Pry Out The Pain {Zagreus/Jacob}

[d5b sergio quiverus [kap]]

zagreus moon

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what part

of living

The reaping's inching closer every day. It doesn't scare me, though. It thrills me. I want the blood to pulse through my veins with adrenaline with my name booming across the District Square at the reaping. If it's not my name, I want to be the one shouting to volunteer in the place of whomever was the lucky soul to be chosen.

I guess I've taught myself that being reaped is lucky, though. In the past, had my parents not abused me into thinking that I had to go into the Games and win for my family's glory, it's likely that I wouldn't want to be picked. Now, however, it feels like something I absolutely need to do. I need to go in and fight for my family's honor- or just to get my need for violence out of my system, even if it results in my death or that of others.

I want to fight. I want to spill blood. I want to kill, and I want to win.

Venturing out on gloomy mornings satisfied me. They made me feel... alive. It reminded me of the days when I used to sneak out early to go for a walk and then make my way quietly back into the house before anyone else awoke. It was nice, being rebellious, and neither of my parents ever even found out about it. It's years later now, and the information has still been kept from their knowledge. A harsh swipe to my face would likely be delivered if I said even a word about it.

The chilly air nipped at my flesh as I wandered down the sidewalk. It felt nice. I'd always enjoyed the cold- it reminded me of my heart. Then again, some people have told me I don't even have one of those. Of course, I'd have to have one to live, but on an emotional level, perhaps I didn't.

My t-shirt and shorts would likely be seen as an impractical combination of clothing to be adorned in on a cold autumn morning, but it didn't bother me at all. I glanced at a few people who walked by me, likely making their way to the shops to run early morning errands, or to any weekend jobs they may have to work on this particular Saturday morning. I'd never bothered getting a job, and surprisingly, my parents didn't seem to care about that. They had no idea how much trouble I normally caused during the day, either, but they never asked, so they'd never know. Again, it was something that I wouldn't be adding to their pool of knowledge.

The reaping was on my mind as my feet sounded gently against the pavement, my steps light as they often were. Many people didn't expect that I would be such a gentle walker. Perhaps that's because I'm not generally a gentle person otherwise. My snide comments often turn people away, but that doesn't deter me from making them. I've never been a polite individual. In all honesty, I don't think that will ever change.

Thinking about the reaping wasn't unusual for me. As I was walking, though, my mind shot back to one of the past. I could recall the 72nd reaping when Cecilia Brontz was called to the stage. I'm not sure why that name had stood out to me, but perhaps it was because the girl was so small and innocent seeming. I'd later learned that she had a brother, but never did find out how he was fairing after it all. Perhaps I'd find out eventually.

Perhaps eventually meant today.

As I was lost in thought, which I normally didn't allow myself to be, I stopped short, barely avoiding crashing into a boy who appeared to be a bit younger than myself. That was when I felt that there was something familiar about him. Today was the day I'd meet Cecilia's brother. I'd seen his face before. This had to be the boy. How did it feel to lose a loved one? Perhaps I could pry that out of him.

"So sorry about that, Mr. Brontz," I said. Now I just had to hope I was right about who this young man was.

says you

gotta die

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