Into the {r e d flood} [Ems]

[kousei ♚]

NEWT KREARNS

I break into a clearing and sigh in relief, quickly spotting the beach ahead. Gone. No one I know is here to put me down. Freedom is a gift rarely given and I happily grab at it with open arms and relief. Nevah is not here to mock me with her eyes and blackmailing words. Father is not here to taunt me and stomp me into the ground with his words, leaving the deep imprint on me flesh, Mother is not here to try (and fail) to defend me, Ivy is not here to silently judge me for what I'm about to do.

In all honesty, I can really do what I want.

My vision darts to either side, checking and double checking that I'm not making a mistake and the shadow of those I know are not hanging over me. I smile with relief, quickly realising that I am actually alone. I don't care much for the people who populate this side walk, or for this 'sun' that's supposed to be 'warming up' the frigid winter that's kept me locked in the prison known as home. Trapped between luxuries and my family I've been forced to roam the house in hope of something. Even though I don't know it yet.

I'm constantly in search of one thing or another; a break will never come. My hand finds its way into my pocket and rustles around through the jumble of items and useless junk.

Bingo!

I smile, my hand clasps around the cardboard box that's smaller than my hand and I pull it out. My eyes light up; rapture and death sit in the palm of my hand. With this in my hand I'm the king of the world. There's no Nevah, no father or Ivy - everything just stops and becomes weightless. I'm smiling as I flick open the top and the site of death sticks meets me. Four, I have four left. That's good, that'll last me until the end of the month. I take one last glance, confirming that no one I know is watching me before pulling one out and tucking the box in my pocket.

I tuck my free hand in my other pocket but this time there's no rummaging, I instantly feel the object and pull it out. Fire trapped in plastic rests in the palm of my hand and I can't help but give a sigh of relief. I'm going to send myself to an early grave at this rate with my tools. That's what they are in the end, tools that'll give me respite in the short term but tear me apart cell by cell in the long term. Too many times the warning words of a training instructor has bound against my skull but my skull must be pretty damn thick because here I am.

I take the cigarette in my mouth and flick the light on, lighting up the death stick and I inhale as deep as I can, letting the ashes run down my system.

I'm killing myself. I don't care.

Dad would murder you if he saw you. He won't see me, he can't see me.

I'm kill-

I stop and breathe out, before I can even look up, panic rings in my ears. "RUN!" I hear a stranger scream in the distance. I jump and quickly look up.

Death stares back at me.

Last time I checked the sea did not move with such a vigour that it towered over even the largest skyscraper. It curls in itself, shimmering and dancing like flame in oxygen. I must be meters away from the thing but the smell of sea salt rises with the wave, I instinctively recoil. The blue tendrils of the wave reaches out and I swear it's reaching out for me. It roars and howls like a bear being poked and prodded with a stick.

I drop my cigarette.

I turn and sprint with the people. A ton of bodies are desperate to escape the call of the sea. My heat's going one to a million, hammering against my ribcage I swear it's going to snap. "Move! Move!" I call out, doing my best to push past the mass of panicked bodies. I don't look back, the tendrils will catch me if I look back.

Movement automatic I turn a corner, breaking away from the mass. What am I doing?! Shelter, I'm looking for shelter. Houses and stores hang around me but I know they're nothing compared to the salty beast that threatens to swallow me whole. I find the closest building and without thinking I grab the window ledge and begin pulling myself up. My body's a machine and within seconds I'm on top. Not very-

No time to think, the wave is already crashing by death brushes my shoulder.

Time is a snail, creeping past as death lingers past me and my stronghold. For a second I heard screams and they were suddenly silenced. Death completes it's lap and I sigh, I'm safe even though they're not. Perhaps I'm selfish after all. I don't feel safe, not completely. I know it without even looking that something's coming. Each passing beat is an age thrown into the rushing flood and my stronghold lurches slightly.

It'll hold; at least that's what I tell myself.

I'm killing myself but not faster than they-

The wooden buildings creaks and I gasp. I see the wave begin to fork it's way back and even more water joins it.

It's not done yet.

"Oh, fuck me!" I exclaim as I feel my body lurch in the rhythm of the creaking wood beneath my feet. Crack! The holes in my stronghold begin to show.

I'm as weightless as air when I begin to see the roof split. Death forms in the cracks beneath my stronghold.

A terrified scream and a crumbling stronghold. Everything's an agonising blur.

[Knuckles]

[googlefont="Marck Script:400"]

Evander Birch

I open my eyes I try to see but I'm blinded by the white light

From the moment the train pulled into the station at district four, Evander realized how much help the district truly needed, but even that couldn't prepare him for the view. He considered himself lucky knowing he was away from the ocean and nothing like this could ever happen to him, yet the fear lingered inside. One step after another he ventured through the tents signing paper after paper wondering how many people were missing, and how many had been accounted for, yet the staggering numbers always changed. Every second another strand of numbers was tossed at him as he grabbed a bottle of water preparing to journey into the midst of death and destruction. Leaving Lexi in district two with his brother Apollo watching over her wasn't an easy decision, but it had to be done. He wanted to bring her with him, but the one year old didn't need to see the ruins nature brought upon this district, and Evander wanted a break, yet most importantly he wanted a chance to help.

Yet looking ahead staring at the ruined district, Evander felt himself begin to fold. His heart hammered inside his chest pouring against his spine as the world slowly caved around him. Words echoed through his mind while his eyes focused on the rescuers retrieving broken bodies. And it all felt so real. His eyes darted from person to person, and the world was alive buzzing with life while district four stood ruined. Most people were working together charging out in pairs or more, but Evander wanted to go alone for a chance to find freedom lingering somewhere inside the salty water spread throughout the destruction of a once beautiful district. With closed eyes he could see the tallest of buildings rising high into the sky matching several buildings back home, but what he couldn't imagine was the sea attacking those who loved it best.

Stone slabs covered the ground, and with careful steps he moved forward trying to keep his balance while leaping across shattered glass praying his feet landed beneath him. And his eyes found the buildings closest to the shoreline. His heart plummeted quickly into the pits of his stomach. Evander didn't know much about a tsunami, yet he could guess those closest to the sea didn't stand a chance. But he held onto hope as he casually marched forward wondering how anyone could've possibly survived.

Stone quickly turned into slabs of wood. Deep inside he knew nobody would stand a chance hiding in one of these. Wooden pieces scattered across the sandy shores spreading as far as his eyes could see, and the smell of saltwater slowly ate away at his insides leaving him wondering how anyone could live in such a cruel yet fascinating environment. And he stopped for a moment eyeing the people around watching them pick up piece after piece of rubble and trash before tossing it to the side. Every now and then the occasional scream burst through his ears allowing him to hold onto a piece of hope that people did in fact survive. But it wasn't until he reached an untouched building that he realized there's a chance someone could be inside. He wasn't sure where he was or what he was doing, yet he kept moving hoping to save someone. Hoping to find someone. Yet his mind was frozen trapped on the idea that nobody stood a chance.

Oh please don't let me find a dead body. He prayed silently to anyone willing to listen as he folded against the ground slowly moving piece after piece of wood. Splinters dove through his fingers piercing his delicate skin and drops of blood trickled down his arm dripping silently on the boards in front of him. Evander must've been several yards from the ocean itself, but even the buildings several miles away took the brute force. And he felt his heart sink deeper inside his stomach the moment his dark eyes locked on something beneath the weight of the world. Many thoughts darted through his mind spiraling out of control as his eyes closed. A drummer pounded rapidly against the ticking drum inside his chest. Beads of sweat formed on his brow silently dripping down the side of his face. But his eyes failed him because nothing was underneath where he was searching.

Yet when he stood up to walk away and call it a day, Evander found a teenaged boy lying on the ground.

He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, and he stopped just inches away from the kid lying in front of him before kneeling at his side. With a shaky breath, he placed a hand on his shoulder hoping the kid was breathing, and that he was alive. But his mind wasn't sure, and his thoughts were blank as a simple question fell silently from his lips. "Hey, can you hear me? Are you okay?" And he prayed another prayer because the last thing Evander wanted was to stare into the eyes of a dead body knowing he had no chance in the world of saving them.

table by Anzie <333

[kousei ♚]

NEWT KREARNS

Here lies Newt Krearns, trapped in limbo.

Where am I?

Am I dead dying?

Limbo feels really wet and warm, it's as if salt water has flooded my mouth and left it a parched desert.

I can't see, I can't even breathe.

Consciousness is a fleeting feather in the breeze. One minute it's dark, one minute it's blurry. Limbo can't see to make up it's damn mind. I think I feel my jaw open but nothing comes out, not even salt water. Finally a gush of air dares finds its way into my lungs. Big mistake. Crimson floods the world followed by black and the cold touch of seawater against my soaked clothes.

"Fucking hell, that's what a true Krearns acts like, too bad he isn't my son." Dad's voice snaps me back into reality and out of the realm of black. Colours exist again, at least partly. Blue, crimson and black are the main ones. I cough and sputter, a quick burst of water dribbles down what feels like my chin and onto whatever surface I'm on.

Move.

I only manage a groan and a twitch.

Limbo calls my name, every wave drawing a twitch and groan from me (is it even me?) but I'm not even half convinced that it's a twitch.

It sounds more like a sob, that's not good.

"Careers don't cry." He scolds me for crying.

Warm runs down my cheek from my eye. Tears. No, it's only from one eyes and tears don't feel this thick. Tears don't hurt this much. I can't see, there's no mirror and I'm completely and totally submerged into the darkness. I wince, the liquid running down my eye feels heavier and it really hurts. Agony radiates from my right eye down to my cheek and from my cheek it shoots down to my abdomen.

I open my mouth to cough but nothing comes out.

Head face down and heart on my sleeve I sit on the doorstep of limbo, waiting to teeter on one side or the other. I don't care any more, just let me be free. I'm not just talking about the pain this time. I blink my eye (left or right, who even knows at this point?) and open my mouth to see if I can cough, groan, do anything. I can't call out for help as if it would come at all.

I still hear the silenced screams. I suppose I'm special in that way, death came and had i's tendrils around my neck but it didn't tear my throat clean out. It formed in the cracks of my 'stronghold', it formed as a gigantic wave looming over me, it viciously slashed past me, sweeping and destroying all in its path. Merciless, it wrapped its hands around me and squeezed, the sadistic prick that it is, it didn't show any mercy.

"Less hands but twice as skill as you'll ever have." Less mercy than even him.

What does he do? Leave me stranded here in limbo, the suspense endless as I teeter on one side or the other. I suppose this is the definition of on the fence.

A concoction of seawater and tears fill my nostrils along with the silenced cries playing in my ears. A symphony of death, limbo taunts me with it because I'm stuck here. I open my mouth to cry out but there's nothing, not even a wheeze at this point. Good, maybe this is a sign. can feel myself tilt and it hurts; but it won't hurt for much longer.

I brace myself to join the army of the silenced screams and shattered lives. Anything to break away from the chains of limbo that rattle with every breath, every twitch. Maybe I'll just...

"Hey, can you hear me? Are you okay?" A voice calls to me, and it's not father's. He's real.

I feel him turn me over (oh so I was face down) and the dim sunlight hits me square on.It doesn't look the same.I finally cough and sputter and in the corner of my eye I see what was running down my face.

Tears are not red.

The light's dim and blurry, I can't tell if the person that came free me is real or an illusion, if it's a man or woman. None of it matters. Shock and awe, my hand moves up to shakily touch it and from my cheek, a dull pain cuts up and radiates throughout my 'eye.'

There's something sharp and painful in it.

The man remains a blur, the light remains forever dull. The chains of limbo shatter as I let out a horrified scream.

[Knuckles]

[googlefont="Marck Script:400"]

Evander Birch

I open my eyes I try to see but I'm blinded by the white light

Time stood still, and for a moment Evander thought the boy was dead. Nothing was moving. Nothing made a difference. Seconds became minutes, and it felt like an eternity had gone by before anything happened, yet nothing happened. No sounds. No movement. Nothing except the whisper of the wind from the sky. Maybe he couldn't hear me. His heart sank deep into his stomach, and he wanted to speak louder to bring new life into the world surrounding him, yet he couldn't think of anything to do other than look around at those participating in search and rescue wondering if they've found anyone alive. Hushed whispers buzz through his ears drawing him back to the reality in front of him.

Evander pulled on his shoulder turning the boy around, but it wasn't an easy task as the kid felt like dead weight with nothing to help him. Nothing to hold onto -

"Oh my god." He stated much louder than he meant to before lifting his hand to cover his mouth. His stomach churned at the sight, but he knew it wasn't the worst thing in the world right now. A huge shard of glass pierced the boy's eye, and a violent scream flew from his lips filling the air - every hair stood on end, and Evander backed away for a moment completely unsure of what to do, but he knew this kid needed help, and he knew he had to get him back to the medical tent so the doctors and nurses could remove the object impaled in his eye.

For a second every ounce of medical knowledge left his mind leaving him frozen in place wondering what he was supposed to do. Don't remove the impaled item. He thought to himself over and over as he looked around hoping someone would find him. That someone would run over towards the two of them after hearing a scream for help. Yet his eyes fixed on the glass, and he watched blood trickle down the side of the boy's face wondering what he could possibly do.

Find help. Find help.

Many red flags darted through his mind. Warning after warning, yet Evander was completely lost on what to do until an invisible butterfly landed on his shoulder whispering through the cries of the broken.

Stabilize it.

"Gonna have to use some gauze to stabilize it until the doctors at the medical tent can get it out." Evander stated trying to keep his voice calm as he dug through his bag hoping something was inside of it. Yet he couldn't find a cup or anything to place over the eye when he remembered the water bottles resting near the bottom.

His hands shook rapidly as panic slowly began setting in, and he lifted a full bottle from his bag, and dumped the contents on the ground. And he went to work using a pair of scissors to cut the plastic bottle to the size of a tiny cup large enough to fit over the eye, and he laced the jagged edges with foam pads so they wouldn't cut into his skin irritating his eye worse. "I have to cover your other eye too because when one eye moves, the other eye moves too, even if I have it to where you can't see. So for a moment you'll be blind, but you have to trust me. It's for your safety."

And he found another foam pad inside his bag, and he knew what he had to do, and he hoped this kid wouldn't fight him because Evander didn't want to fight. All he wanted to do was to help this person. To make sure nothing bad happened to him, yet he understood it was hard because this kid had no idea who Evander was, and for all he knew he could be the enemy. But he did the only thing he could do to attempt to calm any nerves the boy may have. "My name's Evander, and I'm from district two, and I'm here to help."

table by Anzie <333[/quote]

[kousei ♚]

NEWT KREARNS

My voice cracks and I'm silenced. Cracks of sunlight weep from the sky, gently tapping my face and I feel waves of irritation mixed with agony. A stifled groan is all I can do to vent my pain. My neck writhes and muscles clench. Limbo. A word so painless rips so much agony through my head. I let my head roll to the side. In my good eye, vision focuses, revealing him that this person is a man. I see him recoil, slapping his hand to his mouth at the very sight of me. I never was the impressive one, I guess.

Heart crashing through my ribcage, I feel time stop. He looks so panicked, his vision darting in every direction possible, so distressed but so weightless. Untouched by the heavy ocean, an angel in disguise. Quite a panicked angel at that, he looks as if he's seen the walking dead; but I'm just a boy. Defiled, injured and agony-stricken but I'm still just a boy.

My arm twitches, flinching in the water and I swear I hear death in the splashes. Limbo has lingered for too long, never the decisive one, I've been teetering on the edge for too long. Blood trickling down my cheek, I shiver in the cold. Dead men don't feel the cold. I open my mouth to say something (kill me), anything (it hurts) but I feel choked right down to my torso. My back arches and I wince, something isn't right.

(When was anything right?)

His voice cuts through limbo. "Gonna have to use some gauze to stabilize it until the doctors at the medical tent can get it out." He tells me, half of what he says passing right over my head. Sent to the training centre at six years old, half of what was said is lost now. Everything shattered in shards, each memory undistinguishable in the passing breeze despite being revealed by the weeping light. An instructor's words have never felt more redundant.

(Sometimes you might need to heal your ally, if it's earlier in the games.)

(First you-)

(If it's late in the games, sometimes it's best to leave them to die.)

This isn't a game.

If the careers from the training centre could see me now. Laughter, simple as that.

I groan, a silent call out to this angel of mercy. I'm begging him. It hurts. Speaking is a distant memory. I twist my neck, staring into the sky and the weeping light. It weeps for you. Hah, as if anything would weep for me, consoling myself in my last moments. I groan one more time, my mid-section screaming out for respite. Looking at the sky would be better than looking at the bodies, less blood. I don't want my last sight to a snapshot of the future - corpses.

I cough with the force of all my pain; and I'm not talking about the glass. My back arches and I sputter in pain, the sudden sharp jolt combined with the pain sending a shiver down my spine. It's the cold. My lips part to speak but they only manage nothing. Every cloud staring down on my in mockery, I feel myself writhe once again.

Suddenly, the angel of mercy returns back into my field of vision, blocking out the sky and their death diluted clouds. "I have to cover your other eye too because when one eye moves, the other eye moves too, even if I have it to where you can't see. So for a moment you'll be blind, but you have to trust me. It's for your safety." I hear him say, lifting an object over my eye.

No! No!

I try to shake my head but I'm too weak, can't fight it. For once, the dark scares me; I'll be blind for a moment. But what if a moment turns into an eternity. I can't protest, don't have the strength. I have to trust the angel, I have to trust the stranger. Please, don't make me blind. I'd be useless. The sight of that rd bullseye would become forever stripped from my fingers.

I cringe, the thump playing in my ears as the knife's point hitting the bullseye.

A distant memory, unlikely to be relived at this rate.

"My name's Evander, and I'm from district two, and I'm here to help." He tells me. Evander. The angel of mercy has a name. Somehow, through the all the pain I pin the name above his head. If only Evander knew, I was beyond saving the day I was named Krearns. I want to tell him just do it I want him to do something, anything. One side or the other, I will be dragged away from limbo sooner or later. When my mouth opens I want to cry, beg him for help, beg him to end this all. Limbo can't keep me here forever.

"Evander," I allow my words to flow, carried towards him in the cloud of my agony, "Evander... my ribs." Nothing can seem to go right in limbo.

[Knuckles]

[googlefont="Marck Script:400"]

Evander Birch

I open my eyes I try to see but I'm blinded by the white light

Tiny pieces of gauze scurried across the ground with each gust of wind as Evander worked relentlessly with intentions of making sure no further damage was done to the eye. Yet his mind was frozen fixated on the idea that this kid would probably never use that eye again. But not once did he say anything. His hands were gentle cutting piece after piece of gauze before wrapping it around the kid's head. Pain lingered inside threatening to burst through his chest wall at any given second, however, his calm demeanor came with practice and many years of training. And his mind raced trying to remember the instructions the trainer gave him explaining how to care for eye injuries, but in all his life most were deadly. Evander remembered watching knifes pierce the eye of unexpected tributes. He remembered how quickly they fell over dead, yet he also remembered how some were lucky enough to survive. Right now this kid wasn't at risk of dying from the eye injury; he was at risk of dying from infection and blood loss.

Fear echoed through his mind as he fought with the gauze trying to make it cover his eye hoping the kid wouldn't fight because Evander had no intentions of dealing with a combative person, yet he understood. The fear of the unknown was a horrible feeling many people felt throughout their lives, and surely this young man lying on the ground was experiencing the horrendous feeling. But Evander didn't stop working. His mind was focused on saving the guy making sure he didn't have to tell the family that he didn't have to tell them horrible news. The numbers were staggering, and all Evander wanted was to keep the numbers down. He yearned to save as many people as possible. But once their number was called, and the grim reaper made an appearance beside them, nothing would save them. All the CPR in the world wouldn't be enough to restart the heart. It was a terrible feeling Evander had only felt once in his entire life, and he prayed he never felt it again. But he knew time was limited, and this kid needed to go to the medical tent before it was too late.

"Okay, I'm going to cover the other eye." He mumbled quietly before placing the piece of gauze and eye shield over top of it. But once that was done a sense of panic crept through him as the kid's voice filled the air. "Evander...my ribs."

Broken ribs was probably one of the most painful breaks anyone could ever experience, and Evander was useless at helping anyone with those because the supplies needed rested inside the medical tent. But he looked. "What's your name?" He asked hoping the male was capable of answering because Evander wanted to know his name. He wanted to address him as a human instead of some foolish word lingering in the back of his mind, and knowing his name would help bring a sense of meaning and an urgency to help. Not that this situation wasn't urgent, but knowing a name, putting a name to a broken kid's face was what he needed in order to feel more sincere. Broken ribs can cause many problems. Punctured lungs. Collapsed lungs if their not taken care of quickly and properly.

His eyes darted across the land hoping someone else was coming while he tried remembering what he learned in the training center about dealing with broken ribs, but nothing was coming to his mind, and Evander was afraid the panic was starting to show, yet he tried with all his might to keep a straight face as he grabbed more gauze wrap from his bag. "Try to relax. I know it's a lot easier said than done. I'm going to have to bind the ribs. And by that I mean wrap gauze around them to prevent a lung from collapsing. I've got more people on the way to help. That way we can get you to the medical tent and they can give you something for pain."

Lifting his sheets he cut the wrapper off the roll of gauze before turning his gaze away praying someone would show because the last thing he needed was for this male to feel as hopeless as Evander was feeling right now.

table by Anzie <333

[kousei ♚]

NEWT KREARNS

"Okay, I'm going to cover the other eye." Speak your procedures, make me comfortable, but Evander, you speak like I can be mended. I lost the right to be fixed for seventeen years ago.

He's going to make me blind to the world; die blind, what a way to go. What if I die? Silent question that I can't let dance off my tongue because once it goes out into the air it's a reality, an impending doom. The good 'if I can't see them, they can't see me' logic, carrying me through seventeen years and shot down by a wave. I should've known it was a weak logic if a mass of water could shatter it so easily. What am I even saying? Makes no sense, fading. Losing. Dying. I stop and breathe deeply. Fading.

Restarting, I can feel him covering my other eye with his tools.

Submerged.

The touch of darkness sends a chill down my spine. Seventeen years old and I thought I was so big, now I can't even stand the dark. Teeth chatter, I feel like my jaw's moving on it's own. Stutter, that's another chatter, it doesn't feel so warm any more. My mouth opens but nothing comes out, I think I've lost the energy to groan. Darkness saps the life and soul out of me, a side of energy to. I don't think I can even beg for limbo to end at this point.

Perhaps this is the end, just dark.

I can still feel my own blood soaking into whatever he put over my bad eye. Red hot agony seeps into my brain and my chattering stops, the despair restarts. Silence, it seems Evander doesn't have any words for my burning ribs. Some things you can't fix. Bullet holes. Broken bones. Glass in your eye. The names Krearns. Newt Krearns.

Can't be mended, just poked and prodded. Fixing is a distant epitaph.

Nothing can fix me, limbo and darkness is beyond saving.

Another explosion rocks my eye and batters my brain, and I yell out for a second. Can't be fixed, just poked and prodded. Don't know why he's even trying, Nevah and Dad told me I would never get better. Leave me to rot in limbo, I'll teeter over the edge some day. Then it'll all just stop, so I like to think. Closest thing to salvation. Even mercy incarnate cannot mend me now, if it even ever could.

Fragile silence, so easily shattered by a caring question. "What's your name?"

No name.

Dead man.

Drowned man.

Seventeen years drowning and it took shards limbo digging into my skin followed by the kiss of darkness to open me up to the truth. My name...

Fuck, I know it starts with N. "It starts with N and ends with T." The grown man's amused words rewind. As it it was so simple, "and ends with T. Just like that, as if I could be summarised in two letters. N and T. He'd laugh bitterly, clutching at straws I'd wrack my brain, agonising for ages like I am now. 'It starts with N and ends with T. Nothing but a heap of mess; two letters to summarise my independence and it has to be N and T.

"Four letters, that's all it is." All it is, four letters and that's me summarised. "That's all it is." Four letters, starts with N and ends with T. Wrack my brain, wrack it real hard and real deep until the answer shoes up before my eyes (eye) and then that's four letters to summarise who I am. Who I was. I never would have thought it would be four letters.

Useless.

Drowned.

N and T.

"N...T...N...T...N...T" Blurred reality and running past, I never could tell the difference between running colours on a white canvas, even when it was my own blood etched in its history. My history. Blurred lines, scattered paint.

"Come on son, it's just four letters, it starts with N and T." Cold words of encouragement, I could only ever wrack my brain and draw blanks.

Tick-tock, seconds pass like a snail in limbo.

"Four damn letters, we've been through this." Frustration, a poorly masked growl and I recoil.

I think thinking hurts, another small groan escapes my lips in the form of a broken wheeze. I feel my leg involuntarily shudder and kick out.

Explode. "For fucks sake! It's N-E-W-T!" Bang. It can't be mended.

"Newt." I answer, coughing and wheezing into the darkness as if it'll call back, letting the blind sink in and the despair build. Building blocks to teetering on one edge or the other would include at least knowing my own damn name. Four letters to summarise who I am, the name Krearns was pushed forwards much later to add to the broken sentence. Shoved into the back of my head now, Evander doesn't need to know. At this rate he'll never know. When I topple over the edge, limbo can't take that. I shudder and I cough and wheeze. Something doesn't feel right (when has anything felt right?) Evander's been awfully quiet to my useful senses and non-existent to me useless one. He's rummaging, checking something; he might not know what to do.

Newt, he can't be mended. Only poked and prodded. "Try to relax. I know it's a lot easier said than done. I'm going to have to bind the ribs. And by that I mean wrap gauze around them to prevent a lung from-" I never could tell the colours apart when blurred on a blank canvas. Scattered, smeared in crimson in all directions. Broken syllables. The shards of shattered laughs spin webs of agony through my body, cut me and bind me. Relax, the very thought of it is a joke. If you relax, Dad will... Evander's right, it is easier said that done. Drowned in the dark, I don't know why he even tries. Limbo can't allow salvation.

"It hurts too much," I say, stating the obvious through broken wheezes and cracked breaths, "I-I- I'm- I'm d-d-dead aren't I?" A question that doesn't even need answering at this point. Bitter reality, dead in the dark. He speaks as if I can be mended. Bullet holes. Broken bones. Glass in your eye. Some things just can't be mended, the list is extensive but constant.

"N-E-W-T!" Four letters that make another gurgled grown escape from my throat. I'm dead aren't I?

Forever constant, never mended.

[Knuckles]

[googlefont="Marck Script:400"]

Evander Birch

I open my eyes I try to see but I'm blinded by the white light

"Newt."

A single word filled the air, and Evander felt more at ease knowing this person lying on the ground in front of him had a name. Personally, he never wanted to know the name of the victim because it made it that much harder when they died. Putting a name to a face was hard. Instead of being able to look at the person as just another person knowing the name takes it to a personal level. Something different. Something changed. Normally Evander never cared about knowing the name of those he tried to save, but this time he had to. He wanted to work harder as he didn’t come to district four to fail. Not everyone survived, and when it was their time to die nobody could save them.

For all he knew the grim reaper was standing beside Newt calling him home. The feeling was terrible. It felt like someone had punched him straight in the chest knocking the wind out of him, yet he put on a brave face because this kid, Newt, needed help, and Evander wouldn’t allow the reaper to take him.

Nothing ever went right. Not when Cassius was reaped for the games. Not when Beatrice was reaped for the games. Not when Ares volunteered for the games. Evander’s life was full of mistakes and failures. Apollo told him everyday he was a mistake, and that it should be him dead in the hunger games, not Ares. If only Apollo understood the pain lingering inside him, maybe he would treat him better. Yet it was much more than that. Evander gave up. He walked away from what he loved the most because he knew training didn’t matter anymore. Evander failed those he loved and cared for. He was nothing more than a mistake, and even to this day he wished he was dead and Ares was alive because Apollo would be happy, and nothing in the world would matter. Everyone would have the happiness they deserved, and Evander would be nothing more than a forgotten face in the sky. But Ares wasn’t alive. He was dead while Evander was alive, and he couldn’t allow his past to hold him back anymore. He couldn’t fail this young man lying on the ground in front of him.

"I-I- I'm- I'm d-d-dead aren't I?"

The question quickly caught him off guard as he wiped a tear away. No. You’re alive. He wanted to say, but he couldn’t find the strength to speak. All his words were gone, and his eyes fixated on the ground in front of him as he carefully unwrapped another roll of gauze to wrap around Newt’s chest to keep the broken rib in place.

But the world was quiet. Not even a gust of wind filled the air.

I’m dead aren’t I? The question rang through his mind over and over as the fought with himself knowing the grim reaper was trying to steal the life away. I can’t fail. Evander whispered to himself keeping his mind focused. He failed too many times in his life, and this was one chance he had to make up for them all. To show the world that he wasn’t a mistake. That he indeed had a purpose in life. Perhaps this was the chance to show Apollo that he had made a name for himself, and that he didn’t need his brother anymore. But I keep failing. I failed him, and now look what happened.

Evander shook his head violently trying to block out all the pain flowing through.

I didn’t come to fail. I will not fail.

He paused for only a second.

"No, Newt, you aren't dead. You're alive, and I'm going to keep you that way." He stated calmly before wrapping more gauze around his chest. "Just take some nice, deep breaths for me." But before he wrapped more gauze an interesting idea cross his mind. Sometimes it was best to distract the victim. To allow their mind to go someplace else to block out the pain. To keep them from fearing the unknown, and Evander felt a small smile twist across his face as he tapped down the last piece of gauze.

"What’s your favorite color?" He asked quietly hoping it was enough to distract him. Something to temporarily remove him from the current situation. "What do you like to do for fun?"

table by Anzie <333[/quote]

[kousei ♚]

NEWT KREARNS

Hope's fleeting in the silent atmosphere. No motion but it manages to dance and skitter before my eyes in mockery; it won't keep still. One moment it's there, the next moment it's gone in a flash. One moment it's solid, the next moment it blurs before my eyes. One moment I can taste it, the next moment the reaper's scythe slices it in half. Spoiled, I wonder if I even had hope in the first place before limbo. I'll never know, everything's a smear across the blank canvas of targets, blades and the sea.

('He's really doing something for the name Krearns.')

No, father wouldn't say that to me; he never compliments me.

N-E-W-T. Four letters that are smeared across my face, don't even get my started on the name Krearns. Broken letters tumbling from my lips, somehow Evander caught the letters that form a shattered syllable and a useless name. I'm dead aren't I? No one wants to ask it, no one wants to know but I do. The reaper's steel scythe hangs above all our necks, I want to know if it will fall today. Seventeen years I've felt the steel hover above my throat, a cold command standing between me and it's blade for seventeen years.

Was this wave the cold command?

I want to know, I'm to know before I tumble over the edge of limbo. Two polar opposites separated by the same fence. I'm begging to know. I'm fucking dead. I'm fucking dead. I'm fucking dead. The living can't endure this over stayed agony, not in this world; not even in limbo. Red running down my cheek, seeping into my hair and pain lancing through my eye and through my brain. I can't possibly endure this.

Red blurred across the blank canvas along with those four useless letters. Even Evander must see it because he's suspiciously quiet. Shelter me from the truth, I see the crimson blurred across the canvas over those four useless letters and worthless syllable. Clue: it starts with N and ends with T. I feel him lift my top half up and I involuntarily cry out in pain. I swear I feel a slight crack and my ribs creak underneath my flesh.

('It's ideal to never find yourself in this situation.')

Here I am. Here I am. I am here. I-

('In the event of a break-')

I'm beyond mending, dead. Let it end, I'll gladly topple over the edge.

('Class, I must stress, never let a bone break in the-')

This isn't a game, this is me waiting to fall.

A wave of that cold command, the reaper's scythe feels all the more closer. Decapitate my hope, cut through my neck. What's the difference?

Difference: I'm still breathing (I'm still breathing weakly) and I can still feel the pain lancing through my mid section as Evander begins wrapping something around my ribs. I groan and sputter, the sudden pressure's blinding. Dull pain piercing my tattered composure, I feel myself involuntarily shudder when he stops for a moment. Both of us weightless, I begin seeing smears across the page. There's no way the living can endure this, I'm dead aren't I?

"No, Newt, you aren't dead. You're alive, and I'm going to keep you that way." He forces comfort into my veins before adding more to the pressure with whatever he's wrapping. He sounds too confident. Everyone's a confident one here. Someith Krearns. So sure of himself, so sure he would bring havoc into that arena and climb the skulls of the dead tributes. Even won Dad to his side. Where is he? Where is the insane, confident man? Banished to the grave by the swing of a boy from some back alley district.

Too sure of himself, as if trying to bandage up my eye to the truth. Why does he care so much? Nevah would have walked away long ago ('you're just a fucking mess, Newt'), Father would have scoffed at me and shaken his head ('I thought I raised you better than this'), Enzo would have sneered or laughed ('you idiot') but this stranger's just said he'll keep me alive. Drag me out of limbo to, I want to hear the promise. Wipe away the red from the white page, I don't want to drown in the smears any more.

I'm tired of seeing those four useless letters covered in red. N-E-W-T.

"Just take some nice, deep breaths for me." A command, a real one this time. How do I even breathe? I let my jaw go slack and I inhale, deeply like he said.

Mistake.

Pain shoots through my flesh and I involuntarily cough and sputter, agony wrecking my composure.

Just take some nice deep breaths.

Repeat, more agony attacks my bones and I groan loudly.

Smear. Red. Blank-

"What’s your favorite color?" Evander's voice cuts into the smear like it's nothing but butter. What? A random question and it throws me off guard so suddenly. I feel shocked. He's asking me a personal question?

I don't even think about it, my response automatic. "It's, erm, white," no lies spun, a quick answer, "cos it's simple, I like the simple things." Justification for who I am. Seventeen years I spent justifying myself to everyone who had ever strung those four letters together to make the useless syllable. I was ruined for seventeen years.

"What do you like to do for fun?" Another question fired.

Another answer automatic, I swear the corner of my lip tugs upwards; the ghost of a smile. "Play card games." I manage to say, it sounds like a strained wheeze. Card games, a nice word for gambling, I could never tell someone that directly. They might tell Dad. That would be the end of Newt. Would it be like this?

I can't end with red smears across a blank canvas.

"Most people," I feel my sentence get forcefully cut off, stopped between misshaped ribs and agony pouring down from the eye; I still continue through it. "Most people would say training," I ignore the rust coating my voice, "but training ain't fun." I finish. Despite the agony lancing through my brain and pounding in my ribs, a phantom smile plays across my face; through the wheezes, I swear the shadow of the reaper's scythe begins to fade.

[Knuckles]

[googlefont="Marck Script:400"]

Evander Birch

I open my eyes I try to see but I'm blinded by the white light

"I wish you were dead!"

No matter how hard he tried, Evander wasn’t able to escape the harsh realities tearing through his mind. His life had no purpose. No meaning. Nothing. It was all taken away the moment Ares Pine volunteered for the games. Apollo changed. His entire world turned into a terrible scene of hell, and the only person standing in his way was none other than Evander. Brothers by birth, yet enemies by common beliefs. The harsh words of his brother echoed endlessly through his mind bouncing from one side of his skull to the other. As soon as he thought one was out of the way, another crashed through. "You are nothing more than a mistake!"

A mistake. A stupid mistake.

Focusing on the task at hand became harder and harder, and Evander knew this man needed help. He knew his life was hanging by a thread, but for whatever reason all his mistakes crashed into his mind. The time he failed to save someone. The time he watched someone die in front of him. It all crashed down around him as the world moved on. This moment was a chance to prove he wasn’t a mistake. That he had a purpose in life. Maybe this was the opportunity needed to change Apollo’s opinions of him, but as far as Evander knew his brother wasn’t in district four. He left Lexi under his care, and it was hurtful knowing the torture he could put her through while Evander was gone, but his purpose right now was helping Newt. He had to help him - most importantly Evander had to help himself. "You’re a horrible parent, Evander, even I can be a better father than you!"

Tears formed in the corner of his eyes threatening to fall down his face at any given second. Why are you doing this? Focus! Bigger things lied before him. Evander knew living in the past would only come to hurt him one day, and this was the moment he was talking about because he had something to do. This kid needed a miracle, but Evander wasn’t a god. He didn’t have the power to save everyone, yet he was going to try. "It’s, erm, white cos it's simple, I like the simple things." A small smile spread across his face, but nothing was simple in this world especially for Evander, yet white was simple. Nothing vibrant or dull. Nothing too catchy. Nothing too depressing.

And for a moment the question lingered through the air. It was another personal question. One just needed for a distraction while Evander finished binding the ribs. "Play card games." Evander wasn’t one for playing cards, yet he could see that it was something different. Something that set Newt apart from every other person he’d come across in district four. Careers lingered around. Careers were ruined. Career training centers smashed against the ground under the weight of the heavy wave as it ruined the district. Careers never stand a chance. Evander knew how deadly careers were. He watched his own family train, and he watched his own family fall. Training wasn’t always enough to save someone. "Most people would say training, but training ain’t fun."

At first, Evander was caught off guard because those very words fell from his lips so long ago. Evander wasn’t a career. He didn’t want to train because it was pointless, and it wasn’t fun, yet his entire life depended upon training. Every person Evander met wanted him to become a hardcore career capable of killing innocent teenagers like it was nothing. It wasn’t his cup of tea, yet he tried to train. He forced himself because he thought Apollo would respect him more, yet that never happened. "You call that a swing? You shouldn’t even try, Evander. You’re a terrible career. I wish Ares was alive, and you were dead in his place. At least he knows how to fight! A twelve year old could rip you apart!"

"White is a good color." Evander stated quietly while cutting a piece of tape to place against the gauze. "And I agree with ya. Training isn’t fun. I hate it. Kinda weird growing up in two, though, as most people train there. It’s kinda expected. But it’s just not something I want to do." The small smile slowly turned into a genuine smile spreading from ear to ear. Maybe this was what Evander needed to turn his life around. To learn more about himself. He didn’t need his brother. He didn’t need his family. All Evander needed was the happiness he deserved. The happiness every person in the world deserved. For the longest time, it felt so far away, but now it was within reach. You may think I’m a mistake, Apollo, but I’m not, and I plan on returning stronger than you could ever imagine.

"Alright, I got your ribs bind. Anything else hurting?" A heavy weight was lifted off his shoulders, and for the first time in his entire life, Evander felt free.

table by Anzie <333
thank you cato for the amazing Apollo dialogue <333

[kousei ♚]

n e w t

Stumbling through life while hanging on a thread, I've really developed a set response to nearly every situation I tend to find myself in. It's constant routine that's rarely ever broken with a sprinkle of sporadic events on the top; the sponge is still mostly the same consistency. No cracks on the surface and no pressure on the shell, I've never really seen the need to change. Same response every time, constant tick, the need to evolve never coursed through me. Same situation, same response.

('This fucking pussy, how is he related to Nevah in any way.')

It cuts through the darkness like a knife, pushes past the glass shard and the burning torso and I wince at the thought. Another disgruntled career who thought they could start something with Nevah before getting themselves put back into their rightful place. I always had to be the sacrificial lamb to resurrect their pride. Next chance they got, they would step to be like a terrier and lay onto me with the force of their damaged pride and anger. A familiar situation; my familiar response was to take it and spit snark at them with a hint of fire and venom. 'You can beat me, but you'll never beat Nevah.'

('Where have you been?')

Father's red question burns through the darkness and the agony, forcing its way to me through limbo. Silence could never be so deafening, father's sitting at that table, reading his oversized book calmly flicking the pages page by page. He never needs to look at me, doesn't even need to look up or acknowledge me; it's as if he already sees right through me. I can't exactly say 'I was just at the back alley gambling place, drinking and gambling away my allowance.' A familiar situation; my familiar response is to twist my tongue and spin lies. 'I was with Ivy after training.'

"White is a good colour." Evander's gentle words and my father's questions and my old lies shatter faster than my bones. Just like that my familiar situations and familiar responses are swallowed by the black darkness. Instead of father's words are a career's pride shattering I hear tape ripping and setting. Even I wince and shudder, pain lancing up my torso. Involuntary groans of pain tear through my throat and out of my lips. I don't have the right to complain, he's helping me.

All my life, familiar situations would be met by routine responses. All it takes is a spanner in the works, a spark in the wrong direction, an outlier and routine turns to mush and the familiar becomes meaningless.

What do I do when I have glass in my eye?

What do I do when my ribs break?

What do I do when I'm dying?

Routine's meaningless and the familiar has turned to cold mush between my fingers. Like bitter, wet sand.

All I've done is sit in the darkness, allowing Evander to relieve the pain. I'm bound by the arcane chains of limbo but the weight of being useless it oh so familiar. Crawl into my crab shell, let someone else do the work. After all, I'm the useless twin for a reason. Broken ribs, glass in my eye, livelihood stripped away and it takes a stranger from District Two to try and mend me. I could never be mended, I should be dying. Hanging onto limbo by a thread, waiting to tumble on one side or the other. The shadow is The Reaper's scythe faded and joined the darkness but I know I'll never be safe.

I'm not dying, he'll keep me alive. He said he would. More than everyone else has ever promised.

He pushes a soft spot but this time I suppress the urge to cry out. "And I agree with ya. Training isn’t fun. I hate it. Kinda weird growing up in two, though, as most people train there. It’s kinda expected. But it’s just not something I want to do." Understanding, gentle words wrap around me. He's surprisingly soothing, soothing to the point I feel myself relax in the dark.

When was the last time I heard someone dislike training like I do?

('Wow, that was actually a pretty decent throw. Bullseye!')

('Good, but Nevah does it better.')

('Needs more work.)

Everything's an indistinguishable smear along a white canvas. Red smeared with harsh words that seem irrelevant now that I'm soaked in sea salt and drowned in the darkness. Smeared along and drowning those four useless letters: N-E-W-T.

None of it is fun, he understands - surprisingly.

He stops binding and I feel a strange pressure holding my ribs. I let out a shocked choke and cough. "Alright, I got your ribs bind. Anything else hurting?" He says. I cough before shaking my head quickly.

I hate the fact I can't see him, I can't tell if he's worried, only by the sound of his voice. I'm begging for the chance to see his face. See if he's smiling, sneering, disappointed, scared, anything. The dark does a poor job of telling me if I'm dying or not. Sighing, I resign myself to the inevitable that I'll never know until I teeter over the edge of one side or the other.

"What are we going to do now?" I ask him. My voice cracks and my lip trembles despite me breathing a cold sigh of relief. I hate this.

I hate the unfamiliar and I hate not knowing how to respond; I hate not knowing. For once, I hate being useless.

What do you do when you're waiting to fall?

For once, I don't know. The routine is useless and the familiar has been drowned by the wave and torn in half by the glass.

[Knuckles]

[googlefont="Marck Script:400"]

Evander Birch

I open my eyes I try to see but I'm blinded by the white light

The sound of his thundering heart echoed through his mind traveling full speed flushing all thoughts away as the world grew silent for only a moment. He walked a lonely street away from the rest of his family taking a path that none of them wanted, yet his decision was clear the moment the glaive pierced Ares' eye in the sixty-sixth hunger games. Even the strongest of fighters never stood a chance in the games because their cockiness pushed them away from the reality. Evander thought he was alone. For several years he thought he was the only person in a career district refusing to train for the games, but in this moment of service his entire life was wrong. He lived a lie, and finally figuring out the truth had made a difference. Yet he wasn't in district four to receive the praise of others. Evander was searching for himself. His heart was bleeding, and he hoped helping someone else would mend the wounds and bind his shattered heart back together. The answers lingered in front of him pulling at his mind tearing him away from the worthless chains his family cuffed him in many years ago. The key was finding himself. If he was capable of changing the world for one person, that was all that mattered. The entire world didn't have to feel the change. Just changing it for one person was enough for him.

A genuine smile crept across his face for the first time in several years as the sensation of happiness crawled across his body. His heart leaped inside his chest, and he couldn't stop the smile from growing larger and larger until it finally spread from ear to ear. Butterflies danced in the pit of his stomach, and his face burned with embarrassment - Evander was happy knowing nobody could see him, yet his heart broke for the man lying on the ground with no idea of the colors dancing around him.

District four was a mess, and Evander wondered if the Capitol had caused it. If they had called the evacuation too late in order to flood the district of people. It was something the Capitol would do. Something President Snow would do to shatter the hope of any citizen living inside. The idea made him sick, and even he doubted President Snow would cause such a disaster.

But his mind froze as the sounds of footsteps grew louder behind him. His heart hammered inside his chest. Every hair stood on end, and his eyes were wide. What if I fail? What if I've done all this and the kid dies anyway?

The only way to know he survived is to get the rescuers here with the cot to carry him to the medical tent for the doctor's to save him.

Evander's thoughts lingered in the air as Newt shook his head. Nothing more was hurting. Nothing other than the thoughts of pending doom the kid must have been feeling.

Hallow bones held his body together as the string of a puppet master wrapped around him controlling his every movement. For many years he fought trying to break away from the world created by those he cared about. Evander wanted to show Apollo he was more than a worthless mistake, and the idea of living in district four pranced inside his mind, but the only thing stopping him was Lexi. His daughter was left under the care of his brother, and he feared for her. When he was sleeping, Apollo took her to the training center. Evander didn't want that. He wanted his daughter to grow up away from the career training, but maybe it was for the best.

"What are we going to do now?"

Time froze as the footsteps grew louder and louder.

Beads of sweat rolled down the side of his face, and his tongue stuck to the top of his mouth, but he couldn't leave. He couldn't escape.

If only Newt could see the smile spreading across Evander's face he'd realize it was almost over.

"Those footsteps are coming for you. They have a cot to transport you to the medical tent. A doctor will be there for further care. They're good people. You'll be in good hands."

As he finished speaking the group of rescuers stopped placing the cot on the on the ground beside him.

"They're going to have to lift you a bit to put you on it, and I can't make any promises it won't hurt, but they have to."

He inhaled sharply taking a deep breath holding it all in knowing he did what he could do, and he did it to the best of his ability. The rest was left up to the doctor.

"Newt, you're strong. Remember that."

table by Anzie <333

[kousei ♚]

n e w t

I've never felt consequences.

Sea, salt and blood cling to my skin like the broken labels downgrading my existence for seventeen years. Useless twin. Nevah's twin. Not quite there. Torn paper from the book of insults flung at me for seventeen years and with a bitter chuckle I realise that's all they are compared to this agony. Just balls of paper. Stab my eye, tear down by self worth, crack my ribs; it's all clung to me harder than my almost worthless existence next to everyone. Sea, salt and blood are clung onto my skin but a useless eye and self worth torn down are permanent.

I still feel as weightless as air.

The shadow of desperation hangs above me like my soft question spoken in desperation. What do we do? I feel like I've stepped into a foreign land having asked such a question because it's less about what we will do and more of what he will do. He doesn't have to be here, he doesn't have to be doing anything. I hear District Two is showered in riches; he could be sitting by a fire, reading a book, having a sip of wine. Instead he is here. Desperately trying to drag me out of limbo, standing in rubble and a pool of salt and seawater.

All I did was nearly die.

"I'm leaving."

"This is useless, you're dead anyway."

"No point."

Pass me along like a burden, no bandage can fix the gashes left by words and abandonment. Bind my torso, bind my eye - some wounds bandages can't even bind shut. Evander doesn't have to be here. But he wouldn't leave, would he? Trust has never come easily; it's hard to give trust when no one's earned the right to hold it. I've trusted Evander so far. Like my current state, I've blindly trusted him for as long as time's been smeared across the blurred canvas. Isn't he saving my life?

I swear, I hear the slow cracks across the atmosphere around us. I'm going to break down and beg him not to leave. Please, I need you. I don't dare speak the words out loud - it's as if they're all hiding behind some building. Dad, Nevah, Evander. Hiding behind some wrecked building waiting for me to break down under the weight of all my weakness and beg this stranger to save me just so they can scold me and call me useless. I will never beg. As if I was fighting by not begging for my life but I can't think of anything worth fighting for.

Just. Red.

Blind, inert and vulnerable - for once I feel the consequences of being useless. I squirm under the pressure of time ticking very slowly. It feels like an age has passed between stepping into foreign ground by asking him what we're going to do and now. Everything feels so obscure. The ability to know was stripped when glass went in my eye and Evander blinded my good eye with his good intentions. Some things just can't be replaced. I shudder and squirm - I've never felt the consequences of not knowing until now. I'd never breathe smoke into my lungs again if it means I could see Evander's face, if it means I can see if he's sneering, smiling or horrified. My fate's obscure and Evander's face is unavailable as an indicator.

I feel so as weightless as air, when the wind picks up I involuntarily shudder for the fear that I might be picked up and thrown around; lost to the death littered plains of limbo forever. Please, no. I won't beg, not out loud at least.

Time still drags. I've never known the consequences of time dragging in your last moments - until now.

"Those footsteps are coming for you. They have a cot to transport you to the medical tent. A doctor will be there for further care. They're good people. You'll be in good hands." His words are a knife. Slicing through the heavy weight binding time to these death littered plains like it's nothing but butter. I exhale, a rattled sigh of relief, tension snapped from within my chest I feel myself sink; I'm no longer as weightless as air. No death rattle is preparing to spew from the back of my throat, it was torn to ribbons.

Time speeds up and I swear I feel the chains of limbo collapse at my feet. No death rattle hanging at the back of my throat just waiting to sounds. Just air.

I've never known the consequences of staggered relief.

As time speeds up the footsteps get closer and closer, countering the symphony of death strung and hung in the atmosphere caused by the giant wave. My mouth opens and closes, I'm at a loss for words. The footsteps are right next to me.

Take me home. I refuse to beg, refuse to beg aloud at least.

"They're going to have to lift you a bit to put you on it, and I can't make any promises it won't hurt, but they have to." Evander's voice informs me. My mouth opens and closes yet again, I'm still at a loss for words. All I manage is a nod of recognition. Until now, I've never known the consequences of being as a loss for words.

Still, they obey and I let out an involuntary yell -as if it's been rehearsed thousands of times- as they shift my body onto something. They're going to save me- my train of thought cuts - no, Evander already did that. My angel of safety, my angel of mercy, the man who's healing hands (useful hands) patched up a useless boy defined by four useless letters.

Doesn't matter what it is, it's lifting me up. This time I bite back my groan of agony. Am I going to live? Useless question - already know the answer because of him. I feel my head turn to where he was before, hoping he's still there. When my lips part they're still at a loss for words. Why? Why save the useless boy with nothing but a white canvas smeared with red and who's whole individuality could be defined by four useless letters? A boy who's never known consequences, I'm at a loss for words as to what he could possibly have that was worth living for.

"Newt, you're strong. Remember that."

When the corners of my lips twist upwards into a smile they're not at a loss for words, they're looking for a way to thank the man who wasted his time saving the useless boy defined by four useless letters. The obscure, the red, the agony - all of it vanishes beneath the words thank you that replace the impending death rattle but could never find the open air.

Statements like that are worth living for.

I've never known the consequences the statements worth living for.

~Fin~