{silence} of the {lambs} >> cassie/shadow day 4

[semper]

s h a d o w b i s o n

It wasn’t your blood that covered you this time, no; your arm was snug around Cassie and you were extremely careful in trying to not touch any of her wounds, but the blood soaked your tunic still, making it far more heavy than you would have liked. But you pressed on, using what little strength you had left to pull her along, leaning forward and hoping your weight would be enough to drag her just a little bit further. Already you were huffing and puffing, exclaiming gnarled and slurred phrases that made sense to no one but yourself. (“Hang on, Cassie, we’re almost there! I promise! I’ll take care of you.”) After what felt like hours you finally collapsed underneath the canopy of one of the apple trees.

Your knees struck the soggy earth and your hands did the same, but you were too exhausted to move. Cassie’s sobs were the only thing you could hear and it caused you grief to know that she was in pain. Those badgers really had gotten a good hold of her. Your attention quickly shifted over to her and you acted without thinking: hands wiped excess dirt off on your tunic and you tore bits of fabric off to gingerly place over the bleeding wounds, applying pressure in order to stop the bleeding. You worked feverishly to try to alleviate her pain but the continuous cries struck deep, shaking your very core. Tears welled in your eyes and you quickly grew mad at yourself, yelling out angrily and unintentionally pressing down hard on her wounds.

When would you learn that tears solved nothing? You could cry a river and every problem you faced would only bear down more heavily upon you; you could weep and wail and nothing would ever be fixed; no matter how many salty droplets were shed, nothing would be done. No matter how many times you broke down you were still where you were, crouched beside a wounded Cassie, angry at yourself and worried senseless over her at the same time. You had almost lost her and no amount of sobbing would ever have brought her back. What would you have done then? You knew perfectly well the answer to that and yet you refused to believe it but you were only fooling yourself.

You really were the pathetic boy others made you out to be. The only thing you were capable of killing was some stupid mutt and it hadn’t counted for anything. No mutt set out with a malicious intent of slowly torturing you, or burning you alive, or gouging out your eyes – animals only killed to eat and you had put on a “great feat” by killing a badger that more than likely just wanted food. The tributes that killed other humans were the spectacular ones. You were nothing more than a messy mop of blonde hair and a name wrapped in pure irony. (“Shadow, the boy who’s afraid of shadows. Why the hell’d you name him that?”) The fear of the dark shadows all but disappeared and had lain dormant in the back of your mind, waiting for a weak moment like this, ready to spring and frighten. You quickly shut your eyes and whimpered, lip quivering and words mumbled, head lowering down to the muddy ground in defeat.

Why hadn’t it been you to die instead of Hope or Eden? Both of them were fierce and strong, whereas you were anything but. (They should have been the ones to survive, not you.) Even Cassie and Beatrice and Mantel and everyone in Iago’s group had a far greater chance at living than you did, so why did you survive? Only by dumb luck, your father would have said. And, for the time being, dumb luck was the only excuse you could come up with. So you whimpered (more for everyone but yourself) and sank lower to the ground, not caring that the gritty mud lathered onto your face from the contact.

i’m faking glory
and send a smile over
and the stories brand new
but i can take it from here
i’ll find my own bravado

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[Deleted]

Cassie Radke

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I felt a fiery bite surging through my entire body, however, my chest, back, and arm hurt the worst. Heaving breath was now accompanying crying sobs as I fell towards Shadow (Shadow help me. Help me please). It hurt to move, to breathe, or to even think about doing absolutely everything. My vision was starting to go blurry, and I was almost positive I was going to die. Wow, this is how it would end, by stupid badgers. No. This can’t be how it ends. I felt my body being accompanied along by something, or someone, and I figured this must be Shadow.

You’re supposed to be protecting him! Get up, get going!

But I couldn’t. The loss of blood and tearing of muscle had caused enough damage to almost make me just stop, then and there. I think I actually did try to stop, but the little body holding me up kept urging me just a little further (I don’t think I can do it). Finally, after what seemed like ages of endless trudging, the one-step-at-a-time marathon ended, and we collapsed beneath one of the trees in the seemingly peaceful orchard. I wasn’t going to complain about stopping, and I immediately folded over onto the ground. Oh it feels so good to stop. Can we just stay here? I felt gentle hands began to tend to my wounds, but at this point, I couldn’t even open my eyes to watch. I could feel my sobs shaking my body, stabs of terror shooting through my body at every touch. Pain is a poison dripping through my veins, and there’s no anti venom anymore.

The touches became rougher, only causing me to cry out more, to make an attempt to make it stop. Make it end please, don’t make me endure this anymore. I don’t’ think I can. I finally forced my eyes open to see Shadow, seemingly angry, and I think that almost hurt more than the wounds that he had tried to bandage. I tried to get his attention, but without being able to speak, and not having the strength to pull him over, I gave up. I laid heavily against the trunk of the big tree, the bark scratching at my exposed skin. I didn’t know how it felt; was it scratchy? Was it soothing? Was it comforting to feel something so solid for once? Shadow and I were humans, and humans have a way of being changeable. A way of not being able to decide what they want and why they want it. I didn’t blame Shadow for his anger—if that’s what it was, I couldn’t quite tell in my state. He wanted to go home as much as I did, and I felt as if we were striking blind, not only at the other tributes in this alternate reality, but at the world in general. We were striking out at the world that kept telling us no.

It reminded me of home a lot; the word no that is. My parents had never really cared about Cole or I. We had been a mistake, an unwanted pair of kids that only had each other to depend on. We had learned the sick ways of the place around us, learning what is and isn’t wanted, and let me tell you, I was not one of the wanted ones. I had nothing going for me, and that intersects the world’s ongoing talent search for the next special star. The one who would go above and beyond to murder, to heal, and to crush as many heads as necessary to climb the ladder. I wasn’t one of those kids. Thinking of the people in the arena, this ladder of life and death, there are already some who have been crushed, and some who are on a full out destruction plan. How far was I going to climb before someone would crush me? That first day we were here, when all twenty-four of us stood around that golden horn and ran in, wasn’t I content striking out at those around me? I hadn’t really given it any thought, for that’s what we were put here to do. Kill. We hadn’t had much of a problem doing so, and I thought of that fear-striking sound of a cannon. It rattles your bones and chatters your teeth, and you couldn’t help but wonder which one had fallen now.

What’s my cannon going to sound like?

[semper]

s h a d o w b i s o n

You turned your head to the side, pressing it into the mud, keeping your eyes shut tightly. Little hands remained stationary on Cassie’s bleeding wounds even as the hot sticky liquid began to seep through to your fingers. What more could you do? (Nothing.) She had remained silent but you could feel her body shaking underneath your grip, letting you know she was still very much alive. But wasn’t Cassie immortal, just as your father was? She would fall to no sword and you were certain that she would outlive you.

That belief had been undermined by the badgers.

Cassie had blood pouring out of her the same way it did from your stomach. The only difference was that she was cut up all over her body, whereas you had received very little of the damage dealt. She could have died and it would have been directly in front of you. She wasn’t that pillar of strength and resilience you had labeled her with in the very beginning; she was mortal and bled, just as you did, and her life was fragile too. You both were as vulnerable as wildflowers in a pasture, unable to move when the stomping feet of something bigger came along and trampled them. You could try to straighten the stems as often as you wanted, but once it was crushed there was no turning back. The wildflowers quickly began to decay, losing their brief life, unable to mend themselves from the damage. Neither of you were even going to outlive the wildflowers at this rate.

If you lost her, what would you have done? Watched her be shredded just as you had watched Hope burn? The thought alone was terrifying and you absentmindedly you gripped her tighter. She suddenly meant everything to you and was the only thing left in your short life you knew you could hold onto. When all the other tributes looked down upon you, she didn’t – Cassie was the one who took you under her wing and showed you that not everything was as frightening as you perceived it to be. (“You and I, little buddy. We’ll be alright.”) Neither of you were doing very well, though. You were not holding up your end of the bargain and nor was she – you both were hurt and losing at an uphill battle. It frustrated you and slowly but surely you were realizing the deal was futile.

You hastily straightened up and let go of Cassie, resting on your knees, threw your head back and let out a scream to the rainy sky. You didn’t care who heard; all the pent-up frustration, all the anxiety, all the hatred, and all the pain fueled it, cry after cry. The scream lasted until your throat ached, burning from the use, and your ears rung from the volume. You toppled over backwards and onto your side, curling up on the muddy ground. Your little fingers dug into the soggy earth, pulling up tufts of grass as you dragged yourself closer and closer to Cassie, reaching the point to where you just pressed your forehead against her side, catching your breath.

i’m faking glory
and send a smile over
and the stories brand new
but i can take it from here
i’ll find my own bravado

[/size][/justify]

[Deleted]

Cassie Radke

[/font][/center]

The pressure still being applied to my chest hurt, it made breathing difficult and strenuous, but it must be helping. Right? Shadow was going to take care of me this one time, and then I would miraculously spring back to my feet and fight for both of us. Isn’t that how it works? My thoughts were interrupted by the rough pressure slowly being relieved. Oh see, I’m fine. It was just a scratch. It still hurt though, the pain wasn’t going away. It wasn’t in any way stopping or easing up. My thoughts and questions were intercepted by a sharp scream, one that seemed to shake the ground and deafen your ears. But wait, if that wasn’t me… Shadow?

My eyes shot open, forcing my entire body to cry out, telling me that just moving was not smart. There was the small boy, on his knees, screaming out at a world that didn’t care. A world that was watching us burn, and really, they were probably cheering. Weren’t we two of the ones not expected to make it far whatsoever? Iago, Emery, Hope, and others, weren’t they the ones expected to win and go home and greet the ones they love again? We were destined to fall to a silent grave in this world that was made for us. What was the point of dragging on day by day, only to know that it’s futile? I had no chance of going home, seeing my brother again, or sleeping on that hard mattress that irritated me every night. I should just quit now. Quit while I’m still somewhat ahead.

Wait. Shadow, that’s what I was supposed to be paying attention to. If I wasn’t going to go home, I had to at least make sure he had somewhat of a shot. Even if I knew neither of us really did. Who did he want to go home to? He seemed to really want it; he seemed to really have something to fight for. I commend him for that. He’s kept on fighting for himself and me, even when we’ve been in the jaws of death.

I don’t remember much of what happened with the badgers, it all happened too quickly, but I do remember after the one fell at the end of my flail, Shadow hadn’t left. He had stayed, and quickly taken out another one. It would’ve been nice if we could have done that before I got so cut up, but hey, I’ll take what I can get. That was actually a good feeling, the crush of a skull that is. But it was only a badger, an animal that was only there to throw me off. How would I feel if that had been a human? A kid, to be even more specific. I hadn’t really realized that until this point. We were murderers. Each and every one of us was wielding a weapon of death over our heads. We were growing up too quickly, trying to prove that we were old and strong enough to handle our tasks.

But some of us weren’t quite ready to grow up.

My thoughts drew back to Shadow, who was now on his side, and for a moment, I thought he had hurt himself with all that screaming. I wouldn’t be surprised, for he seemed so fragile. So tiny and easily broken by the people around him. It seemed as if the dam in his sanity had cracked, and that he was also realizing what a stupid effort all of this was. I felt his head press against my side, the touch barely there, the lightness of the touch so unrecognizable that it took me a moment to process what he was doing. My hands were still sticky, covered in a red that could only be my own, and I wiped them off on my shirt. It was pretty dirty now, a canvas or crimsons painted by two dying artists. I placed one of my hands on his back, trying to fight the flurries of dizziness while I drew pictures on his back. My mom did that for me one time, when I was sick, and it was the most comforting thing I had ever experienced. I had her draw a bird, a house, and then our family. All four of us. That had been nice. I didn’t have my family anymore—well not that family. So I thought about what I could draw now, nothing happy, as that didn’t seem to match the moment. After a few minutes I began to draw again, and this time I knew exactly what I wanted.

The picture slowly began to form in my mind, and it began to transfer to his back. A girl and a boy, beaten and bruised. There was a bird in the sky and an apple sitting at their feet, but there was no home. Nowhere to go now but to the grave, and they both seemed ready to accept the fate that could not be avoided.

Life’s not picture perfect.

[semper]

s h a d o w b i s o n

”Swing like hell, fight like the devil.” The words had stuck with you ever since your father first said them in the Justice Building. He was known for using little sayings like that and you were never sure whether or not to take them literally, but this one you knew for sure: don’t ever surrender. He may have been embarrassed by you at times but he did love you and he proved it whenever the opportunity arose; the quote was just his way of saying that he wanted to see you again (if the tears in his eyes weren’t clue enough). You wanted to return to him, too, and you knew what the cost was: twenty-three lives. (Or your own life, if you wanted to return to him in a wooden box.) How many families would be mourning? How many people total would be affected? No one would ever forgive you, not even yourself. Perhaps the only merciful person in all of Panem would be your father, thankful that his son was the lone survivor.

But returning to him meant that kids just like you had to perish, including Cassie. (That would be a kind of guilt to never leave you.) If she were to live, though, then that would ultimately mean your death. Was that something you could endure willingly? Perhaps. Death was far more terrifying than any thin tendrils of shadows dancing across the ground – complete darkness, almost like being engulfed in an eternal shadow. Your father had mentioned a few times in his stories about some kind of paradise after the good knights drew their last breath, but the idea never stayed with you for very long. Now, though, as you lay in the mud and let the rain soak your tunic and patter on the side of your face, you began to give it a second thought. Maybe there was some kind of paradise where only the good folk could go; why else would anyone try to do good in their lives if it never counted for anything? (And why would it be in all of the stories if it didn’t exist?) There was a very good chance it could only be some abstract vision or fantasy – someone’s coping mechanism for fear of the unknown just blown way out of proportion – but you refused to believe anything like that. (But because you were scared or because you really did think such a thing could exist?)

You were silent, listening to the sound of rain droplets hitting the leaves of the tree above. If you hadn’t known any better you would have felt like you were right at home in Five, sheltered by the canopy of a tree next to your house. The grass tickled your skin and the musky, earthy scent was very familiar – comforting, even. You took in a deep breath, keeping your eyes shut and somehow fabricating even the smell of cow manure from the muddy aroma. (Maybe, just maybe, when you opened your eyes you would see your dad walking with that rusty pail of feed over to the trough; maybe, just maybe, you’d see the cows all trailing behind him, little calves leaping around with excitement; and maybe, just maybe, everything had been only a hellish nightmare and you’d wake up tucked away safely in bed.) Ever so slowly you tried willing yourself to open your eyes but quickly lost the courage. You knew full well where you were and so the wisps of comfort faded, leaving you feeling drained and hollow.

A light touch fell upon your back, filling some of the void with its warmth. Your eyes remained closed while you focused on the contact, mentally following it around as it drew imaginary shapes onto your shirt. The motions were unrecognizable at first until you distinguished a stick figure – then another one – standing side-by-side. (Who were they?) The finger lifted to a spot lower on your back and drew what felt like a wide heart with ridges on the bottom, but you soon recognized it to be an apple when a stem and small leaf were added. (Apple, apple – you two were in an orchard, surrounded by apples; was one stick figure you?) The artist then added what felt like wide-armed V’s up above the heads of the stick figures, leaving you to wonder what they were.

The motions certainly had calmed you down. You were resting much more peacefully, and even the pain from wounds was not causing too much grief. The sogginess of your clothes was not very bothersome anymore, either, and you were comfortable curled up on the muddy ground. For once, things were okay. Cassie’s warm presence beside you was enough of a security blanket to allow you even to consider sleeping, but she was the one who needed to rest, you reminded yourself. She was hurt and it was your turn to prove that you cared.

You opened your eyes to see the blades of grass right in front of your nose, blinking whenever rain droplets rolled too close. The trees, too, were stretched out further in your line of vision, their large apples dragging branches down even further and you were sure that a few were going to snap at any moment. A deep breath filled your lungs and spurred a small jolt of pain in your belly that you quickly ignored, choosing instead to lift an arm and reach behind you, grabbing lightly onto Cassie’s hand. You pulled it around and set her palm onto your cheek while her fingers obstructed your vision. However, you merely closed your eyes again, tuning your attention on the contact of her hand. Still you held softly onto her wrist even as you breathed in the sickly copper scent of blood from her hand. It was an odd way of saying it, but like the strange quotes your father always said, you hoped to convey the message to Cassie that you really appreciated and trusted her; that she could close her eyes and you would take care of her. (You couldn’t have made it this far without her, anyway. Maybe there would be a paradise for her too.)

i’m faking glory
and send a smile over
and the stories brand new
but i can take it from here
i’ll find my own bravado

[/size][/justify]

[Deleted]

Cassie Radke

[/font][/center]

“Cole help me down!” The fear in my seven year old voice resounded through my mind. The two of us had been out in front of our house, trying to find some way to put the boredom to rest. The sun was bright, beating down on my red head. The flat ground around us was interrupted only by a tree. It was tall, towering over our young heads, branches splitting off from multiple places. We had never given it much thought, but you don’t tend to pay attention to things until you have absolutely no other option. We looked at it for a moment, and the troublesome grin that followed affirmed we were both on the same page.

I had always been the better climber, and with ease I scaled about as far as I would dare. The view was nice, even though there wasn’t much to see. Looking down, I watched Cole’s dark head move closer and closer to me. However, he stopped and tried to find a foothold for several minutes before looking to me and starting to go back down. “Are you really that bad of a climber?” I shouted towards him. Well, I guess I get to enjoy myself. I sat myself on a branch, and for once, I felt like a princess. The leaves around my head encompassing my throne of bark. The ground below was a kingdom I could rule without fear, and one day others would know about me. I would do something worth remembering. Right? Maybe it wouldn’t be something big, but it would be something. Everyone does something to validate remembrance in someone’s mind. Of course I hadn’t really thought about these things when I was seven, then it was just about being a princess. Everything was simple, but really, it still was. What was complicated about this?

Everything that goes up must come down.

After I had decided that one day I would be a princess, and that I would be someone to be remembered, I fell to more boredom. I was a typical kid with a two minute attention span, and instantly I looked around for Cole. Where could he be now? Oh well, I could get down and go find him somewhere in the house. One step, two steps towards the ground. I stepped carefully, looking for foothold after foothold, but I realized that it was a little harder to get down than it was to get up. When did I climb this high? It hadn’t seemed like I had gone that high up, but now, with the spinning ground beneath me, it felt like I was on the summit of the highest mountain. “Cole?” My voice was no longer taunting, but desperate, and it surprised me when his head popped out. He immediately reached up as far as he could towards me and began to give me instructions.

“Uh, put your left foot down, but a tad to the left-- there yeah,” His voice made me not panic, even though I shouldn’t have been panicking in the first place, “and your right hand, you can move it down now.” He guided me step by step until I was safely standing on the ground, and we finally collapsed under the shade that now covered the surrounding area. “You’re lucky to have me around, you know that?” His voice wasn’t bitter, it was comforting.

“Yeah, I’m pretty lucky, because you’re always going to be there carrying me right?” My return was genuine, because now, that’s all I wanted. The comfort that could never be. Those had been the last words he had told me: “I’ll carry you.” Where was he now? Why hasn’t he saved me?

Why do I feel almost completely alone?

Shadow’s little body had somewhat relaxed after my painting was done. We were just resting there, hoping for sleep to come over our weary bodies. Just as I was about to drift off, I felt my hand being moved. His grip on my wrist was tight, but not painful, and my hand laid gently across his eyes. It was nice, for some reason, because now we were both being comforted by our own darkness. Our own shadows to hide the fear the crept within our hearts.