through the eyes of a child // nadia.

[k!ah]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, background-image: url(https://i.pinimg.com/originals/2e/de/01/2ede01a52b8964729b2666c9f3b8eba0.jpg); background-position: top; background-repeat: repeat-x; background-color: 1b1b1b; width: 375px; padding:8px; border: 0px solid #948C75;] n a d i a. ✸   ✸   ✸ "World is covered by our trails Scars we cover up with paint Watch them preach in sour lies I would rather see this world through the eyes of a child Through the eyes of a child. " She's falling. She's falling and she can't stop. She keep falling till she hits the sandy ground. Her sword had cut through flesh. Bone. Tendons. Muscles. She had removed the girls arm. Cut it right from the shoulder joint. The whole thing. She had watched as it fell . Like her now. Blood rained down around it, hand still grasping the hilt of the blade which had cut through her time, and time again. Blade which was soaked with her blood. They hit the ground. They don't get back up. Sort of like her now. She doesn't get back up. The sun burns into her skin, shining brightly into her eyes. But she doesn't feels it. She barely feels anything- well not physically. She was beyond feeling her physical pain now. Her body was shutting down. One organ at a time it would shut down, until only her heart was beating. Then her heart would give way and that would be the end of Nadia Ivanov. The girl from district 6. Mentally, though, she hurt. She hurt so much, so much that she was almost glad it was time for it to end. Nadia was no longer the girl she was proud to be. If she was to see her reflection she would not recognise the girl starting back at her. She would have the same coloured hair, her eyes would be the same green, but there would be something about them that would no longer be hers. They would not be filled with innocence that should belong in the eyes of the youth. But they would be cold. They would be pained. They would be the eyes of someone willing to kill. That was not her. That was not Nadia Ivanov. Not the girl who had left district 6. Nadia Ivanov died the moment she lifted her blade. The moment it sliced into flesh. The moment the thought of murder crossed her mind. The moment she thought that it was okay to murder if it meant her survival. The girl who lay in the dirt, blood soaking the earth beneath her, looked like Nadia Ivanov. Sounded like Nadia Ivanov. But was not her. She was an attempted murderer. Not the girl her mother had raised her to be- but a girl who had given into the temptations of the Capitol. She had become a pawn in their game. She had been manipulated. Now she had been executed for her sins. Her head falls to the side and she sees him in the distance. Her father, crumpled on the ground, sobbing into the broken body of Nadia Ivanov. He hold her close to him. Tears splatter onto her pale, blood streaked cheeks as she watches his dead daughter. As he cradles her decaying corpse. He apologises into her hair, the sound of his wails filling her ears. He was broken. He was so broken that she knew that he too would be another victim of the games that wouldn't get up. She knew that he would not survive this. And she would be breaking another promise. Time would not heal him this time. Time would be the enemy. She could only hope that he would hold onto something. Try and fight through this. Forgive himself. Tears well in her eyes, blurring her vision and her father fades, his wails turn into the cries of the dying around her. She can no longer feel her legs. Her arms. Her body. "Da... Dad.... I forgive you..." The words escape her lips on a whisper. She begs Ripred- if he would still listen to her- that they reach him. That he hears them. Really hears them. She could hardly breathe now. Her lungs refusing to take in the oxygen needed to keep her heart pumping. The last thing Nadia Ivanov hears is the dying thump of her heart as it gives way. th-thump thum... thump... th... .... "Darker times will come and go Times you need to see her smile And mothers' hearts are warm and mild I would rather feel this world through the skin of a child Through the skin of a child."

[ end of Nadia Ivanov ]