there are no heroes . charade

[cass]

m e r e d i t h

All the hurt, all the lies
All the tears that they cried
When the moment is just right
You'll see fire in their eyes

It had almost been a year since Anabelle’s death. Her body was buried somewhere in the forest behind the house, in an unmarked grave, covered by leaves, and weeds by now. There was no way of knowing where she was, and Meredith wasn’t brave enough to try and find her. Sometimes she’d pause, finger grazing the door frame as she stared into the forest before her. The trees would shake and wave with the depth of the burden they carried, promising nothing but pain if you set foot in their midst. The ache that filled her chest wasn’t strong enough to make her feel brave, so she’d take a deep breath and bury it, as far down into her heart as she could. Later that night she’d let it out, pummeling the pillow on her bed until her arms were so tired she could no longer lift them.

Now Anabelle was just another forgotten soul, lost to the lives they lead, another victim of the Strauss family. Meredith often wondered what Jason had been like, a name with no face, the person who had slept in her bed, and lived in her place before he had been killed. She was sure the weapons she held had been his as well.

Victor’s voice dragged her for her thoughts, and her gaze snapped upwards as he yelled her name. Mumbling a quick apology she averted her gaze, scrambling to her feet before he could say something cruel. She didn’t have it in her today, to let the sting of his words slide, so she moved, grabbing the spear against the wall. The wood was cool against her palm, and it scratched against her skin as her hand tightened. The weapon was familiar to her now, an extension of her being, a balanced tool that she could wield with precision.

By the time she turned around, everyone else had paired up and she was left facing the one person she was not yet ready to talk to. Isabelle. Cursing softly, she moved to the other side of the room where there was still a bit of free space. She hadn’t spoken to the younger sister in months, Meredith should have tried harder to build some kind of connection with her after Anabelle had died. But she hadn’t, instead, she’d let the death of her best friend invade her mind, and prevent her from being a better person. Anabelle would have hated her for it, she’d have yelled at her for not looking after her younger sister.

“Okay, Iz, fight me,”she suppressed the sigh that threatened to follow after she spoke, instead swallowing it down as she raised her spear. She looked at the young girl, trying her best to leave her face expressionless. They already believed her to be weak, and she feared that her own name would be on that piece of paper this year. Perhaps that would be poetic justice, to follow after Anabelle after failing her.

[charade]

i s a b e l l e .

Come away little lamb
Come away to the water
Give yourself so we might live a new
Come away little lamb
Come away to the slaughter

There’s a quell coming up. Mr. and Mr. and Mrs. Strauss are all excited about it. Cause quells have different rules they said. Fifteen years ago, which is ancient times before I was born, the number of tributes was all mixed up and district two got four. I think they want that rule again. They had us watch it. We have to watch a lot of games reruns to study today.

It’s boring after a while.

I like the 80th though. I like Annie. She’s really cool and I think I’d like to meet her more than Julian or Cricket. Maybe if I win this new quell I can ask the gamemakers to bring Annabelle back to life like they did all the tributes that time. Then I won’t feel so alone anymore.

But I’d have to find her first.

She’s somewhere out in the forest, but she doesn’t have a marker like the tributes in the fancy graveyard. It’s cause sentiment is a weakness and they don’t want us to cry over her all the time. Well, not all of us would. I would. And maybe stupid Meredith. We’re supposed to spar now, and everybody’s pairing off. Oh-oh, my head is rolling away again. Mr. Strauss says that I need more focus, that if I don’t always pay ‘tension to my surroundings, it’s gonna get me killed.

I don’t know though, I’ve watched a whole bunch of tributes pay attention and die anyway. I think it’s cause they keep trying to give speeches while they’re bleeding and their legs are cut off. No talk, only fight. The other thing I think is that there’s a lot of tributes that are all kissy when they should be stabby. They’re dumb. And kissing is gross. But you know what's grosser?
Meredith. Who I’m supposed to spar with.

REALLY?

I have to spar with Meredith? UGH! She’s such a poop.

“Okay, Iz, fight me.”

My face gets hot and my chest feels funny, like it’s gonna explode. I don’t want her to call me Iz. That was Annabelle’s nickname for me. She DOESN”T GET TO CALL ME THAT. Big dummy. I grit my teeth and grab one of the spears off the wall. I wish I had a knife. A me-sized knife, not one of those big ones like the machetes. That’s really just a sword pretending to be a knife.

Spears are hard. I can’t always balance with them and I hate them.

But Meredith’s a big old dummy and I wanna poke her full of holes. So I yell to be scary and charge like the skelephant from the circus arena in the rerun I just watched this morning and jab my spear in her direction three times like she’s that thin girl from district eight. Maybe I can’t poke her eyes out, but Mr. and Mr. and Mrs. Strauss don’t mind if we get hurt.

I hate them too; the scabs on my arms from my last match are all itchy and they suck.

[cass]

m e r e d i t h

All the hurt, all the lies
All the tears that they cried
When the moment is just right
You'll see fire in their eyes

Sometimes she imagines what Jason was like, she wonders which side of the bed he had slept on and if her head now lies where his once was. They don’t say much about him, another forgotten memory along with Anabelle. His name carved into the chair that she now claims when they watch their friends fight to the death. She liked to imagine he was different from her, that he had truly tried to fit in and make something of himself, but life was just too cruel. There was some small comfort in thinking that they were all being treated unfairly, that they were all suffering in the same ways.

Meredith’s hand tightens on the spear, and she watches as Isabelle moves, there’s something off about her. Before Anabelle had died she’d been a more lively child, an extra limb to their friendship group dragged along in their reading session and huddles at night. Anabelle had made sure she was never left out, but since her death Meredith had almost started pretending that Isabelle had stopped existing as well. They had the same blonde hair and trusting eyes, and it was like a sword in her own heart every time she looked into them.

Isabelle yells, her little face contorting in anger as she holds onto her spear with both hands. The weapon was far too big for someone of her stature and Meredith steps backward, rolling her eyes as she deflects the first jab that comes her way. With ease she swings again, deflecting the second and third jab. It’s not hard to avoid, and knock each strike out of the way, her little fingers don’t even fit around the circumference of the spear.

There’s a pause, a lull in the fight as the sequence shifts and it’s Meredith’s turn to strike. She can see the scabs that littler Isabelle’s arms, and as she jabs her spear she pulls back. There was already too much self-loathing in her heart, she couldn’t add more, because she had decided to go all out on the little twelve-year-old. Her first jab is an intentional miss, and her gaze flickers around the room, making sure Victor was nowhere near. Thankfully he was busy scolding someone else.

“If I could have traded places with her, I would have,” Meredith says, another jab, another miss as she moves the spear tip to Isabelle’s side. “She was my best friend,” and I wasn’t brave enough. She had often wondered if the Strauss Trio would have let her volunteer, let her take Anabelle’s place. Her nightmares said that they would have simply swapped Finn’s name for her own, and Meredith knew that she could not live with herself if she had been in that ring. She would have killed Anabelle because Meredith was afraid to die.

[charade]

i s a b e l l e .

Come away little lamb
Come away to the water
Give yourself so we might live a new
Come away little lamb
Come away to the slaughter

I know Annabananabelle wasn’t the first to die. There’s a name on my bed that’s scratched out. Rowan. Some of the older kids said that Rowan said she wasn’t going to fight her brother, so Victor put her out of her misery. I’m not a baby. I know they mean Mr.Strauss killed her. Dummies. I watched Finn and his stupid face put a sword through Annabelle. I’ve watched the same tributes die over and over again on video.

I know what put someone out of their misery means. Dummies.

Rowan was a dummy too. You don’t tell Mr. and Mr. and Mrs. Strauss no. I learned that really fast. I think they only adopted me cause Annabelle begged them. Cause I was going to be all alone at the orphanage without her. Annabelle and Isabelle. The two bells. Maybe Annabelle was a dummy too. Maybe she should have left me and then I wouldn’t have had to see Finn put a hole in her. There’s someone else in her bed now too.

Meredith smacks my jab away and I almost lose my grip on the spear. GRR.  What a dummy. She doesn't even read to me anymore. And then she blocks me  again and again. UGH! The only day I hate more than spear day is polesword day. They’re too big. I WANT a ME-SIZED KNIFE. Knives are good. You can hide them in your shoe. Or in your hat. Or in your pants. But bow and arrow day is fun too. Aiming at targets is a lot easier than sparring with all these clodhoppers. I don’t know what a clodhopper is but I think a lot of the other kids are them.

“If I could have traded places with her, I would have; she was my best friend.” I crinkle my nose and huff like that wolf that blew down all the piggy’s houses. “I wish you were dead too.” I say. And I think she’s made a mistake. She missed me again, her spear went past my side and I’m closer to her. Too close. So I step forward quickly and stomp on her dumb foot as hard as I can before I kick her in the shin.  Ha! I smirk at her, scrunching my whole face so that my eyes are squinting and my smile can reach them. 

“She was your friend? So?” I’m trying to whisper but it’s still kinda loud. Like a cat hissing. “She. Was. My. Sister!” I jab again but—oh-oh, my hand slipped. The tip of the spear wavers down and hits the dumb mat, I’ve gotta bring it back up before she—

What’s the word called? Explore? Explort? Exploit? Yeah.

Before she exploits the opening.

Oh poop.

[cass]

m e r e d i t h

All the hurt, all the lies
All the tears that they cried
When the moment is just right
You'll see fire in their eyes

Meredith flinched, Isabelle had a sharp tongue and it cut right into her heart. The spear in her hand felt weak, and for a moment she thought her fingers would betray her and it’d drop to the floor. It hadn’t, and she breathed, feeling her heart stumble over open wounds as she watched Isabelle, Meredith’s eyes heavy with sadness. Isabelle moved, suddenly she had stepped closer as Meredith had intentionally missed her jab, moving under her guard. Seconds later, Isabelle was stomping her foot as hard as she could onto Meredith’s, before sending a swift and vicious kick into her shin.

Fuck. Ow.

She hissed, the air slipping past her teeth as she bit back a nasty string of curse words that would have sent her to an early grave if Victor was within earshot. It took a strange amount of control for Meredith to stop herself from whacking the brat with her own spear until she was purple and bleeding. Instead she shuffled back, limping on her aching foot. She resisted the urge to nurse her new wound, her shin sent painful throbs of agony all the way up to her head. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. The fucking shin, of all the places Isabelle could hit.

Her breath came out in hurried gasps as she fought to control the pain, trying her best to ignore the delighted smirk that Isabelle had plastered all over her dumb smug face. Shit, no, shit. She couldn’t resort to that, it wasn’t Isabelle’s fault, she was young, she was hurting and she was directing her pain at Meredith. Through gritted teeth she listened as the younger girl hissed at her, reminding her of the facts she already knew. Meredith didn’t think to tell her that would help, so she clamped her lips shut and watched as Isabelle fumbled with her spear.

Now, her instincts screamed at her to move, knowing fully well that Victor would expect her to beat Isabelle down, hit her and punish her for her mistake. But Meredith’s hand only tightened on the spear, and she moved back another step, opening up the space between them. She wouldn’t take advantage of Isabelle. She had her own fair share of wounds littering her arms from when Elizabeth had felt the need to slice her half a dozen times during glaive training. She had scars on her legs from Elijah hitting her with an axe, or when Declan decided stabbing her with his sword in her thigh would be a great idea.

“Grip it tighter, further up the shaft” she snapped, eyes flashing with annoyance, “you should know better than that. If you’re going to act all tough at least hold your spear correctly.”

[charade]

i s a b e l l e .

Come away little lamb
Come away to the water
Give yourself so we might live a new
Come away little lamb
Come away to the slaughter

I think I actually hurt her.

Good.

She’s gritting her teeth and I made her limp! The adults would be happy, I’m pretty sure.

I roll my eyes. Victor would say that she’s weak. I think he’d be right. You’re supposed to press the advantage on every opening. Even I know that, and most of the kids have been here way longer. I knew she was a dummy. She even walked backwards! Hello??? That’s not fighting. That’s retreating. That’s being a coward. Weak! No wonder she’s got all those cuts and scrapes on her legs, bet she retreats from everybody.

I think she’s mad too, cause she snapped at me. “Grup ut toighterrr.” I say, scrunching the words up so she knows I’m making fun of her. “Yew shud nuuu butter.” I grumble. No. She’s the one that should know better. I do my best to fix my stance, and get the spear pointing at her again. “You’re the one that’s only pretending to be tough!” She’s the one that’s backing away from me like I’m gonna poke her full of holes. Maybe I am. Wouldn’t that be something? But no, no. I don’t want to be weak and be in the bottom two.

“You can’t even fight me the right way,” I say sticking out my tongue. We’re circling each other now and I’m trying to find an opening. I guess her foot hurts cause I don’t think she’s trying to let me get that close again. Oh boy oh boy, I hope Victor sees this cause then this dummy is gonna get in trouble. “Boo-hoo Meredith. Gonna cry? Crying doesn’t help.”

Crying is for the weak and the adults tell me that crying is bad. Ok. If crying is weak then I’m never gonna cry again. I already cried for Annabelle and I cried and cried for a whole two days and I cried until I didn’t think I had any more tears in my whole body.

I’m not gonna cry anymore because I’m gonna be the toughest and then I’m gonna get reaped and then I’m gonna win and nobody will mess with me and the adults won’t be able to tell me what to do cause I’ll already have done it so there. I yell again and charge Meredith, this time I’m aiming for her ankles cause the spears dip low anyway cause they’re heavy so I might as well aim low instead of her stupid face.

[cass]

m e r e d i t h

All the hurt, all the lies
All the tears that they cried
When the moment is just right
You'll see fire in their eyes

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a fraction of a section, letting the anger that boiled in her stomach settle. Her hand tightened around the handle of her spear, fingernails digging into the flesh of her palm. Isabelle was a child, a dumb one maybe, but she was still young, she hadn’t yet learned how to be empathetic, how to understand when someone was trying to be kind. Maybe… maybe she just didn’t want to be kind, and instead she had found a person to direct all her anger at. Meredith could be that person, but she didn’t want to, she wanted to be the one that held her when she cried, the one that was there, someone for her to rely on.

Isabelle swung her spear again, fingers fumbling as she moved to smack or stab - Meredith couldn’t quite tell, at the ankles. Moving quickly, Meredith blocked the swinging spear with her own, before raising her foot and bringing it down, trapping Isabelle’s spear in place, the tip digging into the dirt floor.

“Enough, Isabelle,” she snapped, she threw her spear onto the ground, resisting the urge to flinch at the repercussions that were surely coming her way. If he was watching any of this happen he’d have yelled at her by now, called her a fool for not taking his sessions seriously. He must be focused on someone else. Bending down, she picked up the other end of the spear that Isabelle was holding. “I know it hurts, I’m hurting as well," the words were stuck in her throat as she thought about Anabelle, her laugh, the way she seemed to make the world a brighter place. She missed her best friend.

Before she could stop herself, the next words came tumbling from her lips, "would it make it better if you killed me, Isabelle?” she asked.

She hurt every damn day, the bruises on her fists were a testament to the pain that she felt, wounds of her heart, displayed across her skin.

Her hand shook as she moved the tip of the spear to her chest, placing it over the space where her heart was. There were a hundred different ways to make that pain go away, a thousand things she could do, but right here, right now, this was all she could think of. She rested the metal against her shirt, wincing as she felt it press into her skin. Her knuckles were white as she gripped onto the spear and she looked at Isabelle, meeting her eyes with a steely gaze. “Could you do it? Kill me?”

[charade]

i s a b e l l e .

Come away little lamb
Come away to the water
Give yourself so we might live a new
Come away little lamb
Come away to the slaughter

Oh-oh, I think I made her mad. She’s fighting back now. Maybe she realized she doesn’t want to get in trouble. She’s stepping on my spear and I don’t think I can shake her off but she also threw her spear away?

“I know it hurts, I’m hurting as well.”

Oh no, I don’t want to think about that. Annabelle was my sister and nobody helped her they just let Finn put a hole in her chest. And, and Meredith wants me to put a hole in her chest too? Would it be better if I killed her? Yeah cause then I don't have to see her dumb face anymore and be reminded that she was all weepy when Annabelle died.  Could I do it?  Yeah.No no no. She doesn’t get to hurt because I’m hurting and that’s not fair

and and and I didn’t help her either cause I wasn’t supposed to and and and
                        she didn’t even try to fight back
why didn’t she
                        i don’t care about finn but i cared about anna
she left me alone and i hate her so much but I love her and I miss her and

And I’m confused and my heart feels like someone’s using as a pincushion and

                    it hurts

Oh-oh my eyes are watering. Can’t let Mr.Strauss see. He’d want me to stab her. He'd say she insulted my honor and my toughness and she's weak for dropping her weapon. 

I should stab her.

And I scowl and lean forward until it pricks her skin and then there’s red creeping down  her chest and her face scares me and I think of Annabelle

And then I let go and the spear falls to the ground.

I’m not gonna kill her, cause I’m never gonna be in the bottom two cause I’m gonna be the toughest and never cry and be cool like Elizabeth and then no one can make my chest hurt and everyone will have to be my friend because I’ll make them and they won’t leave me like Annabelle did because they won’t be weak and they won’t upset the adults and I won’t have to cry in my bed without Annabelle there to make me laugh and and and

“I want my sister back,” I say in a voice that’s even smaller than me. “So I'm gonna be the toughest and win the games and then I’ll make the gamemakers bring her back to life like they did all the tributes for Annie Morrison.”

I don’t like the way Meredith is looking at me and I don’t want to spar anymore and I just want to go to sleep.

[cass]

m e r e d i t h

All the hurt, all the lies
All the tears that they cried
When the moment is just right
You'll see fire in their eyes

She’s not sure she made the right choice when Isabelle pushes the spear into her chest. It pierces her skin, and she flinches, hand tightened around the shaft, trying to stop it from being driven in any further. She can feel the warm trickle of blood creep its way down her chest, feel it soak into the material of her light grey t-shirt. Her gaze shifted downwards, blue eyes taking in the sight before her. Her heart beats against her ribs, and it feels like there is no distance between the tip of the spear and the thing that is keeping her alive. We are all so fragile.

Suddenly she’s back at that ring, peering into the circle, mouth open, a pleading scream tearing from her lips, drowned by the cheers around her as that blade is shoved into Anabelle’s heart. There had been a split second of pain, as Anabelle had scrunched up her face, button nose wrinkling with a spike of agony. Then Finn had released, pulling it from her flesh and she had fallen, face slack and her eyes staring into nothingness as her body collided with dirt.

It wouldn’t be so bad, she decided, if Isabelle ran her through with the spear. There had been something comforting, almost welcoming about the way it had all just ended for Anabelle. Sometimes Meredith thought that maybe it would be better, not to live with this pain.

The spear fell, clattering into the ground and Meredith’s gaze snapped back up. Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to tumble down her rosy cheeks, but she fought with everything she had to not let them be free. Meredith’s gaze softened, and she stumbled a step forward, ignoring the way the shirt stuck to her bloodied skin. She knelt down in front of Isabelle, a hand reaching for the younger girls, finding Isabelle’s surprisingly warm compared to her cold ones. Just like Anabelle’s, always warm, always a welcoming embrace against her frosty body.

“I want my sister back,” her voice was small, a whisper that made Meredith’s heart hurt. “So I'm gonna be the toughest and win the games and then I’ll make the gamemakers bring her back to life like they did all the tributes for Annie Morrison.”

Oh.

Meredith swallowed, her throat aching, the words were stuck. “Iz,” she started, her eyes prickled and she hurriedly wiped at them. “She’s not coming back, it’s not the same thing,” each word felt like a death sentence, words that Meredith could never take back. Each one another shove, another blow that would make sure Isabelle would never want to talk to her again. It hurt, it hurt so much. The final blow was there, caught in her heart, falling from her eyes as she was no longer able to stop herself from crying.

“Anabelle’s gone, and she’s never coming back.”

[charade]

i s a b e l l e .

Come away little lamb
Come away to the water
Give yourself so we might live a new
Come away little lamb
Come away to the slaughter

Her hands are cold and I pull my hand away. I don’t want to shake her hand.

UGH. Don’t call me Iz, You don’t GET TO CAUSE I’M MAD AT YOU.

“She’s not coming back, it’s not the same thing.”

No no no! I thought about that and yeah they didn’t bring back any of the tributes for Nico and Kassandra and Ridley and Bail but but but I could make them. Just one, I don’t want them to bring back a whole twenty-three. “Don’t say that,” I whimper and I clench my fists because she’s making me mad.

“Annabelle’s gone, and she’s never coming back.”

It feels like my chest is going to explode, but I didn’t drink any coffee. Why is she crying? Why is she being so mean? I know she’s gone, she’s in the forest in the ground and she doesn’t even get a tombstone with her name of it like in the fancy graveyards. Never coming back? But what about my plan? UGH, Meredith is the worst! A minute ago I thought I was gonna start crying and get in trouble but now I’m MAD.

So I do like Victor says and try to feel my anger. It’s like a ball in my chest and I’m not gonna let it bounce around anymore. I have to control my emotions so I take all those bad feelings and I hold them in my chest because I don’t want my face to get hot, I’m supposed to feel it cold in my chest until its hard and then I’m gonna hit her with it. Stupid Meredith. I hate her. She’s not cool and she’s not my friend and she wasn’t Annabelle’s friend either.

And then I do the first thing I can think of and since she's kneeling in front of me I grab her hair and headbutt her in the face. Ow. Ow ow ow. Her stupid face is hard. I fall backwards onto my butt and hold my head in my hands. There's something wet on my face and I think it's blood. Oh-oh, yeah Meredith's nose is bleeding and I don't care.

“I hate you,” I whisper and I think my teeth are too close together cause the words can barely get out. Also my forehead hurts now, but I don’t care, I’m mad. “I wish Finn had killed you instead.” I say through my teeth. “I hope Declan or Elizabeth or Ruth cuts your head off and then I can kick it away like a ball so I never have to see your stupid face again.”

But I’m not picky. We just had to watch the 84th again and I wouldn’t care if Declan stabbed her in the eye cause she’s dumb like that career from four or or or maybe ruth could shoot her in the neck and then she’ll be crying and won’t be able to breathe like the yokel from eleven that died to the pretty career from one. Or maybe Finn should just stab her in the heart too and then she can be just like Annabelle because she likes her so much.

“I HATE YOU!” I screech.

And then I get up and wipe the dust off my hands and kick her in the shin again before running away to the bathroom. I hate her and I never want to see her again and I’m mad but I think I know what Victor means now and I’m just gonna hold it tight until I’m the one making people mad instead and then no one will mess with me.

Dumb Meredith. I should poke her again next time we spar.

Yeah.

But I’ll make sure it hurts next time.

Yeah.

And I’ll be the toughest and then Victor will be proud of me.

[cass]

m e r e d i t h

All the hurt, all the lies
All the tears that they cried
When the moment is just right
You'll see fire in their eyes

She was trying so hard, and she was failing. Meredith had been too slow, too wrapped up in her own suffering after Anabelle had died. There had been days when she had waited by Isabelle’s bedroom, trying to gather her own courage, or resolve to go and knock on her door. Victor was right, she was weak, she was too weak for this family and she would continue to let herself fall in love and care. Isabelle was the next one, and Meredith could feel it within her, this ache in her heart that told her that she would let herself suffer or die to try and fix every wrong she had made. She couldn’t let Isabelle become a monster, she couldn’t let Victor destroy her, not when

Anabelle would have done anything to make sure Isabelle would leave this house with her soul. She was dancing with the devil now, and Meredith was clawing her way into hell, she would drag her body through the flames to try and protect her. Anabelle would be disappointed in her, she’d have given her a look that would have made Meredith hang her head in shame. She didn’t believe there was enough time left in the world for her to make it right. As she looked at Isabelle’s face she felt her arms go weak, hand falling limply at her side.

Her little fingers entwine themselves into her hair and Isabelle goes from tears in her eyes to anger. It’s terrifying, and Meredith can feel her stomach tighten and she feels sick, she wants to throw up. The girl before her wasn’t sweet, little Isabelle, there was no sign of the girl that had clung onto Anabelle’s hand, or the one that had sat on Meredith’s lap and listened as she had read Isabelle her favourite story. Anabelle wasn’t the only one who had died that day.

Meredith doesn’t even fight back when Isabelle slams her forehead against hers. Pain bursts across her nose, there’s a wet crunch and Meredith cries out, a hand instantly going up to cradle the broken flesh and cartilage. Blood streams down, and tears have sprung to her eyes as she scoots backwards, a ragged sob tearing from her lips.

No, no, no, no.

She couldn’t do this, it hurt, it hurt so much.

I wish he had killed me, I wish I had been brave enough to volunteer to fight. I wish I had died.

“You think that’s new to me?” she said, looking at Isabelle through teary eyes. “You think I haven’t wished Finn had put that blade in my heart instead?” The words she hissed were all things Meredith had screamed at herself every night since Anabelle had died. They were nothing new.

I hate me too.

There’s nothing left of her as she watches Isabelle turn, leaving Meredith broken and bleeding in the dirt. Blood dripped down her face, spilling onto her shirt. A sob tore its way into the air, making the pain in her face explode, her nose hurt, her chest ached. There weren't enough flesh wounds to match the ones you couldn’t see, but this was a good start. This would be her punishment. The wound on her chest burned all the way to her heart.

[ end of thread ]