last words {howl interrogation}

[maverick hale 🌧️ d5 [nyte]]

[presto] d o n ' t  l e a v e  m e [/presto]
[presto] t e m p l a t e b y e l e g a n t [/presto]	[presto] H O W L   B A R N E T T And it has all come to an end. My knees fall against the concrete, teeth biting through my cheek to keep from screaming. I crumple beneath the white-clad men, making no attempt to face them as they leave me to rot in this cell. I can hear the sharp ring of clashing metal as I am locked into the cage. For in their eyes I am an animal. Just maybe, right now, that is all I am. Alone, feral, and scared. Desperate to escape when there was no actual possibility of that happening. I was damned and so was she. I wanted to hold her against my chest and beg for her forgiveness. What would she think, when I did not come home? Would she be angry or scared or in too much pain to care that I had not appeared yet? They were my brothers, at least they were supposed to be. Was coming here so terrifying that it led men who cursed the Capitol nightly to hold their tongues while I was dragged away? They'd seen me kick and scream and beg, yet not one had raised their voice. I was as alone then as I am now. The guild didn't care that I was here just as I had not cared when the others were brought here. There is room in this cell for two yet the sobs are mine alone. Desperately I push myself to the far corner of the room, pulling my knees to my chest and pressing my face against them. I don't want to be seen like this, to be seen weak. I've always had to put on a brave face, no matter how scared I was, so that Juniper would smile too and I could feel like I was actually doing something to help her. Her older brother, that's all I was, I didn't worry about what I wanted or needed and to be honest I think I've forgotten what that even was. I just want to hold her in my arms and run my fingers through her hair. I want to hear her voice, soft in my ear, as she sings a stupid song to help me sleep. The nightmares had been getting worse, not that my parents knew. When consciousness left me terrors bore down upon me like maggots to a carcass. I was helpless against them, completely wrapped up within the fictional world that my mind created. In some of them I was here and large, terrible men in white suits lay their fists upon me while I screamed and begged for it to stop. Some nights it was Juniper the peacekeepers hauled away, her eyes blank and her skin cold. Some I couldn't even remember, only waking up with sweat beaded across my brow and the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. And today I find myself living a literal nightmare. I've pinched the skin upon my arm countless times now, I've wished and begged that this all be some elaborate hoax but as the flesh turned purple and my back began to ache from curling against the cell wall I had to accept that I was here. My jaw clenches and unclenches, tongue prodding the wound i had torn into my cheek. The blood tastes faintly of metal, repulsive to the soft pink muscle. I haven't the will to vomit or perhaps I would've, I just sit, face pressed into my jeans, and I cry for the girl I have failed. I hadn't even managed to get home, to deliver the vial that I'd concealed within my coat pocket. I'd fought so hard to get out of their grip and to run home to her, one last painless night for the dying girl wrapped in a single sheet. It had only made them angrier. Yet they have the nerve to call me an animal. The whole of my body throbs, places where their fists met my skin growing red and irritated before finally settling into a deep purple kiss. I'd never been good with pain, I'd cried for ten minutes when I'd accidentally sprained my ankle while jumping a particularly high fence. (The guys never let me live that down and I was simply thankful that they didn't have the chance to see my reaction to other injuries.) But now, I am numb. I can feel the aching within my limbs but it is nothing in comparison to my breaking heart. They were going to kill me. What was the use of releasing a delinquent from Twelve? What reason did they have to keep me alive?! I don't want to die. Not only for Juniper, but for me as well. Maybe we struggled to make ends meet and maybe I've taken out so much tessera I could not count the times my name was entered into the reaping, but I enjoyed that annoying pounding within my chest. I reveled in the feeling of air entering my lungs and then leaving it once they were satisfied. Being poor, being on the brink of starvation, had not made me bitter. It didn't make me hate the Capitol or anyone better off than me, quite honestly I never gave them much thought. It made me appreciate everything I was given. The times when mom and dad did not fight and they held me in their arms. I felt safe there, I felt invincible. Nothing could hurt me. But I'm alone now. But I'm scared now. And I'm going to die. [/presto]	[presto] p r i s o n e r [/presto]
[presto] a t  t h e  e n d  o f  t h e  c o l d  w o r l d [/presto]

[gamemaker kelsier]

[presto] l i v i n g   i n   a   d a r k   t o w e r [/presto]
[presto] s e v e n t e e n [/presto]	[presto] L E O   F E N W I C K The stench of corrosion was nearly unbearable. There was a rot in the building, starting at it's center, waves of it travelling like fog through the hallways. Leo was bent over the bathroom sink, taught with sickness. He had been feeling ill since a little while after so many months before. At first, it was good to be here. He felt as if he were doing good work for his country. After sometime, he began to dread the interrogations. It was certainly true that since his sister's murder he disliked the criminals he dealt with but at the same time, Leo was nothing more than a programmed piece of machinery. He had been taught to despise the people in the districts through audio learnings, as well as visual and sensory. Propaganda had been thrown in his face from a young age, but Leo had never known how to connect to the feelings he was meant to have. Instead of feeling pride for the Capitol, the propaganda had always left him uneasy. Despite the fact that while he was growing up, he had questioned what he was meant to believe, Lilac being taken from him had only proved the point. He was told to hate the people from the Districts. Lilac's death was proof that he should. He could not understand how beating criminals to within an inch of their lives was giving them justice. He understood that they deserved it, but lately he had begun to wonder just why it was acceptable to take someone's tongue from them when they had stolen an apple, or maybe trespassed two feet onto government property. He lurched backwards, nearly falling in front of the toilet as he emptied his stomach of the small lunch he had tried to eat earlier. If this kept up much longer, he would have to request some time for sick leave. Guilt left his stomach in knots even if he could not understand what the emotion was. He shut his eyes for a moment, leaning his head against the tiled wall, breaths coming shallow and quick. "FENWICK," the voice accompanied a knock on the door, "YOU'VE BEEN ASSIGNED CELL A04." He moaned softly and opened his eyes, feeling the tiniest bit emptier inside than usual. He had no name for the feeling. Lilac had not been around to explain emotions to him for a very long time. Carefully, he stood up and moved back to the sink to splash some water on his face and rinse the taste of vomit out of his mouth. With precise movements, he dried his face using a fresh towel and then replaced his white helmet over his head. - He marched in tandem beside the Peacekeeper that had come to assist him. A woman named Alvera, who was known for her temper as well as her mean left hook. The intimidation tactic worked easily. As they traversed the hallways to level 'A', the people in the cells made themselves as small as possible, afraid to be chosen as today's victim. Despite his growing uneasiness with the orders given to him, it had never occurred to Leo to simply refuse to follow them. in his world, everything was black and white, there were no greys. Breaking the rules was deserving of punishment. If Leo broke the rules he would receive it not only from the Peacekeepers but from his father in turn. He had been told not to disobey and so unquestioningly, he did not do so. Upon reaching the cell, he waited patiently as Alvera slipped her key card into the cell's locking mechanism. It was this part that he disliked the most. He wasted no time once the cell's door opened, moving mechanically across the room to make sure the criminal did not put up a struggle. The easiest way to make that this did not happen was to kick them before they could. He did so impassively, booted foot finding the rib cage of a boy who couldn't be any older than he was. Alvera rushed across the room and offered her foot to his other side. And so it began. [/presto]	[presto] p e a c e k e e p e r [/presto]
[presto] g e t t i n g   d a r k e r   b y   t h e   h o u r [/presto]

[maverick hale 🌧️ d5 [nyte]]

[presto] d o n ' t  l e a v e  m e [/presto]
[presto] t e m p l a t e b y e l e g a n t [/presto]	[presto] H O W L   B A R N E T T There's a certain dread that overwhelms me when two approach my door. I press my forehead deeper against my knees, shoulders shaking violently from fear and stifled sobs. I was not ignorant enough to hope for mercy, or to hope that there is any humanity left within those white suits to appeal to. They're monsters. I'd seen it every day back in Twelve, hiding behind their visors and wielding their weapons when they know damn well we'd be stupid to fight back. Peacekeepers live off of power and pride, we're not humans to them we're sheep to be herded and controlled. One approaches swiftly and I try to back further against the wall. I raise my hands in a desperate attempt to convey that I will not struggle, that I mean no harm so please don't hurt me. The truth is, I don't think they care. A foot connects with my skin, and as hard as I try to remain silent and strong because that is how she would want to see me, I can't. My little sister wouldn't want to hear the whimper that escapes with the first blow and the mangled cry that rattles my chest upon the second. Pain snakes up every part of my body, limbs going limp in protest. I try to curl in on myself to avoid anymore pain but they are not done. No, with horror I realize that this is just the beginning. I do not know how Juniper deals with her constant pain. This moment, I remember way she would grimace each time she moved and that if she pushed herself too hard her eyes would dim and she would fall limp upon her bed. And every day, when I asked her how she felt, she would force a smile and tell me she felt better than the last day. She was going to be okay. And she'd make grabbing motions for my cheek and I would always lay it in her palm even if it was cold and clammy from fever. She would give me butterfly kisses because those were he favorite kind. ("I like to imagine that I can fly, Howl. Fly and run and do everything that I've ever wanted. What do you think freedom would be like, brother?") I cannot only grimace at this pain. I curl my arms around my body and breathe heavily, begging for it to fade. I'm given no time to recover before hands wrench at my wrists. My tongue bleeds because I bit it to stifle a scream. Warm, metallic blood flees the wound, coating my lips before they had time to call for it themselves. My lungs still protest after their blows and as a panic sets in I can only manage short, desperate breaths as they drag me across the floor, as though I'm already a corpse they were charged with disposing of. I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to- They throw me into a chair and I cannot relish the relief for long. I'm trying so desperately to be strong for her. I want to be the hero that she always thought I was. I can't think of how much seeing me in this state would hurt her. I'll never be a cause of her pain, it was a promise I'd made to myself long ago. Mustering what strength remained, I look up at them. My head tilts to the side and the world spins but I try to focus. Eyes desperately searching their visors for some sign of humanity, I'm not surprised that I find nothing. "So, what's the prognosis?" I lick my lips and smile in spite of myself. It's nothing close to a real smile. It's bitter and angry and filled with spite for those in front of me. "How long do I have 'til you kill me?" [/presto]	[presto] p r i s o n e r [/presto]
[presto] a t  t h e  e n d  o f  t h e  c o l d  w o r l d [/presto]

[gamemaker kelsier]

[presto] l i v i n g   i n   a   d a r k   t o w e r [/presto]
[presto] s e v e n t e e n [/presto]	[presto] L E O   F E N W I C K He felt nothing but the pain in his stomach as he and Alvera dragged the boy down the hall between them. Sweat dripped down his neck already and he licked his lips beneath the helmet. Spit filled his mouth and for a moment, he thought he was going to be sick again. He grunted slightly with the effort of taking the boy in his hands. Alvera did not seem bothered about letting his body knock against steps and stairs but Leo was more careful. Without meaning to, he lifted the criminal's arm slightly with each step they took, as if to bear some of his weight for him. He was often unconsciously kind, as if his truer nature, the one that belonged to the boy who believed in myths and still questioned things was trying to peek through. Alvera helped him drag the boy into an interrogation room. A two way mirror was meant to take the space of one of the walls. One Peacekeeper was assigned to watch the other so that they could step in if the one doing the interrogating became too worked up. More often than not, the other interrogator did not step in. More often than not, people died in these rooms beneath the renegade fist of a man or woman performing 'justice'. However, this room was older and only held a security camera in the left corner. Today, Alvera would be watching from the security room on level 'B' while Leo went through the motions of an interrogation. The ending was pre-decided. This was all for show, to break them. Those were the orders Leo had been given since day one. Crush them until there is nothing left. At first, Leo had performed his duties with gusto, years of pent up rage over his sister's murder by the hands of an Avox making him brutal. He quickly became known as an excellent interrogator and was moved up to the harder cases faster than most. At first he had been pleased with his assignment but it had quickly lost it's appeal. Now he simply performed as expected, self-hatred breaking him down, eroding him. They secure him into a chair, it does not take much. The criminal in question does not seem to want to put up much of a fight. Leo does not let this faze him. Teenagers were always trickier than adults. They either turned into children while in this room or they were eerie in their resolve. After they finish, the boy speaks. "How long do I have 'til you kill me?" The question is not an unusual one. The way that it is phrased is. He did not question if they would kill him, but rather when. Leo wondered about the boy's mental health. He was rather morbid. Alvera seemed to wonder about it as well but instead of voicing her thoughts, she pulled back her fist and hit the boy in his stomach. Leo watched as she did so. Sometimes the two sparred in the commons and it had taken him nearly two weeks to figure out how to see that punch coming. She left the boy to Leo, shutting the door behind her as she glided out. With her exit, Leo began the interrogation. Although it was slightly unorthodox for a detention center Peacekeeper to do so, he reached up and removed his helmet. He had begun to feel claustrophobic as soon as he had put it on, removing it was a relief. With careful movements, he ran a hand through his hair to smooth it down and then placed the helmet down on the table beside him. Slowly, he pulled a form from his pocket and began to read through it, taking his time in order to let his fear grow. Finally, he turned around to deal with the criminal, reading information off of the form, "Your name is Howl Barnett, you are from the Twelfth District and you are sixteen years of age, correct?" [/presto]	[presto] p e a c e k e e p e r [/presto]
[presto] g e t t i n g   d a r k e r   b y   t h e   h o u r [/presto]

[maverick hale 🌧️ d5 [nyte]]

[presto] d o n ' t  l e a v e  m e [/presto]
[presto] t e m p l a t e b y e l e g a n t [/presto]	[presto] H O W L   B A R N E T T My words only earn me more pain. It's satisfying in a way, to think that what I had said was not what they wanted. Perhaps they would have hit me anyway, but the throbbing in my abdomen only worsened the more I breathed. The words were not worth the pain but I spoke anyway. I give a hearty cough, the blood running down my throat clotting and rumbling within. It burns my lungs and it takes all I can to hold my head up one more. They've tied me to the chair, and I cannot say I didn't expect it. I've never been so certain that I was going to die. One leaves the room and the other raises their hand. My eyes close upon instinct, awaiting another blow but none came. He speaks instead. I move my head quickly, eyes searching his face and regarding him with disbelief. It was not a peacekeeper who spoke, but a child. He was at most eighteen and even then I had a hard time believing it. There was coldness within his eyes, eerie in the way that it did not match his physique. I don't question his talents but for some reason he leaves me more disturbed than scared. In answer I nod, "Nice to meet you," my lips have never felt so dry as I look at him. My heart seems to be attempting to throw itself at my captor, still eager to fight when my resolve died more and more each minute. "You're..." I gasp, shaking my head and tightening my grip on the chair's arms "You're young." It was an obvious statement but the words sent a chill down my spine. Perhaps it would have been easier to be killed by my elder, struck down simply and easily. Their innocence had died long ago. I didn't want to look a kid in the eyes as he killed me. "I know that you don't care-." I stumble over my words, grasping at them like straws that had already fallen into the rapids. Perhaps I mumbled, and perhaps no one could make out the language I was barely speaking, but I force my eyes to his because he was going to know who I was. I wasn't going to be Howl Barnett of the Twelfth District. I was going to be a person before I died. "why I did what I did. It won't change a damn thing anyway because-" she might as well already be dead. I can't finish the sentence, my throat refuses to make a sound. So I start over. "She would have died if I didn't." Maybe I wanted someone to know about her after I was gone. Maybe someone would help her where I couldn't. (I'm so sorry I couldn't save you, little butterfly.) Maybe I want to be pitied for once in my life because I've never been met with anything but a cold fist to the cheek. A constant reminder of that's how things are and how stupid it was to keep a dead girl alive. She took up food, water, warmth, why didn't we just let her die because everything would have been easier that way. No one in Twelve had understood and I don't expect anyone here to understand either. But even the mention of her breaks me. I'd broken myself before they ever could because my head slumps and I sob. I don't know when I started to care for myself so little. That I could be beat and broken and not shed a single tear, that I could bite myself until I bleed just to stay strong, but the mention of a little girl tore down every facade I once possessed. Tears flow freely because I cannot wipe them away. I don't look at him, just down at my lap and try not to see how tiny I looked tied to a chair like this. I try not to think of how pathetic I am. [/presto]	[presto] p r i s o n e r [/presto]
[presto] a t  t h e  e n d  o f  t h e  c o l d  w o r l d [/presto]

[gamemaker kelsier]

[presto] l i v i n g   i n   a   d a r k   t o w e r [/presto]
[presto] s e v e n t e e n [/presto]	[presto] L E O   F E N W I C K Fundamentally, there was something wrong with a society that thought it was perfectly normal for a child to kill a child. Leo knew this, it was written in the old philosophy books in the house he had grown up in. It often said that children were the future. Leo had found this idea intriguing simply because their's was a society bent on their very destruction. Everything in Leo's path had been set out to wash his innocence away. He had seen weapons used on those he loved at a very young age and had been handed one when he was even younger. He was desensitized with constant Capitol propaganda in the form of the Hunger Games and had been taught that a twelve year old could kill another twelve year old if given the right circumstances. Age had never really mattered to Leo. If he was old enough to grieve, then he was old enough to hurt. People often had excuses. Leo always listened attentively to them because if his charges found it important to say then he should find it important to listen. Sometimes the excuses were disgusting, they longed to perverted things. Sometimes Leo actually did feel as if he were helping people by putting some people in chains or taking out their tongue. Sometimes he knew that when he killed a man, he was saving lives. Other times it was not as clear. He struggled with it. Given a good enough excuse, Leo could come to terms with what he was doing. This boy was sobbing into his lap. Possibly over a girlfriend or something of the like. Leo was not certain, he had not been given enough information. Calmly, he went about his business as the odd boy dampened his pants. On the table beside him was a number of instruments, one of them being a powerful sedative that took about an hour's time to take hold. If given before beginning the interrogation, it would take just enough time to only kick in after the tongue removal so that the patient would feel an optimum amount of pain. The Capitol wanted their Avox to understand that pain was what they had been sentenced to. Leo thought it was inhumane. However, he could not disobey his orders. He prepared the syringe calmly, making certain that the correct amount was inside, so that it would work properly. "Who would have died?" he asked calmly, more to keep the boy talking than out of actual interest. He did not allow himself to grow attached to the criminals he dealt with. It was dangerous and Leo knew that they were less than human anyway. Those who ended up here had to do something illegal and most likely violent. They were despicable and cruel things that lived without conscience, or so he had been taught to believe. He flicked the needle carefully, holding it up to the light in order to double check the amount. An overdose could result in death. [/presto]	[presto] p e a c e k e e p e r [/presto]
[presto] g e t t i n g   d a r k e r   b y   t h e   h o u r [/presto]

[maverick hale 🌧️ d5 [nyte]]

[presto] d o n ' t  l e a v e  m e [/presto]
[presto] t e m p l a t e b y e l e g a n t [/presto]	[presto] H O W L   B A R N E T T Who would have died? I'm tempted to laugh at the irony of his statement. He couldn't have known that she's already as good as dead. That my being here doesn't make me a martyr, it makes me a failure. "My sister." The words sting as they leave my lips, earning another sob and a fresh flood of tears. "She's only seven. Probably shouldn't have even made it to five." I spit those words, regarding him finally through eyes swollen with grief. He holds a syringe and had I eaten anything that day it would have left me then. I remember how Juniper had screamed when injected with medicine that was meant to help her. I don't think I'll be granted such a kindness. Bile rises in my throat and I must look away to stop myself from being sick. It's hypocritical, how nauseated I get at the mere notion of being injected with something. Hadn't I done the same to Juniper, told her it was for her own good without actually knowing what the medicine would do? "Those things-" I manage, swallowing hard "Someone got me needles and I gave her medicine because she was always in pain." Even worse pain than I am now in, I'd think. She lived with it every day, regarding the world with strength that I'd always admired. She called me a hero when it was her all along. I pull against my bonds, not in an attempt to escape but to stay conscious. Hunger gnaws at my stomach and thirst at my neck. If it were possible to feel bruises bloom upon your skin, that is what I felt now. A deep burning from where the peacekeepers had hit me. I'm not foolish enough to think that this peacekeeper cares about my sister. That he cares what I did or if I deserve my punishment. He can feign interest all he wants and I'll take any fake sympathies he'll give me. It's what I need right now, reassurance that just maybe someone would care about the little girl after I was gone. After my body had been mutilated and disposed of or whatever they did to kids like me. Questions rest on the tip of my tongue. How'd you get to be like this? How old are you? What's your name? Why are you so cold? They've nearly left me on numerous occasions but this is my interrogation, not his. It'd only earn me more pain to ask them and I don't want to know how they'd wake me up if I passed out. "She's got eyes like stars. The most beautiful thing I've ever known." That much was true enough. I'd never had much time to stop and appreciate beauty. Everything moves fast when you're constantly on the brink of starvation. You have to get going and get your next meal or else your body's gonna end up on the streets. My life had fell into a kind of pattern before I got here. Wake, Eat, Steal, Juniper, Sleep, Repeat. That is, if I was lucky enough to get some scraps before joining my guild. I can barely remember their faces now. But hers is there, always in my mind's eye. Face bloated with illness, pale and nearly always coated with sweat. Her lips were small and red, they'd always curl upwards when she saw me and her eyes would open wide. They shone under the dim lamplight. [/presto]	[presto] p r i s o n e r [/presto]
[presto] a t  t h e  e n d  o f  t h e  c o l d  w o r l d [/presto]

[gamemaker kelsier]

[presto] l i v i n g   i n   a   d a r k   t o w e r [/presto]
[presto] s e v e n t e e n [/presto]	[presto] L E O   F E N W I C K It had never occurred to Leo, underneath all of his layers of hatred, grief and confusion that the people who he was torturing were not made in singular units. He had never been into the Districts themselves, his career had begun here, in the dank and dark of the Detention Center. He'd never seen the criminals origins, and because of that, he had been able to continue to view them as less than human. He had lost the idea, somewhere along the line in his years of training, somewhere along the line in his childhood that once upon a time he had loved someone as much as this boy seemed to. Leo had had a sister, once upon a time. An older sister, who he had loved dearly and idolized. In his eyes, his sister was unable to do any wrong. Everything she said he believed, everything she did and was, he loved. He'd wanted nothing more than to protect her, and to keep her safe as his father had told him to do. Even now, in this room smelling of fear and sweet, he could remember the scent of her perfume, of her silk dress. The memory of her smile was etched into his brain, cruelly. He couldn't understand why it stayed with him so strongly. He didn't understand why the image of her, lying there, haunted him so horribly. No other memory in his life stayed with him so strongly. He didn't understand why it hurt so badly, like a wound that wouldn't close. It was just always hurting. He swallowed thickly and moved out of Howl's field of vision, the feeling in his stomach making him nauseous. He hadn't wanted to think of her today, survival was possible by not thinking about Lilac. Everything was able to be done by doing it mechanically, by not actually thinking. He pressed his free hand to his forehead and breathed heavily. Stop thinking. Stop. He moved quickly. With speed, but astounding gentleness, he pulled Howl's sleeve up and tied a bit of rubber around his upper arm. He found the correct vein quickly, due to many months of practice and slipped the needle into the boy's arm to inject him with the sedative. He would not feel anything until the sluggish mixture made it's way to his heart. How ironic it truly was that this boy had worked hard to give his sister vials of pain killer, only to have a fortune's amount injected into his arm. Leo's mouth tasted bitter. "My sister," he said, voice soft and barely audible, "Was the only person that I ever loved." It was as if he were trying to remind himself of where his allegiance lay. He could not pity this boy, just because he had a sister. He was the enemy. He was the criminal, the boy to be Avoxed. He was no better than any of the others, just because he wept for his sister, just because he loved her and wanted to protect her. But Leo just wanted to understand. Why it hurt. [/presto]	[presto] p e a c e k e e p e r [/presto]
[presto] g e t t i n g   d a r k e r   b y   t h e   h o u r [/presto]

[maverick hale 🌧️ d5 [nyte]]

[presto] d o n ' t  l e a v e  m e [/presto]
[presto] t e m p l a t e b y e l e g a n t [/presto]	[presto] H O W L   B A R N E T T The needle gliding into my flesh is the most sickening thing I've felt in a while. I seize at the motion, attempting to rip my arm out of harms way to no avail. I'm left to bury my face in my shoulder and await the pain. I'd seen it on her face, as the harsh liquid went through her veins, the tears welling in her eyes as she tried to be strong. I feel none of it for a while. Just a sudden cold and sweet nothing. He speaks of his own sister with a word that makes my heart skip a beat. Was. That was no slip of the tongue, no mistake any brother would ever make. She was, not is, she was. I search for his eyes and perhaps if I could, I would have hugged him because I knew what it was like. And no man, peacekeeper or not, deserves that pain. "I'm sorry, Peacekeeper. That pain is-," It hits just then. A sharp, awful stinging in my chest that brings forth a scream. I thrash about, trying to move and to make the pain go away. I try to rip my skin against the ropes to ebb the pain in my heart. It burns. Like white hot flame consuming me. I wonder if this is how I was to die. Had he killed me without even speaking a word of it? Tears that had begun to stop burn new paths down my cheeks. I am no hero in the face of death. I am a coward. It fades after what seems like hours. My head slumps and my breath comes in shallow gasps. My shoulders rise and fall almost comically. I haven't the strength to raise my head so I stare at my lap and laugh. It burns but I laugh. "I thought that I would be a hero in here, you know? I'd be strong for her because that's how she saw me. I was her hero, Peacekeeper. Look at me now." More bitter laughter bubbles from my throat and it causes a new wave of pain to seize through my limbs. "But anyone can seem like a hero when you're bedridden right? When you can barely stand without passing out from pain. Can you tell me that I was wrong to try and save her? Should I have watched her die instead?" There's no grief laced within my tone. It has turned cold, surprising even myself. Perhaps it is because I am stating the truth. I am being punished for saving my sister. Had I abided by the laws, gone to work in the mines when I'd turned eighteen, done everything I was supposed to to avoid ending up here, she would have died. My life would not have been worth living because I would have sat and watched a little girl die without lifting a finger. If this peacekeeper was going to look me in the eyes, having lost a sister himself, and tell me that that was what I should have done. That he would have done the same in my situation then I know there is no hope left for me and I should just die right now because this world if past redemption. I feel such hatred for the man torturing me, and maybe I pity him too. [/presto]	[presto] p r i s o n e r [/presto]
[presto] a t  t h e  e n d  o f  t h e  c o l d  w o r l d [/presto]

[gamemaker kelsier]

[presto] l i v i n g   i n   a   d a r k   t o w e r [/presto]
[presto] s e v e n t e e n [/presto]	[presto] L E O   F E N W I C K She was so present as the boy writhed in his trappings. For a moment, Leo felt near hatred for Howl, who'd made him remember the sweetness in his life even if it was only for the briefest of moments. It was a sweetness that had been stolen from him. Lilac had been killed by an ex-criminal turned Avox from the districts. Leo's job was to make sure all criminals were thoroughly broken before being sent tongueless to the Capitol. He could make sure that no one else was murdered, that's why. That's why I do this. Still, he moved out of Howl's field of vision, having to cover his mouth again in order to regain his senses. The screaming. Maybe the sounds of pain, maybe they were getting to him just a little. Lilac probably screamed Leo, you do this for girls like Lilac. But she wouldn't have wanted this. But she's dead. "I was her hero, Peacekeeper, look at me now." The statement hit too close to home and he shut his eyes to it, knowing that people were watching from the security cameras, probably wondering why he was being so weak. Normally he went through these things unfazed, fists finding ribs and jaws and ears. He had made blood spring fresh from untainted skin too many times to count, had discovered bruises and broken bones without a word. What was wrong with him today? He hadn't been feeling well for quite some time but it had never affected his work so strongly before. Yesterday he'd beat a child rapist half to death before they stopped him. Today he can barely look at Howl without feeling sick. "Should I have watched her die instead?" He turned back away from the wall, stumbling forwards again. A cold sweat forming on the back of his neck. No. He wanted to shout it at him, no. If he had the chance, if there was anything he could do to get Lilac back, even if it meant he could go to jail for it, he would do it, every single time. If he could just see his older sister again, if he could feel her arms around him, telling him it would be okay, he would cut out his tongue and give it to the Capitol on a silver platter. They could take all of him, they could unwind him fully, piece by piece until there was nothing left. He would give them all of him if he could just see her again. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes for the first time in what felt like years and he leaned over Howl, pressing his hands upon either side of the chair. "Scream," he told him, voice rough, "Like I am hurting you, do it. Loudly." He waited for the other boy to do as he asked, a plan forming haphazardly in his head like a wild flower in a concrete path. [/presto]	[presto] p e a c e k e e p e r [/presto]
[presto] g e t t i n g   d a r k e r   b y   t h e   h o u r [/presto]

[maverick hale 🌧️ d5 [nyte]]

[presto] d o n ' t  l e a v e  m e [/presto]
[presto] t e m p l a t e b y e l e g a n t [/presto]	[presto] H O W L   B A R N E T T The silence flows like music between the both of us, my heavy pants breaking thick air, tears against dirty jeans as loud as a pin dropped in a room made of metal. They clatter and ricochet, sliding down onto the bloodstained floor. And the longer the inevitable pain crawls away, the more excruciating it becomes. I'm shaking and trying to rip my hands from the cuffs. And I don't want to hurt anyone I just want to go home and to hold Junie because she must be in pain and scared and I know mom and dad are probably fighting and I'm not there to lock the door and assure her how much they really love each other. And the guilt has replaced my blood with shards of glass that crawl sluggishly through my body. The peacekeeper has floated out of my vision once more, probably carried off by his high horse as he prepares another instrument of my torture. Maybe the Capitolites are more fucked up than I even thought. Did the peacekeeper even have a sister? Was he simply toying with me to make my death all the more intolerable? He's said not a syllable in answer to my question. Taking for granted the precious seconds of calm we have before another storm hits. There's a morbid curiosity pulling my tongue from my mouth, across chapped lips carefully. I want to get to know my murderer because I don't think many really have that oppourtunity. Had we more time I'd have invited him over for tea, we could have spoke of my destruction like civilized people. (Though both of us are more like beasts than men.) And I've not enough time to tell him of my musings before he's hovering over me, arms bracing either side of my throne and trapping me. He speaks, voice a low growl and I close my eyes tight, preparing for pain. Preparing for the scoldings my words before had brought me, sharp stings to my skin and aches along my spine. None of it comes. "Scream." he demands, and his voice is filled with such authority that I must bite my tongue to stop from obeying. Instead I look up at him, gaze filled with challenging for a long while. And I ponder what to do. "Next time..." I mutter, taking a deep breath and fighting the fear rampaging like fire across my finger tips. "...say please." The scream tears across my throat so violently that I can taste the blood. [/presto]	[presto] p r i s o n e r [/presto]
[presto] a t  t h e  e n d  o f  t h e  c o l d  w o r l d [/presto]

[gamemaker kelsier]

[presto] l i v i n g   i n   a   d a r k   t o w e r [/presto]
[presto] s e v e n t e e n [/presto]	[presto] L E O   F E N W I C K in all honesty he doesn't have any ideas past this one. He just knows that despite his peculiar behavior over the past few minutes, if anything will put those watching at ease, it is a scream. If screams could be harvested as a natural resource, the Detention Center would be the top supplier. Leo couldn't properly say how many screams he had heard in his time here but lately he seemed to have a constant headache because of it. He winced slightly as Howl screamed, brain moving a mile per moment in an effort to come up with an idea that would save him. He didn't know why he wanted to save him but he had a sister that he wanted to protect and he could understand that, the weight of loving someone to the point of self-mutilation. Maybe someone like Howl was the catalyst that Leo had been waiting for or maybe he was just tired of feeling like he couldn't breath, the feeling of sinking down deeper and deeper everyday. He was tired of the horrible guilt on his chest, the way his older sister seemed to haunt him with every step he took. Maybe he just wanted someone to protect again. He had been created to protect, after all. He stepped backwards, away from Howl and brutally kicked the leg of the chair, angling his body so that in the viewpoint of the camera, it looked as if he were kicking the leg of the prisoner. "Please, scream again," he whispered. Pain shot through his foot but it was barely registered. During this time, he tried to think up a plausible excuse as to why he should be allowed to return home. Truthfully, the head of Interrogations barely ever let anyone return, not unless she was thoroughly satisfied with the punishment that they had received. More often than note, cleared criminals greeted their loved ones in a body bag. Facing away from the camera, he grinned suddenly as his mind finally settled on an answer. Perhaps he could achieve the impossible, if he was lucky and Psyche was feeling merciful, he might succeed. Spinning on his heel, he placed his hands behind his back, feet shoulder width apart and stood straight, staring squarely up at the camera. "I recommend this prisoner be discharged, on rule nine five three thirty-four, due to the fact that he is underage and is physically healthy enough to enter work in the mines upon turning eighteen." Then he waited, the camera's screen staring blankly down at him, a disinterested god. [/presto]	[presto] p e a c e k e e p e r [/presto]
[presto] g e t t i n g   d a r k e r   b y   t h e   h o u r [/presto]

[maverick hale 🌧️ d5 [nyte]]

[presto] d o n ' t  l e a v e  m e [/presto]
[presto] t e m p l a t e b y e l e g a n t [/presto]	[presto] H O W L   B A R N E T T I've always been shit at admitting my wrongs. Which is a bit unfortunate because I'm wrong quite often. That's what I realize as I watch the Peacekeeper morph before my eyes. His fangs retract, red-tinged pupils replaced by that of dark uncertainty. He shrinks too, becomes so small that I think if I were to stand I'd be taller than he. He's not a peacekeeper anymore. Not an instrument of torture and fear, he's not an omen of death. He's a boy. Just like me. And I don't know what he's doing but he's trying to help me I think. "Please scream again." He whispers and I have to fight the smile crawling onto my lips, one that tugs the on corner of my lip ever so slightly. I don't feel so alone now, despite the incessant thumping of my heart, the way it's crawling into my throat. The peacekeeper boy steps back, and my body tenses as he pulls his foot back. I close my eyes, jerking backwards as he strikes and I prepare for the sharp stinging that has become such an intimate brother since arriving. His foot connects with the leg of the chair and I'm so shocked I barely remember to scream in time. What. I mouth the words silently, examining the boy from head to toe as if that will somehow explain his actions. But all he is, all he appears to be, is a kid in a peacekeeper's suit who has some plan that I'm far too stupid to realize. He turns away and a small part of me panics, kicking my legs and thrashing my body in my bonds. The friendly face has disappeared from my line of vision, and I'm all alone again when I don't want to be. I'm not one to cling to people, I've taken care of myself ever since Junie was born and Mom and Dad wouldn't stop fighting. Ever since Mom quit her job and I was too young to work in the mines and we stopped eating every night and dad's hair started falling out. And I forged my own path, took matters into my own hands and raised the money that my parents couldn't. The fact of the matter is I don't need anyone. But I don't want to be left alone. "Hey! Wait-" my words fall to the floor as the boy begins to speak. A string of numbers that make absolutely no sense to me and a reccomendation that I be sent ho- And just like that, realization overcomes me. As brutal and violent as the explosions in the mines back home. White hot flames melt my skin away because he's trying to save me. The boy disguised as a peacekeeper is trying to save my life and I want to shout at him to stop but it's too late because silence has fallen over the room."No one goes home." I mutter, voice shaking at the horrible realization. "What are you doing?! No one goes home. No one has ever come home! What are you-" My throat strangles every word. [/presto]	[presto] p r i s o n e r [/presto]
[presto] a t  t h e  e n d  o f  t h e  c o l d  w o r l d [/presto]