{I'll see you again} Elidor One-shot

[Knuckles]

Elidor Rhodes Eighteen | Male | District Eleven

Time hasn’t moved since he was taken away. Since his name slithered past the lips of the escort standing on the stage in the middle of the district square. His name still bounces through my skull echoing across my mind. Three years ago Crusader was taken away. He was a fighter. A strong man. I thought he could’ve won, but in the end he dropped the sword and let her kill him. Patricia, the victor of the sixty-eighth hunger games. I respect her, but forgiveness doesn’t run through my veins - how can I forgive the person who killed him? How can I force myself to smile for the victor? Now Harbinger is gone fighting for his life in the games. The same place where I watched Crusader breathe his last breaths all those days ago. It still seems unreal, yet each time I search for them both, they aren’t here. Crusader is dead, and right now Harbinger has managed to survive. He’s made it through so much turmoil without dying. But how long will it last? How much longer can his fragile mind take it before he turns into the killing machine the Capitol wants? Or would he fight just to return home? To make it back to us? Is it possible to win only thinking of family instead of turning into a bloodthirsty monster? My eyes haven’t left the screen once as I stare into the oblivion of the unknown. Every waking second brings a new matter. Life or death. It’s a fight that he shouldn’t have done. Volunteering for him ran through my mind many times, but in the end fear overtook me. It controlled my body causing me to shake. Causing my entire mind to shut down, and the time was over before I could pluck up the courage to say anything. Yet one question lingers on my mind. How would’ve he reacted if he saw me walking towards the stage to take his place? He probably would’ve hated me for the rest of my short life. But it shouldn’t have been him fighting in that arena; No, it should’ve been me. I’ve cried so many times since he’s left, but right now the hardest was when he turned his own weapon against his ally. Even Crusader didn’t do that. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw his hand strike against her. Both of them matched the attack done to them. Yet somehow, Harbinger won. He killed Chloe. (Why? Why did you do it, Harbinger?) I find myself asking the same questions over and over again, yet no answer bounces to the front of my mind because I have no answer. None at all. I can’t even walk through the house without jumping each time a cannon sound. It’s a sound I won’t ever forget - the image attached to the cannon hasn’t left my mind. Each time I close my eyes, I see Patricia drowning him in that horrible lake in the dark. Crusader never saw the light of day again. My entire body shakes as I stare into the screen of the fight against the career. This girl should’ve killed him, and for the longest time that’s what it felt like. Over and over and over all I can see is the millions of ways his death would’ve played out. I want to look away. Every fiber in my body pleads with me to run away, but my feet are glued to the floor, and I can’t move. I can’t bring myself to speak as I watch Harbinger swing his weapon forward with such a force I’ve never seen from him. Violent, animal like sounds burst through my lips as the blade pierces straight through her eye. BOOM! My chin drops to the floor, and I’m standing here like an idiot. I can’t move. I can’t think, all that I can see is a bloody Harbinger lying on the ground from exhaustion. Blood pools around him, and I know he has to do something before he bleeds out. It hit me like a ton of bricks - His cannon could sound next. Yet even the thought couldn’t bring my mind to a standstill as many thoughts race before me. (What just happened? Harbinger? Why are you killing?) Tap. Tap. Tap. Closing my eyes I try to block out all the sounds; even the sound of someone knocking at the door. I only hope that Tamron answers it because truthfully, I don’t feel like dealing with anyone. Harbinger has killed twice, and seeing this destroys my insides. Tidal waves flood my body. Each breath sends violent chills across my body. Blood rushes to my face, and for a moment I feel like the world is going to end at any possible second. I don’t want him to kill. But I want him to come home. I want to see him again in person. Seeing Crusader resting in the box as we prepared to bury him still haunts me to this day, and I don’t want to see Harbinger like that. I can’t do it. Not again. It seems he has no option but to kill. Tap. Tap. Tap. Maybe if I’m quiet they’ll go away, but the knocking never ends. In fact, it becomes more and more frequent. Sighing loudly, I turn away from the tiny screen in the room and head towards the door. My head drops towards the floor. Dealing with visitors isn’t what I wanted to deal with today. I understand what Ikaia did. He drew me a picture. Something I could hold on for the longest time even after the games ended, but why would he return? Why would he make his way over here just to see me? Tap. Tap. Tap. Anger rushes through me, but it’s quickly put away. Whoever is at the door has to have a purpose to visit. Grumbling, I glide through the house until I’m standing in front of the door. Constant chatter buzzes through my ears, and I know it’s not what I want to deal with. The accents are almost impossible to understand, and I can’t bring myself to look at them. But I reach my hand forward and twist the door open anyway. “Mr. Rhodes?” Turning my head towards the male voice, I nod my head. It’s all I can do right now. “With Harbinger making it this far in the games, we would like to interview you and find out a little more information.” Of course that’s all they want. To break my hollow body into pieces over and over again. To devour what’s left of my soul. To set my heart on fire only to put it out when the games end. (His fate is still unknown.) Yet it doesn’t matter. These Capitol fools don’t care what happens now. All they want is more information. They don’t care that my brother is fighting in the games. They don’t care that he could die at any given second, and at this very moment they are taking me away from the screen. For a moment, my hands ball into fists, and I want to send them on their way because I want nothing to do with them, but I can’t do that. I have to remain calm. For Harbinger’s sake. Sighing, I look around praying that Tamron would come to my rescue because I’ve never been one to talk in front of people. Sadly he’s nowhere to be found. “Let’s begin.” I exhale slowly trying to calm myself down as the camera’s flash in my eyes. White lights and gray spots dance before me, and for a moment I can’t see anything except the silhouettes of those standing around. “What do you think of the arena this year? Isn’t it fantastic?” My head drops towards the ground as tears well up in the corner of my eyes. Bloodshot eyes glare at the ground as I contemplate the best answer. How can I tell them I hate it without it all coming back on me? “It’s definitely interesting. Each game is so much different than the last. It’s terrifying to see the creatures created just for it. It has a calm sense to it, but at the same time it’s horrifically terrifying.” My voice is a whisper in the gust of wind flying through the area. (Nobody cares even if they pretend to.) “Yes! The gamemakers have done fantastic. I’m enjoying this arena very much myself!” At first, I feel like slamming the door shut in his face and just turning away because none of this matters. A cannon blasts through the arena, and I want to run in and check it. I want to see who it is. To find out who died. To make sure that Harbinger is still alive. A sense of urgency creeps through my body, and I can’t move. Frozen in fear, I silently plead with them to continue asking questions. I have to find out who died. Please, let him live. “Okay, next question! How do you feel knowing that Harbinger has made it this far in the games?” The question ricochets through my mind bouncing through my skull before embedding itself in my mind forever. I’m definitely proud of him. I’m pleased that he’s come this far, yet at the same time, I’m absolutely terrified for him. Harbinger is a fighter. He’s proven that. He’s proven his strength. He’s proved that he’s a force to reckon with. “I am definitely proud of him. He’s always been a fighter. He always rises to the challenge. I’m extremely proud to call him my brother.” Confidence replaces the fear as I raise my gaze from the ground. The corners of my lips twist into a genuine smile - it’s the first smile since he was reaped. All I can do is live my life to make him proud to say the same thing in return. Are you proud, Harbinger? Crusader? A sympathetic ‘ahh’ fills the air before the quickly jump to the next question not wasting a second. “Do you think he can win? A lump forms in the back of throat catching every word that tries to form. Of course. I want to say because I fully believe in him. I’ve always believed in him. But hearing that question right now frightens me more than anything in the world - I thought Crusader could win, and that didn’t happen. I think Harbinger can win, and I hope he does. - all the blood rushes from my face. “Yeah. I think he can win. It’s hard to know right now with it being so close to the end. But I really feel he can do it.” I have never spoken any truer words in my entire life. I remember his fear as he said goodbye in the justice building. I remember the pain lingering inside of him. I remember what he said. (“Don’t worry about me. I promise to return home.”) Everyone returns home from the games, but only one is alive. Only one is breathing. And I knew he made a promise he would keep no matter what. “What will you do if he makes it home?” Easy. I think. I know what I want to do. What I plan on doing when I see him face to face again. “I’ll give him a hug - a huge hug - and I’ll never let him go again. I’ll make sure he knows that I’m here for him. No matter what. Through the good, the bad, and the ugly. I won’t let him go through the world alone.” Many possibilities run through my mind, and in the back of the mind I can’t remove the thought of him dying. It’s there fighting against the reality. Right now, the odds aren’t in his favor, but he can do it. I hope. “One last question.” He pauses for only a moment. “If you could say one thing to him right now, what would it be?” Closing my eyes, I think for a moment. Out of everything I want to tell him right now, I don’t know what to say. I have so much to tell him. I want to say, but I don’t because they only asked for one thing. I search through the abyss lingering inside my mind as I force all my thoughts together. Pulling them from a black hole, a large gaping void, one where the horrible thoughts go. One that’s slowly pulling the good away and leaving the bad behind. Once I have it, a large grin creeps across my face once more as I breathe life into the words resting on the tip of my tongue. “I would tell him that I have no words to explain how proud I am of him right now, and I know that Crusader is proud of him for what he’s overcome, and that I am proud to call him my brother.”

OOC notes go here

[googlefont="Chewy:400"]