High Hopes for a Living {Damaris/Oliver} {JB}
Feb 10, 2019 13:16:18 GMT -5
Post by kap on Feb 10, 2019 13:16:18 GMT -5
Always told you not to love me
Now look what you made me do
I got poison in my pocket,
told you I was bad news
I knew what it was like. I knew how it felt. The feeling of having your name called at the reaping and knowing almost certainly that your fate was sealed was a terrifying one. Your name, the thing they'd called you your whole life and you'd always responded to, was now the one thing you didn't want to hear, and the one thing that you wanted more than anything not to have to respond to. When my name was called at the reaping, I had felt my heart drop. I had been terrified, and I had absolutely no idea what to do. In that moment, yes, I was grateful that it was me and not Jory. It wasn't my brothers, either. It was me, though, and that wasn't a satisfying thing.
I'd been selected for the Games last year, said my goodbyes, and never expected to return to District Eight alive, especially after I was struck down by that giant sloth mutt in the arena. It had taken my life, I was sure in that moment. I was wrong, though, at least in a way. Yes, that blow should've killed me, but thanks to the quell twist, it didn't, and I wasn't sure if that was something that I should really be grateful for or not. Some days, I think that I may have been better off if the damn thing had killed me instead.
I felt this way especially because, on the morning of the 81st reaping, I was forced to show up. I'd been chosen once, fought in the Games, 'died' and come back to live in District Eight, and now there was a risk of me facing it again. At least Annie, the girl from Four who'd won the 80th Games, didn't have the risk of being picked again. Neither did Faux, since he was eighteen when he was chosen that first time. Now he was too old. At least some people were safe. My brothers and sisters weren't, though. Jory and his brother weren't safe, either, nor was I.
It was terrifying to think that any of us would have to face it all again.
When the reaping commenced, however, and the first name was called, I was in a way, relieved, as it wasn't either of my sisters. I also, however, felt pain, as it was still someone in District Eight that would have to suffer through the Games like I did, but they might not come out alive. Plus, if they did come out alive, it would be as a killer, and they'd have to live with that guilt. I suppose that's the one part of my survival that's not too bad. I never killed anyone, and I don't have to live with having done so like the victors of the Games do every year.
I wondered if Annie felt guilt, even though those she killed came back to life in the end.
I couldn't let myself think on that too much, though. The male name was about to be called, and I had to pray that it wasn't me, or anyone that I knew.
An unfamiliar name boomed over the District Square and heads turned. I felt bad for him, and I wanted to help him, despite him being a stranger, but I could never throw myself back into the arena where I'd already been and fought once. I just couldn't do it. Not for a stranger, at least. For Jory? Yes. For Reggie? For Henry? Of course. I knew them and I loved them. I almost felt guilty, though, about the fact that I wasn't willing to step in for this boy.
The thought that popped into my head after that was to say goodbye to this tributes. If I cared about them so much and felt sympathy for them to such a strong degree, I should let them know, even though they were complete strangers. I'd visit them in the Justice Building. It felt like the right thing to do.
I started with the Hope girl. The last name was one that I knew, as there had been many tributes sharing that last name over the years, as well as the mayor of the District himself being a part of that family. I was sure that she'd have other visitors, given her large family, but I just had to hope that I could still have a little bit of time with her, as a way to ease my mind as well as hers, if possible.
Upon entering the room, I gave a gentle smile to the girl.
"Damaris?" I said to her. "I'm Oliver Wren. I was a tribute in the Games last year, and I wanted you to know that I understand what you're going through." I paused for a moment and then continued with what I was saying. How could I word this without scaring her more than she probably already was? I was terrified when I was in the situation she was in now. I limped a little closer to her by coming into the room and shutting the door behind me with my crutch. My knee had never healed properly after it was smashed by that giant sloth in the arena. It was my fault, though. I hadn't rested it as long as they had told me to.
"I understand how scared you probably are right now, trust me. You can do this, though." I looked her in the eyes. "I know it seems impossible. I know everything seems hopeless, but sometimes, a little miracle might happen. If you fight, there's always a chance that that little miracle will happen for you, and you'll come back here as awake and alive as you are right now, okay?"
I leaned on my crutch, looking at the girl. I knew I was only fifteen years old and probably not the most motivational individual in existence, but every word that I said to her was true. I believed in each and every syllable that had just exited my lips, and I wanted Damaris Hope to know that. She was a Hope, and there was hope for her.My demeanor made you wait,
but the consequences stayed
I killed everything we were
Baby, murder was a case
title inspired by: "High Hopes" by Panic! at the Disco
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