revelations {phalan + hesper}

[[nyte]]

phalan locke.

I really didn't need any of the things I took. Colorful pens with their caps missing and a broken figurine tucked away in some far corner of the store. I could afford the things I took, the broken things that everyone overlooked and yet my hands are clammy and my heart is racing. I cannot stop looking for them, the scary peacekeepers my father told me not to approach- as though simply by thinking of breaking the rules one will appear in front of me. Tie my hands behind my back and take me away. They say that's what happened to my brother, anyway.

The things aren't taken yet, technically. Although sinful hands have woven them into her web, the pretty porcelain mother with her arms outstretched has been stowed between my skin and the waist of white jeans. The pens stain my pockets, shoved rather conspicuously into their new home. I'm taking the things no one would miss, but I couldn't really tell you why. Perhaps it's the way my heart is now pounding, excitement tastes like fear upon the tip of my tongue and I feel eyes upon the back of my neck where there are none.

Oh, I feel so alive.

"'Ey, girl!" My back was to the door, freedom mere inches away. My heart swells when he shouts, pressing against its cage in a way that makes me want to scream. "I know you ain't tryna pull one over on me, dirty bitch!" The wind whistles, swarming through an opened door and I haven't the time to respond before my feet start moving. I didn't ask them to, but I know that I want the things I took. I know he'll take them away and so I run.

But I was never very good at running. Moving as fast as I can, cold air burning my lungs with every desperate breath and no matter how it hurts I cannot get enough. He's behind me, I can hear him. Huffing and puffing about as much as me. It occurs to me that I really should be in better shape than a forty year old man with the build of a dwarf but there isn't much time to worry about it. I'm losing steam, and fast.

If he catches me they'll take me away. The men in white suits, with poison lips that promise to protect. There is no such thing as sanctuary in Panem and so I take the second best. A large building with pretty wooden doors, one that offers plenty of places to hide from demons with loud footsteps and wheezing breaths. 

The doors shout when they hit the wall, mere force of my entrance sending echoes throughout the hollow building. I can't breath, I can't see. Panic guides my footsteps, one-two-three steps forward and into something solid. Something warm and alive and "FucK" (father never lets me say those kinds of words) "No time to explain, come with me." 

Her hand. It's definitely her hand. Because its soft and sweet, small enough to fit within my own without swallowing it whole. I pull her past a couple long benches, wondering who on earth would want to sit in such stiff looking things. Chairs with soft velvet and cushioning have always been my favorite.

Past more doors, into a dead end and I guess there isn't much more to do than lock them and hope the dwarf-man has given up, leaving me with the spoils of our war. My cheeks are red, grin painted to dry lips as I catch my bearing. "Oh my god!" The words are meant for me, but I look at my companion too. 

"Oh my god." I repeat them because I was not expecting to steal such a pretty vixen. But I do hope I can keep her here a little while longer.