//where my demons hide// [Rosetta, Kiah, Kay]

[Rosetta]

Ophelia Rose Stromstatt

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I should not have let them catch up to me.

Perhaps if I wasn’t so lanky, so conspicuous, so obtrusive and clumsy, I might have gotten away. But, then the question was to where? The electrified fence to listen to my skin sizzle and burn? To another Peacekeeper’s waiting arms? To the community home, up into that ragged room, to listen to Ma’s startled voice downstairs, “Ophelia? She’s done what?” Perhaps I should’ve held my tongue, my fists, the boiling water seething inside of me. Perhaps.

They arrive at the hospital shortly after I am given Tuna Breath’s diagnosis and it’s not much of an arrest. A dramatic one at least. I stand completely still as they inform me that assault is not permitted nor will it be tolerated in Panem and why don’t I just follow them like the nice little girl I am.

And, of course, I do.

Perhaps it is the buzzing in my ears and the popping lights in my eyes that block out the hovercraft ride entirely. I’m numb, my fingers barely curling, my eyes barely lowering, when they chain me up. Chained up. I am chained up like the dog I saw the other day in my neighbor’s yard. He was a big, black thing that growled and lunged at me as I walked past, but his dripping, drooling, red-eyed body was restrained with a rattle and his lunges fell just short. My eyes are clear-blue, my tongue is dry and I am calm in my chains, barely even there. I want to be a fog. I want to dissipate and evaporate. I want my touch on his skin to last only as long as a kiss and then I want to be gone.

I’m not sure how long it takes before we begin our descent, but soon I feel the hovercraft begin to gently drop and for the first time since I was taken from the hospital and marched through the surprisingly empty streets of District Ten my stone-heart begins to beat and then race and my hands are sweaty when they meet one another, my wrists twisting painfully against the rattling, clinking chains. I do not want to land, but fall. To suddenly drop rapidly and just taste the earthy soil before I am grounded deep within it to sleep for eternity. I do not want to know what’s above the earth.

It’s a dark building, in case you’re wondering, because I do see it anyway. And when they reach me to take me there, I fall limp again and that rapidly beating heart lies still inside my black chest. Why, why, why, the word echoes in my head as they march me up towards it, looming, looming, why, why, why, did I…

The wave hit, but my fists hit harder, thrusting out and up, meeting flesh eagerly and bruises blossomed in brilliant purple and yellow and blood dribbled out of cracked skin and my body was alive, electrified, shocking and sending bolts through my body with each hit and my vision was a dazzling red, only him, only his body. A piece of meat. Mine to punch, to bleed, to kick, to bruise, to cut, to open, to scoop out the insides and make it mine because I am the master. I am the fighter. I am

[/i]

Imprisoned. Another clang, rattle, shudder and the chains are off, but the bars are on. All around me. The dark corridor leads to one place only and it’s a dimly lit room. Not a room, a cell. It is the shadow land, complete only with a damp ground and even damper shelves for beds. The heart of mine that is still only beats in several minute intervals. My legs are stiff and thin and for the first time in my life, rub against one another as I move forward through the quick sand. I am vaguely aware of other shadow beasts in my shadow realm, but they are irrelevant, two spaces in my otherwise empty world that move aside when I slump past, bright eyes piercing, but not touching. I disassociate myself with them, with the shadow realm and with a choked sob in my throat, I throw myself down on the damp shelf face down.

But, I do not cry. Face down, I beg and pray that here they cut off my fists at the wrist so that I may never open a human being’s head again. [/color][/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

I look forward, to dying tonight, drinks till I'm myself,
life's harder every day

The smell of piss and despair was enough to drive any man mad, but it would be Nightlocke's undoing. He had slept in the filth, finally, after nearly two days in the cage. His slumber been fitful, filled with the smell. He came to in bouts, moaning and sweating and adding to the general misery of the place. His body had become the enemy, betraying him from the inside out as he spent more and more time locked away.

The door had opened several times since his incarceration. The first had been a young Peacekeeper delivering food and checking on his health. Locke had smashed his knee into the boy's nose before the other two Peacekeeper had tackled him and injected him with sweet, sweet relief. The second time he had awoken in chains, and none other than Benedict Tucker had been there. The man who had trained him, come to see how the mighty had fallen. Locke had not been careful, had even been reckless in the hope that he would find himself on the floor again, at the mercy of a needle. Instead, good ol' Dick Tucker broke his nose cleanly with a single punch.

He'd been down since then, his chains loosened, his nose bloody and every pore, nerve, and cell of him crying for morphling. He thought at some point someone else had joined him, but he couldn't be sure. There were so many sounds inside his head, so many cries for help. What were the cries of other prisoners compared to his own pain, his own withdrawal?

The hours fled from him. He found porridge near his face once and slurped at it. Some time later, he threw it up. That was the last thing he remembered before the hinges of the door squealed and cut through the fog like a strobe light. He opened his eyes, blood shoot but still crystal blue to find an ethereal young girl marching into his cell. He watched her throw herself onto the cot, and felt his legs twitch. He had so little strength, but so much rage. And suddenly, he wanted everyone to know about it.

Locke picked himself from his corner of waste and threw himself at the bars. "Fuck you, Tucker! You think you can get away with this? This is treason!" He yelled, and then panted, so few words spending all the anger he had stored over days. I'm one of you, he added silently, knowing how that information could condemn him. Assuming his cellmates were young, pretty girls though, he wasn't in much danger of dying from anything other than starvation or dysentery. He knew that, logically, but it still felt like a form of death, this harsh reality without the coddling of morphling.

He groaned as he leaned against the bars, his shackles jangling. "Such a fucking mistake. You need me," he breathed, and then slowly turned himself around, still supported by the iron at his back. He spit to one side, mucus and bile making a yellow dot on the floor. He needed to get out. No oatmeal or gruel would satiate his hunger. He needed leverage.

And thankfully, Fucker had supplied him with some potential. "You, new girl. What district are you from?"

banner credit: bad nana rising
lyrics: adema giving in

[k!ah]

The smell of fresh air filled her nostrils sending thrill of joy shooting through her body. She let the breeze wrap its self around her body, in some sort of twisted embrace, curling its ling invisible arms around her small filthy body. A cruel smile spread across her cracked lips as she moved out of the winds embraced, sheltering her broken body behind the big dusty building of the justice whole. Her mind continuously took her back to the moment when her body had slammed into the warm body of the peacekeeper. She remembered how he had grunted in pain, his gun falling out of his grasp, landing on the dusty ground. But She hadn’t stopped there she had moved so that she was on top of the man, her fingers digging into the flesh of his shoulders, letting the man’s shouts of pain consume her, pleasure warming her body. She loved the sound of people crying out in pain. She loved the way they begged for mercy. The way the light died from their eyes, and of course she loved it most when it was her who was doing all those glorious things. Even the thought sent longing shooting through her.

She had nearly had the peacekeeper. She had nearly had him, she had been so close. If she had only had a moment longer she could have watch the light die from his eyes. But before she had had the chance a pair of strong arms had wrapped themselves around her body, hauling her away from the man who lay gasping for air on the ground. The men had not been gentle as the pulled her down the street, not caring about her screeches, or the many threats that had torn out of her throat. Occasionally that would slap her across the face with their hands, hoping that it would shut her up, but no, her ear splitting screams continued until she had reached the huge lumbering building known as the justice building.

That’s when she had saw him. The boy. The one who started this whole mess. Something so strong had pulsed through her body and she had pulled free from the arms of the men that held her, her body pulling her towards the boy who stood staring a slight smirk on his lips. Now she stood behind the justice building, breathing hard, she small chest throbbing up and down as she struggled to let the oxygen that she needed into her lungs. She had been about to fling herself at the boy when something hard hit her on the back of her head. She screamed in pain, pain so strong surging through the back of her head. Black dots formed at the side of her vision, threatening to consume her whole vision, but she thought the darkness, determined to pull free.

But the darkness won and she was plunged into the mysterious darkness her body falling limply to the ground with a loud thump.

The sound of an angry voice brought her back into the world. Again two pairs of hands hauled her down an empty hall way. There was little light as she stumbled along with the men, and on both side there was empty room. There were bars. More bars. And more bars. Suddenly fear surges through her body, something that she had not felt in a very long time. Her screaming starts again. But this time instead of yelling useless threats she pleads for them not to leave her alone down here, telling them that she would go crazy. Ironic really, considering that insanity already held her body captive.

Trapped and alone I watch as my body is dragged into the depth of the detention centre. Something cold washes over me, and I realise with a surprise, that the monster that has possessed my body is afraid. The fear sweeps through me, reminding me that I am nothing but a lost soul trapped in a body that used to be mine.

[/i][/color]Please, please, please don’t leave me down here. I’ll go insane, you can’t leave me down here. I have done nothing wrong. The small voice of insanity wanders through my mind, pleading and desperate. Hope suddenly well up in me. [/i][/color]In here she is weak. In here I may have my chance to take hold of my body. In here it might be my only chance to beat the insanity that holds me captive. Suddenly my body is thrown into a cell, insanities pleading coming to a stop. The fear that I had felt earlier becoming stronger than ever.[/i][/color]
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