops and instead I turn to him, eyes two pools of midnight fire. "You monster," I hiss, trembling with the desire to go over there and shove that metal pain right into his face. "You despicable, heartless, wicked thing." I grit my teeth together and force myself forward so that though I am still unable to move I am at least as close to him as I can get. I'm in no position to threaten him and so instead I make myself content with just throwing out insults and a string of curses directed at him that cease suddenly when I see her rise, when I recognize the ability of the brand to hurt her. Anger melts into fear and something similar to panic as narrowed eyes widen. She can't take much more, and neither can I. And though every instinct within me screams for me to continue shooting him with anger, I know that fighting will only make things worse. My gaze becomes pleading.

"Don't hurt her again. Please."

[/blockquote][/justify][/color]

[sbeeg]

Clayburn, Cassius

The wild shriek of the other girl sent a shiver up Cassius' spine. Savoring the feeling, he laid his eyes on her. All of her anger was displayed for him to see and Cassius did not even attempt to hold back his chuckle. Her high voice screamed at him, calling him a monster. How many times had he been labeled a monster? Too many to count. It did not mean anything, it never did. Monster seemed to be Cassius Clayburn's middle name. Her small frame shook, her eyes darting to Flight (who had seemed to have taken all she could).

"You despicable, heartless, wicked thing," she fought the officers holding her back, snapping at him. Usually when people yelled at Cassius they did not have enough time to think of so many colorful words- how refreshing. He was looking forward to playing with this new toy, so energetic and feisty. The officer was sincerely disappointed when the girl's rage turned to fear. It was clear when he looked into her eyes.

"Don't hurt her again. Please." Clayburn's teeth went on edge and he felt the heat of anger rising in him. He knew that prisoners would make sudden switches like that, but to take away all the fun and enjoyment and just give up- that's enraging! The knuckles gripping the fireplace poker turned white and Cassius scowled at her.

"Since you said please," Cassius' voice was rough and exposed the madness within him that may have not been apparent. He'd give the bitch what she wanted- he wouldn't hurt Flight. Shooting his arm out, his hand wrapped her arm in a vice and he dragged her to him shooing the guards out. Pulling her arm behind her back, Cassius yanked it up to agonizing heights. Once his hand was in reach, the officer dug is fingers into the girl's hair wrenching it back to expose the tender skin of her throat to the poker. The tip wasn't touching her skin, but the heat was close and painful. Glancing at Flight, Cassius snapped at her. "I guess I'll just play with your little friend now."

Lowering his lips to Luna's ear, he whispered to her "And we're going to have a lot of fun, now aren't we?" With another jerk of her hair, Cassius pressed the scalding metal to her throat.

Never refuse to play the torture game with Cassius Clayburn, he'll only try to make his own fun.

[sadniss everdeen]

| But all that's dead and gone and passed tonight |

[/size][/color]

I remember tears streaming down your face when I said
I'll never let you go, when all those shadows almost killed your light
I remember you said don't leave me here alone[/size][/font]

"No!" It wasn't a roar as much as a scream, tearing at my vocal chords from where it erupted from the base of my chest and vibrated outwards into the small space. Both younger Keepers snapped to me and the chains rattled my defiance, lunging forward only to be stopped short by a barrier I was unable to break. It meshed perfectly with her high, wailing notes and once again we proved to be perfect for the other; even in agony, we were in complete harmony. "Stop it! She doesn't know how to play your fucking games, hálfviti! Let her go!" I continued to fill the room with my rage, swelling and expanding. It took up the entirety of my head and my heart until there was a strange groaning noise from above - my wrists jerked by several inches and they rushed before I could undo all their work in my blind fury.

They came close and I lashed out, uninjured foot coming up to snap forward. It connected with the square, solid jaw with a mighty thunk; my body never registered the pain. The woman inched forward and I snapped my teeth at her, bared and stickybright for her to see. She eyed me as would a caged animal - wary but gloating, never unsafe. The fire continued to burn, bathing me in a layer of sweat that matted my hair to my neck. I eyed Luna's face, contorted in pain, and wished my scarred hands to wick away the moisture pooling in her eyes, from the curve of her jaw to the tip of her nose until she was able to silence the world and roam far away from here.

I remember the times before the horror, when we'd stomp back into the base - Luna loved to impress her feet upon the virgin snow - and I'd grin as I peeled her threadbare gloves away from her frozen fingers, as carefully as one would a princess to the throne. She'd scoff and me and try to pull away but I'd simply shake my head as it would slip off, digit by digit, until I could lay out the soaking garments and leave them to dry. Winter looked good on Luna - the even flush of her cheeks, the wet and crystalline glow of her eyes, the shimmer of her lips cherry red and lacquered. Together we'd work in silence, tugging away the ice on frosted zippers because our own hands were too weary, talking without sound. I liked it, the quiet of our language, the way the words hovered - it spoke of determination and contentment; the nimbus of a friendship now allowed to bloom without the flower of shadow.

Here there is no snow, only suffocating heat. The darkness was warm in my cell; slimy, without a hint of a breeze. But here it settled heavily around my shoulders as a palpable weight. The female Keeper finally managed to inch around despite her partner's muffled swearing (the tang of blood so much sweeter than the salt of burning skin) and Luna's ongoing cries that set every nerve into overdrive and brought down several other clasps. They snapped around my biceps and gave me no respite, arms hoisted high, without angle or gravity to use towards my eternal advantage. I hissed in discomfort and squirmed - whatever feral anger that gave me the strength I could have used had long vacated my body. In its place was simply a churning well of hatred, sloshing sloppily in my chest and brimming over where it seared a different kind of agony through my veins. It was silent again but the silence was wrong. It spoke of plans and thoughts better left unsaid, of more pain and more suffering for those not dressed in sacred white. I was used to waking in darkness, and all this eternal light, both natural and theirs, threw me off-kilter.

Bleeding Jaw stumbled up with a muffled growl and threw a clumsy backfist. A quiet crack as it connected with my face but the stinging gave me focus, allowed me to blink the pained haze from my vision. I stood up straighter, shaking my head to see the poker had lost its angry burn.

"She wasn't the one that attacked you," I mumbled like spitting out thick cotton, copper in my mouth cloying all attempts at speech. "she can't take the pain, fucker, it won't be as enjoyable. Don't bother with her." Though I didn't waver I was quaking, quick as a hummingbird's wing, only known once you laid a palm to my flesh. Exhaustion and agony alike was taking its aggressive toll, but I refused to back down until my veins were so dry they'd cry dust. I clanked whenever I moved, shoulders already beginning to ache from the new position. What did they want from us?

The younger Peacekeeper cradled his injured jaw even as he stumbled over to the fire pit, yanking out yet another poker. I closed my eyes and inhaled sharply as he advanced on Luna, indistinct brand glowing venomously in the already lit room. My body tensed itself for the inevitable screaming that would soon occur, the blight of burning skin, the sizzle of sanity being seared away. I'm not sure how long I stood with my jaw clenched so hard a tooth began to crack under the strain. Seconds, minutes? But it never came. I simply stood there for endless time until I slit my eyes enough to see him turn the brand to her - handle up with a disgusting sneer and a few whispered words, but still a fearful glance in their superior's direction. Wait, what's going on?

[/blockquote]

[Stare]

Luna Whitestone
Distant flickering,
Greener scenery.
This weather's bringing it all back again.
<><><><><><><><><><>

Perhaps I should have seen it coming. Perhaps I should have prepared myself. But my mind, muddled by distress and rage, didn't recognize the threat. I suppose I thought that I was safe from any sort of physical pain because all my torture was mental. And maybe, though I'd never admit it, I thought that in some way Flights pleas could protect me. I should have known, though, that these creatures dressed in snowy white are beyond nothing. They took her away from me once, and then that wasn't enough. Then they had to bring her here again, as if she hadn't seen enough torture. And this time, they are determined to break her beyond repair. Somehow, I thought that I could stop it. Though weak and defenseless against their cruel ways, I thought I could protect her as she so often protected me. I should have known that my armor is too thin, crumbling around me at even the slightest blow. There's nothing I can do to save her.

I can't even save myself.

A yelp quickly cut short escapes my lips when he grabs my arm and twists it behind me and up, up, up until my shoulder is stretched out of its socket and I can't feel my squirming fingers any longer. My jaw parts in a silent scream, eyes wide and shining with the agony as fuzzy blackness and then blinding white flicker across my vision. The joint stretches and contorts in attempt to fix the problem, but it only causes more pain and I clamp my mouth shut, cringing and tilting my head downward against the pain. I forget about Flight and my anger and everything because now there is only this new sensation of pain, swelling outward and up the tortured limb in a series of pinpricks and groaning aches as one my one my muscles admit defeat though they remained twisted taut in his grip.

The fingers of that same hand snatch my onyx locks and yank downward as if trying to uproot them. The strands stubbornly cling to my scalp though it causes agony from the place that took iron hits; my head jerks backward, chin jutted up toward a ceiling I can barely see through blurred pain, and then there is something hot and dangerous close to my throat. I suck in a breath and try to force myself away but his grip is firm and I remain as trapped as ever. His breath is hot against my ear though it cannot compare to the radiation of heat given off by the poker. "And we're going to have a lot of fun, now aren't we?" Vocal cords stretched far, I gurgle a response that sounds like a whimper.

And then the minuscule distance between that torture weapon and my throat closes and vocal cords or not, I'm screaming. Flesh hisses and sizzles and spits beneath glowing metal and skin becomes angry and red in an attempt to match, but the real thing is what happens inside. Nerves awaken to fire and screech almost as loud as I do as tendrils of fire shoot out from the burning point like some beautiful firework of agony, invisible to the eye but clear enough under the flesh for me to trace the pattern if I had a free hand. I've burned myself before, pulling a pot out of the oven. But only for a split second, and even then blisters bubbled up to the surface of my skin. This is something a thousand times worse before the burning refuses to go away- just when I think that it's over my flesh recognizes the heat again and fresh waves of fire erupt outward. And all agony is bathed in the warm, flickering light of the fire, roaring like a monster just begging to be released from it's eternal cage.

I remember when I used to think fire a cozy thing. Something that could thaw me out after winter nights spent hunting. And then there were the occasional bonfires at the base if we were feeling especially reckless and we didn't think the Keepers would notice the smoke. I loved those nights spent under the stars with the twirling flames to warm us- even Ari's sharpened features seemed to be smoothed by a light rich in gold and scarlet. Stories were whispered and traced out into the smoke so that our haunted tales were carried up to the heavens for the stars and the moon to listen to. Times like those made me believe in friendship, especially when I managed to convince Flight to accompany me. I know she didn't like being around all the other rebels, but with enough begging I could lure her near the dying embers when the light wasn't so harsh and all was quiet and peaceful.

But now fire is a creature, a raging beast that tries to consume me, to poison me from that one point. Eventually my scream quiets and the fire burns less, but something sticky and liquid still form tiny threads when he pulls it away. The release of my hair send my head gasping forward, though movements are cautious, for even the slightest crinkle in skin near the fresh wound sends more flames licking around my neck. My eyes follow Flight's voice and after the pain has cleared and my vision sharpened, I realize she has been repositioned with new chains. The pressure on my arm lessens, though never letting go, but in this moment of silence I force my eyes to meet hers and our silent agonies twist out into the air, hers stronger and greater and mine seeming small in comparison. I force myself to swallow the pain and swallow the fear because if she can stay strong for me than the least I can do is return the favor. Still, I can't help but try to stumble away when I see the glowing brand coming toward me. If Flight crumbled under its horrors, what will I do?

But it is the handle and not the glowing pain that meets my hand, and I stare at the Keeper in confusion. He grins and leans forward to whisper in my ear, his breath humid and sickly. "You're turn, Luna. Either you burn her or we burn you."

I stare at the glowing weapon in horror. My pain or hers. My hand begins to quiver and I turn back to face the other Keeper, pleading with my eyes. I know he is merciless but surely he must see some wrong in this. But there is no response and so I turn back to Flight, midnight eyes wide. I take one step toward her and then stop, the brand clanging as it hits the floor because my fingers are shaking to hard to hold it properly. I pick it up, very slowly, and then shake my head. "Please. Don't make me do this. I don't want to do this. Just... please. I- I can't..." my voice trails off and then I'm crying, tears silently tumbling down my cheeks. My fingers tighten around my brand but my arm refuses to move forward, though I try again and again. I force my throat open again, but the voice that it releases is still choked."I can't do this."

[/blockquote][/justify]

[sbeeg]

Clayburn, Cassius

Now it was time for one of Clayburn's favorite games. The ace always waiting up his sleeve just ready to be pulled out and slapped on the table for everyone's horror. After the girl's screams seemed to stop themselves, he forced the handle of the red hot poker into her hand, nudging her forward. It did not take her long to figure out his meaning. A few whispered words and her feet stumbled forward, her entire body shaking under his grasp. Of course she spouted the usual things "Please no!", "Don't make me do this!" or his personal favorite "I can't."

Grabbing her hand in his, controlling her arm like a skinny little puppet, he forced her forward making sure to keep her well restrained with firm hands around hers. Once they were within reach he gripped her hand tightly, moving it forward slowly so the agony would be last longer, and be firmly branded into both of the girls' minds forever.

"Yes, you can," the words came out as a raspy whisper as the girl's small hand brought the poker to Flight's chest, making a large black mark across her heart. He kept her hand there, Cassius' free hand gripping her chin to make sure she watched the skin fizzle and curl around the scalding metal dark and dead. Cassius chuckled but the small giggle turned into a full out laugh, right in Luna's pretty little ear. The whole thing was just so damn laughable. Tiny little things didn't even have enough strength left in them to fight back. With his own fingers around the girl's he realized how easy it would be to break the little twigs. His hand crunched around them further, forcing the poker deeper into Flight's skin.

OOC:I'm sorry, this post was done quickly and not very well

[sadniss everdeen]

| Just close your eyes |

[/size][/color]

hold on to this lullaby
even when music's gone
gone[/size][/font]

I swallow back all the things I wish to say and instead study her tear-stained face and the rapidly swelling flesh along her throat, shuffling towards my form with hesitant baby steps that reminds me so desperately of the time she was struck blind and helpless. Everything is so wrong about this situation that it bites down to the bottoms of my stained soul, mumbles that all of this could have been avoided if I had just been better. (To who, I don't know. Luna, keeping her safe within our District. Kaya, giving her a reason to stay within my arms as her brother wasted away. Desma, holding her close as she breathed her last shaking breath into my mouth. I have failed them all, and my scars will forever be a reminder of this.)

Together with my fear and exhaustion and anger, the chains above me rattle as she moves in closer, digging her heels back against his oppressive weight that is not to be denied. The expression on her face breaks me but I simply shake my head, firmly planting my feet on the ground almost as in acceptance of what is to come. When they are so close I can feel the simmering heat of the poker not yet touching my skin, I seem to melt into her; my head buries itself into the crook of her shoulder even as my back arches away from the weapon, arms jerking forward to hold her before I forget I've been rendered useless. We communicate through touch and sight and not some measly mundane thing like sound, so I rub my clenched eyes against her skin and let out a massive breath, still unused and unprepared and all those other things that mean not ready (and really, who is ready for this?) even as the metal jams into my skin and I howl.

It's instinct, really, to thrash in an attempt to get away, but I simply curl further into her comforting warmth despite it being her hands that harm, jaw working so hard it's sure Luna can feel the tendons popping through my skin. Before Mama left in a whirl of perfume she told me to stay strong, and I have tried my best throughout the years, doing what she wanted as if it would make her come back. After a while it stopped being a facade and integrated into who I was, who I am, and can't help feeling like I'm doing something wrong as I allow the pain splayed over my heart (fitting) to wash over me in an endless tidal wave. It knocks me straight from my own head and sends me reeling, burning the clothes between us and charring me a sticky black. I doubt I'll ever be rid of the taint that's being slathered onto my form in this disgusting room, the scent of his cologne overpowering Luna's own smell I had once almost forgotten. Breathing sears my skin but I refuse to cry, smashing my head deeper into her as I curl my whole body around her the best I can and wait until the metal takes its toll and lets the feeling morph into a singular throb of agony rather than sharp, staccato bursts.

I've never felt enough while she felt too much - it used to be the perfect compromise, but now it sees as if we've set our feelings to full and let other things overflow and override our systems. I can't make sense of up or down and my weight rests heavily on the chains shackling me to the ceiling even as I raise to press my chin, tucking away my mouth against her ear until my lips brush her lobe. "Don't give up," I say, and am horrified at how my voice sounds, thick and wet and nothing like my usual timbre, "as long as you're okay, I can play. I promise. Just do what he says." For some reason my body speaks otherwise but I've long known how to tune out others that don't agree with me, so instead I focus in on how her fingers and white and bruised under his hold.

I've never known how to say all the things to her that rebound in my head but remain trapped - I need you and don't go away and I couldn't live with myself if you got hurt - but the determination in my throat bleeds away all other thought, living and breathing for the sole ideal of getting through this so we can move onto something better.

District One is so corrupt I could make a living off the streets, but the budding gangs could always use a lieutenant and I am more than willing to give. I must take my beatings before I can be blessed and it seems like baptism by fire is the only option.

I was made to protect her just as she was made to heal me, so I dip down - everything screams but I fight through the sudden nausea - and open my jaws, finding his bony fingers with my teeth and clamping down hard. She is not to be trifled with and I will do all in my power to prevent that; if I'm dead by the day's sunset it will have been a necessary casualty. His blood is too rich on my tongue and I resist the sputter. It seems that his taint goes down to his very bones.

(The rook defends the queen, battered and bruised with cracks running down the surface but loyal to the end.)

[/blockquote]

[Stare]

Luna Whitestone
Shake it 'til the sky falls to the ground,
We don't have to reap the fear they sow.
<><><><><><><><><><>

"...and so the prince led his princess to the castle on the hill, and they both lived happily ever after. The end."

My mother smiles as she closes the tattered children's book and slides it onto the mahogany shelf by my bed along side rusting toys and banged up dolls. My wide eyes watch her every movement, as swollen knuckles cause her fingers to tremble when she tucks the blanket up to my chin and kisses my forehead goodnight. She still wears her dress from work, long and covered in patches from the numerous times she tore it. "Mama?"

"Yes, love?"

I pause for a moment, focusing on the wrinkles stretching across her forehead despite her youth. "Mama, are there really such things as happy endings?"

She is silent for a long while before finally reaching for my tiny hand and squeezing it tight. "Good night, Luna." I watch her retreat to the door, with my question still hanging unanswered in the air between us. Or maybe her silence was an answer- maybe the truth is too much for even my strong, beautiful mother. The light clicks off and she closes the door so that only a single aisle of light enters my dreamland.

"Good night, Mama."

<><><><><><><><><><>

Make it stop. I swear I'll be good and do as I'm told. I'll never run away again. I won't break another promise for as long as I live. I'll dive into the coldest river, climb the highest mountain, hike through the driest desert, or even take the horrible wrath of the glowing brand myself if I could just somehow escape the torture of hearing her beautiful voice twist and morph itself into a howl of agony, and feel her tremble against me, and know that it's all my fault. My own hand grips the iron handle that drives the heat deeper and deeper into her chest until it surrounds her very heart, burning us both in ways I never thought possible. Despite the large hands that grasp my own, grinding bones and joints together painfully, I can still see my own slender fingers holding the torture device. I am the weak link- if only I were stronger, I could fight back. I could save her. But I'm not stronger.

Maybe there was a time, long ago, when I was strong. I remember on one occasion my parents dressed me in my best (a white dress with a lace collar and a large silk bow that tied around my waist), and invited their friends over. My father played his fiddle and we all danced in the leaping shadows of the candles all over the room. Night and fear and cold nipped at our doorstep, but for once found its entry forbidden. Our house was safe that night- not even the Keepers could strip us of our joy. That was before my father died. Before my mother fell into her quiet despair. That was when we could afford nice things such as silk ribbons and lace. Maybe then, in the warmth of that room with the companionship of others, surrounded by music and laughter, I was strong.

But that kind of strength abandoned me a long time ago.

I stand there, a weakling, with limbs so thin that it appears as if my skin clings to nothing but bone and tears trailing down my cheeks as I burn my best friend, wishing it could all be different and I could go back to the way things were. So different from that child bathed in candlelight and dressed in white. It's horrible, how all this time I was clinging to the hope that maybe there would be a happily ever after for me after all. Dreams are meant to stay in sleep, and yet they drag themselves forth from the depths of my mind now, calling in their siren song and daring me to just let go and be weak. Childish things, dreams are, and I will not give in to them. Panem is no place for children. It's time to be a big girl now. It's time to be strong.

"I don't want to do as he says," I murmur in response to her words. "I'm done playing his stupid game." She speaks for me to follow the rules even when she breaks them herself, burying her teeth into the skin of his hand like a wild animal. I stare at her in horror, for her actions will indefinitely not go unnoticed. And I know that it can no longer be her fighting alone- she'll never make it out of this place alive if she is by herself on the battlefield. I think of the silent message I sent to Kormiko before leaving our cell. This isn't your fight, Capitolite. And I was right. It isn't his fight. It's mine. His grip loosens considerably when it feels her bite, and I quickly force my voice into the empty air before he can fill it with his own, carefully stepping out of her protection if only in the smallest of ways. "Why don't you stop this torture and just tell us what you want? I'll give you anything you desire- just stop hurting her."

[/blockquote][/justify]