Stray {Mary Ellen x Henry}
Feb 2, 2014 19:18:27 GMT -5
Post by Gone5eva on Feb 2, 2014 19:18:27 GMT -5
And there’s more to life than taking this pain and
There’s more to gain when you’re out there being insane.
Being sane, that’s another thing.
That’s another thing baby.
My hands gripped around the handle of the axe, fingers flexing and contracting in swift movements as I weighed it. I was reminded of the days Peter, Zachary and I worked the forests. The scent of heavy fog and forest greets me as my eyes slide closed, and I sway only the slightest bit. Around me, the sounds of tributes slicing through styrofoam, crying out in pain, and the murmur of others speaking drifts away to be replaced by mockingjay calls and axe slams.
For a split second, I am home. There are no tributes, no Hunger Games.
Simply wood to be chopped, and the lumberjacks who chop it.
The metal and rubber of this blade feels strange clutched between my digits compared to the natural wood and iron ones we have back in seven. With that thought, the perfect dream vanishes, and I am left standing alone in the center.
I long to hold onto the weapon I wish I could carry everywhere with me, but I end up putting it back onto the weapons rack. It is much like me- lonely, dark. The only axe I feel comfortable wielding. Calloused hands rise to run through my ebony hair as I attempt to shake the feeling of dread rising from the pit of my stomach. I have not spoken to anyone yet, but I can already see tentative friendships forming.
This realization hits me harder than a ton of bricks. I still haven't come to terms with my impending doom, and I doubt heading into the afterlife I'll accept it then. My jaws tense, almost glued together. I should be training, I should be learning how to fight or how to make a fire... Something useful. I wish I could depend on someone other than myself, if only to have that human contact in the final few weeks of my life.
My hands fold behind my back and I allow my blue gaze to wander. I have not yet seen Claire, the female chosen for my district, and none of the others seem too interested in what I'm doing- not yet anyway.
I release a tense breath before I turn, and begin my way back to where my axe lies. My axe. Like I would be guaranteed to have it when the games started. It slips back into my hands with ease, and I carry it as I pace towards a standalone Styrofoam human, standing before it.
My eyes close- I feel nauseous and terrified.
The swinging begins.
Loud thunks echo through the room as I plunge the weapon into imaginary flesh and bone. My face contorts uncomfortably while I butcher my prey, and I finally step back to analyze my work.
If that was a person, you would have killed them.
The thought twists my gut and I depart the scene, replacing the axe. I need to get away from it- go somewhere, anywhere. Probably somewhere I can throw up without alerting the other tributes to my weak stomach.