brave and afraid {rave+dreams}

[Dreams]

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i wish i
was strong enough
to lift not one
but both of us

The bed is haunting. It houses my fear of sleep and dreams and nightmares. Yet I still lay down every night and shut my eyes and live through the tortue all over again. I don't exactly know why. But, I suppose, without it I'd die. But I can't tell the difference. Hell or the living version on the other side. I decide living, because I like to breathe. I sit down on the rough and bouncy mattress, feeling darkness coming. I'm always the last one to fall asleep and the first one to wake. Or, at least I think I am. I lay down reluctantly, the springs digging into my shoulders. I snuggle with the blankets and pretended that it was Skye, so I wouldn't have any nightmares. Closing my eyes, I hope for black and nothing else. Just vacant space. Please, please, please. Just for this one time. Just don't come back. But, of course, they came. They took over my peaceful sleep once more.

"Skye? Skye I'm scared. Is that okay?" I would ask her, pressed cheek to cheek with her.
"I am scared, and I think that is perfectly fine." This puzzled me because I always thought Skye wasn't afraid of anything at all. I was wrong. Later that night, I saw her cry. I've never seen her cry, and there's nothing more frightening than seeing your own guardian in tears, that one that's stronger to break down. "If I'm scared, can I be brave too?"

"Of course. Being brave means being scared but fighting back anyway. You, little freckleface, are very brave indeed."

I was quiet after that. I shouldn't be afraid anymore, for her sake, but it's too hard. But I haven't given up yet.

Beaten, bruised, and bloody.

But even with these factors, it was the rare time I was happy. Joy is hard to achieve in my life, but that first night of freedom was wonderful. Wrapped in my sister's arm, holding me tighter than she ever held me before. No more fear trembled her eyes, no more concern crept in with every movement. For the first time, she was stable, she worried herself too. She gave up so much for me. If only I could tell myself what I know now then. Then we could've run to the hospital that first night and never turned back. We could have lived together. Suddenly, I'm up on my feet, running, running, running. So scared, with adrenaline pulsing and heart beating faster than snow melts away on your fingertips. Screams and wails. My parents, they found us. They found Skye. They probably killed her. And I just kept on running. I just kept sprinting away, feeling as if my life was more important than hers, being so selfish as to leave my sister who did all she could to protect me, and then never protect her back. I blame it on myself over the years, even though she would never want me to. That first night alone was horrifying. The only thing I could feel was guilt and shame. Come back! Skye! Come back! But screaming on the top of my lungs didn't help.

I'm fleeing because they've seen my, and my footsteps pound on the ground. They're yelling my name, they're cursing at me, they're going to kill me. I run ever faster, beads of sweat running down my forehead. It was icy, and it moved my forward. Forward and away from Skye was the only thing I could think. They hit me once on the head, they hurt me. They dazed my but I got back up again. They kept chasing my to the hospital. In reality, they stopped because they would be in trouble if they hurt me here. But in my nightmare, they kept pursuing me through the hall. They cornered me. They have me. They will kill me. Evil laughs ring in my ears and I barge out of the circle.

-- BAM --

I fall to the cold ground of reality and awake. Tendrils of sweat are running down me and my chest is going up and down and up and down. My heart is beating with fear. I ran into a boy that looks my age. He looks strangely familiar, I think I've seen him around. But I couldn't be happier; he isn't anything like the chasers. He's normal, he's a kid. And, the best part, I know he's just as messed up as me.

some day i
will be strong enough
to lift not one
but both of us

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Word count: 738 | Other: Omg no muse at all[/center]

[Deleted]

Rasmus Pevensy

Delicate in every way but one
God knows we like archaic kinds of fun
Chance is the only game I play with, baby
We let our battles choose us

"I think Wednesday is upset with me."
"Well yeah, you lied to her, dork."
"I didn't mean to though."
"Go to sleep, Razz."

But I couldn't The area around my left right eye felt like it was being to swell like the time Tuesday jammed his foot under a door, except instead of 5 branches absorbing the pain, it was just one curcumfrance circam circle of hurt. Plus, Wednesday is throbbing too (but with anger instead of pain), and it's my fault. Monday didn't mean to kick me in the face, so I told her I ran into a desk corner. Either way I'm hurt, so I don't see why it matters if Monday was the reasoning or not but oh well I guess. (I can tell it hurts because it feels like I'm branding my iris each time I attempt to cover it with my hand.) Once Saturday leaves the room after telling me goodnight, I sneak my way into the closet of my room, my feet charging across the carpet on my adventure over there. A tiny pop

[/i] shocks my finger as my hands craft themselves around the silver knob, forcing me to step back. "Ooo, I'm sorry door, my apologies" (Wednesday warned me it's rude to bump into somebody and not apologies.)

Eventually, the branches from my palms coiled themselves around the knob once more, and eased open the door more considerate this time, forcing a small smile among my face this time as with the doors trust. A quick glance over the mirror hanging away from the bathroom door denies the entire "my eye is the size of a football" theory, so I defeatabley march back to the bed stuck against the wall of my room, until the disruption my eyes promise of Sunday, whom I have yet to see in the past month; as soon as my foot turns her way however, she takes off per usual. As in routine, her tiny figure (even smaller than mine) seemingly evaporates out of the room.

"Wait!" For once, Tuesday isn't around to mess my encounter with her up, so determination not to fail this take sinks into my veins. Instead of politely embracing the door's personal space, I burst through it sprinting to catch up to the fleeing girl. My feet pounding harshly against the ground, struggling to catch up with her. The wisps of her light hair curve down a different hallway, but I didn't know she could solidify instantly. "Oh man, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry." The lady falls to the ground, heaving as if I kicked her in the face rather than... ran straight into her at full speed. Wednesday is gonna be so upset
[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote]

We gladiate but I guess we're really fighting ourselves
Roughing up our minds so we're ready when the kill time comes
Wide awake in bed, words in my brain.
"Secretly you love this, do you even wanna go free?"
Let me in the ring, I'll show you what that big word means

[Dreams]

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i wish i
was strong enough
to lift not one
but both of us

My legs are too shaky to get up and my mind is racing too far ahead to stay right here and now. My breath is heavy with fear and I'm dancing between reality and the nightmares, like a side of the river that's burning hot and the other freezing cold. Darkness, then the gloomy glow that always illuminates the hospital. I roll over on my back and my blue eyes try to focus on the boy. His face looks familiar. "Oh man, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry." His voice does to. I know that his name is swimming around somewhere in my screwed up mind, and I don't feel like fetching the fishing pole to get it out again. He's a blur, then he's clear, then he's a blur and then and then. But he's not a monster, I'm grateful for that.

I shake my head because I don't know if this is real, I don't know if this is still in my dreams or if I'm awake. His face seems to flicker, like he didn't even exist. Dark masks appear over in his face and small screams escape me every time they flash on. I here Skye's wail. I feel the brick with dried blood under my fingers. I see that look in her eyes, pleading for me to go. I didn't want to, but I did. I heard pounding footsteps, or maybe it was my heart. I find myself rocking up and down with my fingers dug into my hair.

"Run! Go! Run, Eva! EVA! EVA GET BACK HERE! EVA WE WILL KILL YOUR SISTER, Eva! Be brave! Be strong! It's ok to be scare--GO!" The voices ended with a scream.

I suddenly break out of my daze, my calm hazy conscious before I truly wake up. I bolt straight up and I look around frantically. "Don't hurt me, don't hurt me!" I cried, panting. And then I saw the boy again, and it felt like deja vu. My respiration slowed to a soft stop, and I gently get back. I stare at him as if I forget something and then I look down. "Sorry, it's just, I- Um... Nightmares." I stuttered. I get up from the rough floor. I hug myself because I need it and I never get any. I'm still trembling when I'm standing up. This boy is slightly larger than me. I blow the hair out my face and shake like I was outside in summer clothing. But this time the coldness if fear. How many times do I have to relive this nightmare? How many times? Please let it stop soon. Please let these day be numbered.

some day i
will be strong enough
to lift not one
but both of us

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Word count: 444 | Other: Ahh beautiful Rave writing<333[/center]

[Deleted]

Rasmus Pevensy

Delicate in every way but one
God knows we like archaic kinds of fun
Chance is the only game I play with, baby
We let our battles choose us

After having the front of my face collide with somebody else's, I guess having my brain pound against the hard interior of the only bone protecting it was to be expected. The intertia of the headache unsteadies me right off the bat, forcing me onto the kneecaps bracing the ground now. (My knowledge of bones does not expand very far, all I know is that they protect until the break, and they are broken until somebody else fixes them for you. Once, Ophelia broke her toe because I may or may not have 'dropped' a book on it, and from the banshee shrill that echoed from her porcelain mouth, I guess it must have hurt like hell heck) Having a bone break frightens me, and Wednesday goes on about how brave I am to embarress me in front of Monday and Saturday, so I know I am not just some coward.

Pressure radiating from my brain onto my skull feels as if it's threatining to crack it open. Once, Saturday told me that holding my tongue to the roof of my mouth would help eradicate a headache, and since I can suffer no harm from it, why not attempt? I never really thought about how the top of my mouth would taste, but in reality it did not taste like anything. It felt like I was licking one of the plastic soldiers back in my room, but it definitely did not taste like one. When I was a kid I used to eat a lot of different things just to know the taste, (paste, paper plastic, fabrics, crayons, once I attempted to eat a goldfish before one of the nurses yelled at me) but I never wondered about the roof of my mouth, mostly because that's me.

After my initial reaction of apologizing, I decided it would be a nice idea to shrill like Ophelia when I broke her crooked toe back straight, because that was me, of course. Apparently she thought it would be nice to yell too, her repeating "Don't hurt me, don't hurt me, don't hurt me!"'s filling the hallow hallways and echoing throughout each chamber. It is weird in a way to have somebody terryfied of me, little Rasmus who screamed at Tuesday when he threw a lame teddy bear across the room. Difference in age was not an issue either, as she looked around my age, give or take a year or two older.

Seconds after opening her eyes, her breathing slows to a normal and stops her heaving in general, until she has the balance and oxygen in her body to rise back to her feet like a balloon, that also gained oxygen to its body and rose off the ground. She stands taller than me, by a lot, but it might just be because of her hair or shoes. I look down to our feet, mine in soft blue slippers and her barefeet embracing the floor safely. In fact, I take in my total view, because I don't particularly remember throwing on a blue nightgown either. "Sorry, it's just, I-" Her voice faulters after fully gaining her balance, is it because of my weight that she is scared of me? Poking my slight pudgy belly, I try to "size up" how terryfing these extra pounds could be compared to a girl the width of my pinkie.

"Nightmares." The word forces my head to jerk up switftly enough to produce whiplash and force my hair to stab my eyes in the same act as tiny black needles. Instantly, I wipe my long-sleeved covered right arm cross my irises in order to collect the insticively formed teardrops as I scrunch my face. "Don't worry, I have nightmares too. Well, they aren't par·tic·u·lar·ly nightmares, the nurses say they are these things called Night Terrors that happen during some type of sleep levels." Here, I push my face closer to her face in an attempt to conceal my select words from other's ears. "I also have a speech impediment but I don't like to, sorry, rambling. My name is Rasmus, but you can call my Rasmus." Because I am Rasmus, Rasmus the Brave.

We gladiate but I guess we're really fighting ourselves
Roughing up our minds so we're ready when the kill time comes
Wide awake in bed, words in my brain.
"Secretly you love this, do you even wanna go free?"
Let me in the ring, I'll show you what that big word means

[Dreams]

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i wish i
was strong enough
to lift not one
but both of us

It's amazing, really, how once can change in a matter of hours. Skye did. She turned from the overprotective nervous girl I've known all of my life to the slightly more carefree one that existed for only a few days. Strange, how when we were away from our horrid parents, she seemed so much less pained. She seemed so happy, we danced around in the night to the cricket song with the moonlight to illuminate our faces. We lived the life we never had. I lived the life I never will have. She never showed any signs of being shattered to the emotional limit anymore. No more breakdowns. She was what she was meant to be. She was too much of an angel to feel broken. As for me? I'm too broken to be an angel.

Getting up felt so much better than me on the floor. It as hard and reminded me of the beds that I used to fall asleep on. Surprisingly, they are worse than the ones I currently doze off in. I look at the boy closer this time. Blue eyes, just like mine, I think. A messy mop of dark hair sits upon his head and he seems my age, maybe off by a year of so. Nothing strikes me that much about him, as nothing striking is on me. Maybe that I'm a tiny bit thinner than him ( oh that sounds so rude ), but nothing else. I remember my mother describing me, and it was rather hurtful, even though I probably shouldn't have minded because she said and did a lot more other hurtful things. "As plain as a stick, as thin as a stick, as common as a stick. Plain Evangeline."

"Don't worry, I have nightmares too. Well, they aren't par·tic·u·lar·ly nightmares, the nurses say they are these things called Night Terrors that happen during some type of sleep levels." I snap back to attention, nearly forgetting he is actually here. Is he? Could he be apart of my imagination? No, I don't hallucinate. I dream. Or so I hope so, I suppose. Then again, is this life a dream? Oh, I don't have time to think about this. I nod at him, even though I don't see how nightmares and Night Terrors differ. But nightmares sounds a lot more appealing than the latter. The only thing that really matters to me is what happens. And 'terrors' doesn't seem so wonderful. He puts his face close to mine and drops his voice to a whisper. Classified information, I assume, is being said. Maybe. I've never been good at reading social cues. But Skye did it to me, so I could only infer...

"I also have a speech impediment but I don't like to, sorry, rambling. My name is Rasmus, but you can call my Rasmus." I pretend not to notice the latter mess up in his words because I am not one to judge. There are a lot of things wrong with me, and I'd be quite the hypocrite to correct me. Ripred, if someone got a coin for every time I messed up, they'd be richer than anyone and everyone in the Capitol. Even Snow himself. Gross, disgusting Snow. Sending kids to die in an arena. Ugh, I'm getting off topic again.

"Helllo, Rasmus. It's quite alright, I don't mind much. I'm Evangeline. But you can call me Eva because my real name is a big mouthful." I reply back softly. Evangeline... I like my name. To me, it seems to have an elegance to it, an airy and light feeling as it rolls off my tongue. It seems to match me perfectly. Mysterious, complicated, graceful. It belonged to an angel, perhaps. But I'm too broken to be an angel. Call me Skye, because my sister deserves my name more than me. I'm willing to give up my beautiful name. It will never match up or pay the debt, however, of all the things my angel of a sister gave up for me. Forgive me, sister. One day, I will make sure you did not die in vain for me. One day, I will make you proud.

some day i
will be strong enough
to lift not one
but both of us

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Word count: 693 | Other: Omr Rasmus is so adorable.[/center]

[Deleted]

Rasmus Pevensy

Delicate in every way but one
God knows we like archaic kinds of fun
Chance is the only game I play with, baby
We let our battles choose us

Wednesday always told me I was brave, but I never really believed her. It just seems unlikely that somebody like me could deem fit enough for the word, somebody afraid of quantity of things to where you can turn around and name at least two things frightening you at any second. Of course, she would always make up some form of excuse like, "It doesn't matter how many things you are afraid of, just how you handle them." but that is obviously nothing but a white lie. If I told her I did not believe her though, she would probably be aggravated so I tend not to in order to avoid her wrath. I remember once I made a list of everything I was afraid of, and I hide it underneath my bed in the bottom of a shoebox so Tuesday would not find it. While "Eva", as she liked to be called, was thinking over something that was perplexing her, I tried to rename everything off the top of my head.

• Heights
  
• Breaking Bones
  
• Flying
  
• Rocking Chairs
  
• Thursday
  
• Candles
  
• Mirrors
  
• Being Alone
  

That isn't the entire list, just a quick brainstorm of the ones floating around the top of my imaginerbrum. (I-mag-i-ner-brum is a word I made up that, in a nutshell, means first imagination. I think it is poetic, but some Tuesday thinks it is lame.) I think I already discussed the breaking bones part of the list, but I'll just ignore it anyways. Some of them are irrational fears, such as Mirrors and Candles, and I never ever bothered to tell the others that I am afraid of them. I do not care what anybody says about Rocking Chairs, as a small child with balance issues and a mop of hair, I have a reason to not want to be pinned under one.

"Helllo, Rasmus. It's quite alright, I don't mind much." The soft reply snapped me from the imaginary list I was inscribing into the lobes in my mind. I can not recall what I last said, something about Rasmus? Wait, I'm Rasmus. "I'm Evangeline. But you can call me Eva, because my real name is a big mouthful." "Eva.... hmm. Eeeevvvvvaaaa.." I stuck my right (my right hand is my dominant) hand into the back of black hair nesting on top of my hair, scratching the metaphoric itch that usually sits there until I recall whatever the answer is to whatever question I have. "Nope, never heard of it before! But it is a pretty name, Evan-ga-lion, I thought Saturday named a character or soldier that at first, but I'm pretty sure he didn't now.

I think I pronounced it wrong because I was not listening all that closely when she said it. Monday always said that I don't pay attention to her all that much, and that's why I am so stupid, but I know I'm not stupid, she is just jealous. Maybe if I start paying more attention to things, I wouldn't lose things so easily.

We gladiate but I guess we're really fighting ourselves
Roughing up our minds so we're ready when the kill time comes
Wide awake in bed, words in my brain.
"Secretly you love this, do you even wanna go free?"
Let me in the ring, I'll show you what that big word means