Sacrifice your desires (Jess/Rosetta)

[Tom]

M I N O S

The room that they had put him in felt like a prison cell. Family and friends visiting the tributes who were being sent off to the darkness, to see if it pulls them in torturing everything that they were. The hallway seemed to stretch forever, white walls and hard floors lined it, Peacekeepers' arms lay upon his shoulders pushing him towards the train, the memory of his mother crying to him still fresh in his head. "Minos. My son, take the pocket watch, it'll remind you of us." The problem was Minos didn't want anything to do with them. Family didn't matter to the man who was going in the Hunger Games, nothing mattered but himself and living. There was no one else important to him, but himself.

The tears of his mother still stained her face when she had left him. Tears that he had caused to fall out of her eyes in a stream, but it had been the only way for him to get rid of her. The only way to stop the pain that they'll feel when they meet the true Minos, the one who he had became in the years of being alone, abandoned on the streets by himself. They weren't ready to meet him. They would never be ready to see what their precious son had become. Brown eyes stare down at his own hand, the blood still felt there, but he knew it wasn't, that incident had been a long time ago, a few years now if he was still counting. Which, he was. The screams still fresh in his mind from that day. Minos was a killer. His family didn't know, but Minos did. Minos would never forget that fateful day.

The peacekeepers let Minos climb aboard the train where his new storm would begin. A storm bigger than any other one he's gone through. A storm that could wipe him out like a tree would fall during a heavy storm. Minos could be uprooted and shoved over, his soul could vanish and leave a dead body behind. Anything was possible now that he would be fighting against twenty three other children who had the skills meant to fight or the skills to fall. Either way, Minos Vallanso had a lot of work ahead of him. Though, there was no fear. Minos knew what the Hunger Games were like, after all three kids who were the same age as him had gone in before him and perished. Sol Shim, the knight whose story ends with Atticus Manor, his ally, his friend, and the one who betrayed him. Tyler Westbrook, the guy who was normal, and yet, after killing the day before, Septys Lexig ripped him apart. That was the end of Tyler's story. Then there was Saxton Hale, a girl who was against the world, only to be chopped down in a feast. They had succumbed to the darkness. Minos Vallanso was already a part of the darkness.

Inside the train, Minos felt like he could breath, just for a second. The emotions that had been hidden for almost an hour were ready to spill, but he couldn't let them out, never could. He felt nothing anymore, but guilt and selfishness. Addiction was the biggest thing he felt, it overpowered everything he felt and created the Minos that everyone can see now. The Minos that his family would fear. The train was leaving, Minos could feel it lurch to life, the whole compartment was filled with food. Inside of the compartment was three other people, two of which Minos could identify, the other was the girl whose name he never caught during the reaping, thanks to his addiction. Minos, feed me. A quick hand goes through his hair trying to calm the craving down just for a little bit.

Lethe Turner, the victor of the 58th Hunger games. Her blonde hair accented her very well. Minos hadn't watched that games, mostly people who were adults by that point remember it. Though, Minos knew of the 68th victor's, Patricia Valfierno. She was someone who Minos thought was more attractive, but in all honesty, everyone in the train was attractive in their own way. His words flying outward towards the ear of them all, "This is like every man's dream, being surrounded by three pretty girls." His typical smirk lifting from the corners of his face. The train felt comfortable now that it was moving and that he felt more at peace with his privacy and not looking like center of attention.


Words from earlier rings in his head again, "Mom, I hate you. You need to leave." The look upon her face was one of breaking. Minos had broken the one person who had comforted him since the beginning, but it was for her own good. Her words ringing in his head again, "I love you, Minos, you'll always be my son, even if you don't love me like i love you." The sting behind the words hurt, but Minos had been strong, accepting the watch and his last words ringing in the open as she had left and his life had turned upside down, pushed onto a train heading to the darkest place in the whole country. "I hate you, I never want to see you again." The sigh of breath escapes his throat before he speaks again, introducing himself, "Hi again, I'm Minos, but you all know that. I didn't catch yours, what is it?" Eyes stare at the girl who was a year younger than him. The girl who would be representing the shitty district that he knew as District five. Minos Vallanso wasn't nice, but for him to survive, he had to play nice. They would all fall into his trap eventually, it was only a matter of time before the trap would snap, taking his prey and allowing them to accept the darkness with open arms. Minos had to sacrifice his own desires before he could get what he wanted. Mayhem.

Made by Frankel

[jess]

E M M E R Y

my head throbs with consternation, the mahogany coloured ribbon falling to the table as it breaks loose from the entangled waves which proceed to fall around my shoulders, scratching at the skin of my neck and sending a sudden jolt down my spine - i am feeling, breathing, living and i'm not in my home. my limbs are not used to such movement and my joints are heavy, my body growing weary and skin tingling from prolonged exposure to the sunlight that casts upon the train now, blinding the corner of my eye.

i was not made for the sunlight, and i was not born to die like this.

it seemed more of a blessing than a curse to be reaped, to be granted a heroic death i was undeserving of. reclused weaklings like me deserve to rot in their own homes, die from their lack of self-care like my mother did; they do not deserve to die in a way that will be remembered.

although i am low on time in this life, my mind makes no effort to acknowledge this. most people would want to leave an impact on the world before they died, and do everything they wanted to do - i have nothing i want to do.

when i die, what words do i want to speak? do i want to be remembered, to be known for my dying words, or do i want to fade away into nothingness, my name forgotten and my bones rotting in the underground. buried six feet under and covered in moss and weeds, like my mother - or left in the forest, like my father, collecting dust. i don't think there's an exact technique to dying; i have been close to death, and i never think of such things. when the harpoon shot out and speared my father, he did not have a specific plan of what he was to do. his final word was emmery, a frantic calling of my name before the capitol's hovercraft shot him down.

i've forgotten the order i'm supposed to be following. blink, breathe... there's a voice from above me, someone speaking...move? my head moves to look up at the boy from my district because he's speaking and my mother always taught me to listen when somebody speaks. "this is like every man's dream, being surrounded by three pretty girls."

i don't understand the boy's words. is my tumbleweed of hair considered attractive to him? i have always been told i bear a pretty face, bar the hollowed cheekbones and dull eyes, but i feel anything but pretty now. though i am sure the capitol will change that. i run my fingers through my hair and can't even reach halfway without getting caught up in a knot. i wonder how much it will hurt when they try to tame my hair. not that i mind pain. it's a wake up call from the past few months i've spent doing nothing.

i blink and breathe, following the order as my mind tries to pinpoint when i should move. my arms are frozen on the table and they don't seem to want to move, and i've already looked around at everything in the room at least once. so what-


"Hi again, I'm Minos, but you all know that. I didn't catch yours, what is it?"

i take that as a call to move because i have to look up at him again. he's asking- what is he asking? my name? my mouth opens to speak until nothing comes from my throat because i haven't spoken to someone in a long time and the last time i did speak to someone was probably when i had to go out to buy food. and i'm not buying food now, it's the same thing anyway, just say it-

"Emmery."

my voice sounds a little choked, and too soft for my liking. i don't want emmery johnson to be a soft person, because soft people don't get anywhere in the games, they're killed off in the bloodbath as fodder for the bloodthirsty tributes, to prove their worth to the sponsors at home. i may have been a recluse for the past few months but i know the basic gist of how the hunger games work.

i nearly ask him his name again but he already said it, what was it, minos, and i don't really have anything else to say so my back slumps against the seat and i shut up.

the seats on the train are very comfy. i've never seen a room so luxurious, and so colourful, the biggest contrast to my monochrome bedroom back home. home, which has now been left unattended. would they move someone else in? i wish i was there to apologise for the mess but i'll probably be in a body bag somewhere and i don't think corpses can speak. i don't know much about the world but i know that when you die you can't do anything anymore, you can't speak, move, breathe or blink, and although i won't miss speaking i will miss the other three because that's how i've been handling life so far. taking it in baby steps, like when i got nervous because i had to go to school and i didn't want to and my father crouched down and looked me in the eyes and told me to breathe.

he said breathing was good for when you were nervous so i breathe now, but quieter because i don't want the minos boy to notice that i'm being weird again. i've always been slightly different from other people, but i never paid any heed because i didn't talk to others anyway, so what was the point of worrying over being different?

i guess i've always been a recluse.

the least i can do is make sure that's not the only reason i'm remembered.

Made by Frankel