a hate that burns deeper than hope. {preston oneshot}

[thompson harvard - d2b - arc]

Preston Hope

I was such a nit to think my sister, Lily Hope, would get much farther from the man named death than the person who had placed second place. I was such a dimwit to think that she would aviate through these games just like the axes that she had grown to know so well and she'd make her mark in the capitol, just like the mark she had made in the District One male, Tybalt Capulet. But she would fly much farther than that in my dreams and hopes, ad make her mark on Panem as the first district eight victor in what seems like years. My hand clenches the bottle I had held in my hand as I stare at the screen, where two tributes from district two stand. A male and a female. I glare at both of them, and then the glare grows more, enlargens as if it were a balloon, blowing more as it inflates, blowing up more and more. More and more until it'll pop. To remember the day I had found a hope for her- the day she had survived that damn cornucopia mutt, that mutt had taken out two tributes in an instant and thank ripred one of them wasn't her.

I can't help but stare at the screen, so confused, so surprised she died so sudden. Just moments ago, she was a bird, flying and being a success due to it, but all she is now is a lost sock in a bedroom; never to be found and lost in everyones memories, but not mine. She'll never be lost in my mind, as she's the best part of my life and someone I'm not sure I can live without. Lily Hope is my life companion, someone I had to protect with my own life, I was supposed to die before her. I guess nothing always goes as planned, correct? That's not what I was always told.

I always believed that it was my job to take care of Lily, make sure she was safe and make sure she didn't do anything foolish. But really I was the one that had made the kook of a mistake. I am the reason that she had volunteered for the games, and that itself made me a failure in my task in life; to keep her cherished and unharmed by any of the outside world.

Standing in that hospital at the age of four, I remember holding her, little, tiny Lily Hope in my arms and looking at her straight in the eyes and whispering to her the words that I have failed to do. "I'll be the best big brother ever." Now that is all a lie, a forgotten memory and piece of time that I have turned into a lie. Belief is that it was all a dream; her volunteering and I was in a coma this whole time, and this is some crazy fucked up dream where I can flash from the day she had been brought into this world and I held her for the first time; but now she's just a sprawled figure on the ground. Her hair lying in a fan as she layed there, bleeding out and the cannon sounding, making the event saliet to me. It is true. Lily Hope is dead dying.

The only thing holding her body now is a wooden box.

It all seems like a fable, a tall tale that she died really. But how could it be a piece of fiction when the nonfiction reality is right in front of my on a screen? The games were all new, all kinds of crazy this time around. Nine tributes, that's of now if you include Lily have died in an instant. A single hit from someone, something killed them, and the somthing? A monster; something that hides in all of our minds, under our beds and in our everyday life, waiting for the perfect moment to finish his prey off. Once his  deed is done, they're on a boat, floating down a river towards a man that would welcome them to a place somewhere far away, his name? The Reaper. Yes, the reaper. He had claimed her death and he shall welcome her to death. It's simple.

But obviously not simple for some. They just think that the monster is their own body, their own mind that leads them to do the work for that monster and it isn't how it should work. It should work in a lot of ways, almost like a factory with machines doing all the work, but this factory is slowly shutting down, slowly becoming less until one remains and they're horrified by the rmains of the factory that used to be filled with multiple others. My fists tremble in anger, showing their want for release but they can't find something to give release on. My hand clenches around the bottle, and it feels nice in my hand, it holds its place. I swing it around a little bit, and I realize that it's perfect for a weapon, or something to throw. We have another television somewhere- right? I hope so.

My hands find them swinging in a circular motion despite the family either finding out damn soon or not even knowing about Lily's death. And I don't care if they ground me. I need to do something, throw something to release my anger. That's what I do. Releasing the glass bottle it flies towards the television screen, making a loud crash and it steams out, bellowing and crackling as the electricity tries to do its job still but it just can't.

That felt good. I liked throwing that, but I still need more. More to throw, more to release the newborn anger found inside my mind. It's almost like there's someone in there, controlling me, telling me to do more. And I guess I must be pretty convinced, because I do.

I rub my hands and my mind is full with ideas, possible things to make people pay for watching my sisters death and not having any feelings for the girl, they'll have no worries about the girl I held in my arms on the day of her birth and move onto the next games to see whose poor souls will have to be sent into that arena to fight just like my sister did. Just to find two more bodies filled in a wooden box being sent back to District Eight like normal. It's a continuing cycle that nobody from our district finds unfamiliar. 

There's a candle that rests on a table in our dining room, I know it's there because we've eaten there together as a family for the weeks following the day we had been one less of a family. My parents always thought that it was a good plan to remove the thought of Lily from out mind, but it's almost impossible to forget with the empty seat besides me every time we ate there. I step into our bathroom to grab something wooden, something flammable but there's nothing. I'll have to make use of my environment, something that might sound good at first, but the result will be an even more empty and depressed look inside of my eyes. I take the candle that's inside our dining room and walk outside, trying to make sure its flame doesn't go out just as sudden Lily had. There was a larger stick laying on the ground nearby our house and I pick it up. Inspecting it I can't help but grin.

There was no chance of me backing out of this stunt. I wasn't going to. There is a fire lit inside of me, inside of my crazed mind that craves for vengeance. However going to district two and hunting down the families of Circe Lyon and Orion Hammerfell didn't seem realistic though that'd be damn wonderful. Dipping the dry end of the stick into the flame, I jump back slightly in surprise of how quick it had caught fire. I grin, staring at it like a madman. I guess I might get used to the look now too. It's a fire, building more and more just like the insanity that has been born inside of me. I place the candle on the steps of our porch, trying not to light our own house on fire. However that'd be a good idea too, I have no other family to care for so why bother trying to keep their lives going when I have the chance to do it right now?

"They have each other to live for, all I have to live for is a dead corpse." I whisper to myself with a low growl at the end of my statement. My arm raises as I walk down the street of my district. I don't care if I look suspicious enough already to other peacekeepers or residents. I just need to keep my own needs afloat.

I look inside the homes of others, looking for a hint, a sign of a family that has kids similar to the family I used to be a part of. Yes, used. I don't belong to that family. Their presence is a disgrace to me, however my last name is a trophy. An award, saying "I am a sibling of Lily Hope." A trophy saying that I am a brother of a warrior, a fighter, someeone who flew much farther than some girl from district two that seemed much more bloodthirsty and dangerous than she was, proving that even the youngest of tributes can strive more than the older experienced ones.

My eyes land on a window that has the face of a child in its window, pressed up to the glass of it and staring at the flame I'm carrying. Her eyes are glowing from looking at the beautiful masterpiece that only took the tilt of a wrist and touch of a flame. I grin. There's two others next to her that seem older. Two brothers, but they're just slightly too young to be reaped. Maybe this'll be a hint to never volunteer for the games. I think to myself, more hope to myself if they even live this battle. My grin turns into a laugh and it sounds meniac that I feel like I am turning into a monster even though I already am one. 

I guess it's just a hatred that burns deeper than torturing the kids of the future.

It's been a while before I've felt pleasure, and this time and moment feels about as pleasurable as getting a massage. It's wonderful. I turn to look at the flame I hold, and it's almost pretty, the colors fighting and dancing over each other to create a yellow, red and orange that makes it seem like all you'll get is warmth. But all you're getting from this flame is the anger of an insaned hope. My laughs grow louder and louder, attracting the attention of anyone that's within range of hearing my insanity. 

My laughs start to slow as I get bored of standing there, and it seems like people are slightly watching me from the inside of their homes, inside of a place that should be considered safe. I let out a laugh at that thought. You're never safe, at least not inside panem. I guess people can say I'm quite similar to my sister. Though they only see that from my actions.

Taking the wooden stick inside of my hand, I throw it as hard as I can inside the upper window of that girls home. There's a loud crash, and then screams. Screaming loud enough that it seems it can break glass. However it won't. I'm led by a man named insanity, and he has gotten his pawn to do his task.

The scream multiplies by two-three-four, as the rest of that family finds the fire building inside of their home. I laugh meniacally, standing in this street without a care. I sit down on the street. I know that the peacekeepers would be here by any minute, and once they reach their destination, the fire will be burning brighter than the one inside of my eyes.

Pyro Hope, I like the sound of that.

---

wc: 2036
other: PRESTON IS GOING TO GET DRAGGED TO THE DC BECAUSE OF THIS. JUST A HEADS UP.
also puppy u wanted a preston oneshot. here u go.
tag: pup

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

Thurstan Rutter

Resting with my feet up on the desk, I’d twiddle the pen in my hand around my fingers; such a slow day today. It seems the citizens of District Eight have actually gained a brain and are going by Panem’s laws, although it is quite unusual for such peace during the games. Recently they’ve just lost their last tribute in the games and nothing as stirred up…yet. It is always the same, when one dies another has to be dragged to the centre or shot on spot. They never really learn, none of them.

Removing my legs from the table, I’d stab the pen into the paper. If I wanted an office job, I would’ve gone for it; I am not made for sitting in doors all day. Printing some words of paper, it would all be a blur to me, all the nonsense I am painting on this form. Some idiot stealing fabrics from the market, why would you bother stealing fabrics in District Eight?

”There is a fire!” Another Peacekeeper bursts into the room, already geared up in the white armour. ”There is a fire in the residential area.” Now here is the action! Pushing from the desk, I’d hurry out of the office, heading to the armoury. Pulling on the white armour, I’d equip my gun before following the rest of the pack outdoors. Hopping onto one of the trucks, we’d make our way to this fire, followed by an entourage of two other vehicles full of white armoured men and women.

Resting my back on the walls of the truck, I’d wonder about this fire. Some idiot set fire to their wool? As we got closer to the residential area, the gusts of smoke hit my lunges, it was strong. Must be more than wool. Slowing to a halt, I’d file out of the truck alongside the other peacekeepers, to be met my wildfire.

Bursting through the windows, the flames had attacked the whole house and were slowly creeping to the one next door. Screaming erupted from inside of the house, a few faint child screams could be heard in the background. It doesn’t seem like an accidental fire. Black smoke rose from the roof of the house, while the amber flames danced around inside. Quickly some screaming stopped; we were too late to save them all.

”It was him! It was him! It was him!” Shouting, a citizen ran up to me, pointing to a boy in the middle of the street. ”He threw a fire into the house, I saw him!” How does one throw fire into a house? Without question, I’d hurry over to the suspect, grabbing them by their arm. Pulling out the metallic handcuffs, I’d secure his hands together quickly without struggle. We had been taught how to do it like that at the academy.

Yanking the handcuffs, so that pain would reside in his wrist, I’d move my mouth to his ear. ”You’re coming with me,you wacko!" Dragging the kid to one of trucks, I’d plan my trip to the detention centre, not bothering to actually question the kid. I am sure other residents would’ve seen him throw this fire into the house, I am sure there is enough proof. Leaving the rest of the keepers to deal with the fire, I’d throw the kid into the truck, locking him in the back; before heading to the driver’s seat. Turning the ignition, I’d accelerate from the scene, preparing myself for this unexpected journey.