dead on arrival /pollux

[gamemaker kelsier]

p o l l u x   f o s s e

At first, it isn't real.

I stand there, fingers wrapped around the strap of my overstuffed backpack hanging off my shoulder. The square is dead silent as everyone watches Castor fall. He's done that once or twice but somehow, he's always gotten back up, just when I think it's finally over, he does.

I think I yelled, Stay down! once. But I don't know if that was actually me or someone else.

Maybe a minute or so goes by after the canon fires off and the screen jumps to a recap of Castor's time in the arena. I turn my head, he's dead and I don't think that I can look at that anymore.

There's a bruise on my cheek and no one quite looks at me as they leave the square, probably off to the night shift at the factories. District Five stops for nothing, not even the death of our last bid in the games.

Someone pats my shoulder maybe but by the time I turn my head, they're gone again. My fingers are cold, I forgot to grab my gloves when I left home and it seems too far of a walk to go back.

And I always knew that Castor was going to die, one way or another. No matter how many treatments or however many surgeries they put him through, Castor was going to die. I guess I just thought we'd have a few more years, enough to get that bookstore going and our own roof over our heads. I had all these plans for us.

But I don't know if I was making them out of love or guilt.

And I can't help thinking that maybe he could of won if he wasn't blind.

My legs are stiff and my breath clouds in front of me as the sun starts to set so I sit down on the brickwork, watching as that girl from Eleven dies next. I've gotten so used to watching the anthem with Cas, eyes on the screen as I count the dead for him under my breath.

Twins are supposed to have telepathy or something right?

So how come I didn't know what he was gonna volunteer?

Mom still thinks it was me that raised Castor's hand, she swears it was my voice that she heard ringing out and I set Cas up. I guess to her it'd make sense, I've always been a monster. She's had it out for me since I ran from home. She never lets me forget that I'm the one who let Cas go blind.

And I never got to tell him sorry for that.

I didn't even tell him goodbye, just stood there and watched the train with him on it roll away a couple of weeks ago. No matter how fucking hard he's had it, Cas has always, always bounced back. Guess I just figured that he would this time too.

I pull my backpack around to sit in front of me and go digging. I only had time to grab a few things before I left home. Mom had finally gone out to get groceries and I broke the lock on Cas' bedroom door, sweaty fingers digging through his stuff until I found it, the old red radio he'd loved to cart around.

That and an old black hoodie of his I'd always thought was cool.

Then I left, heart racing as I slipped out the backdoor even as mom came home through the front. She hadn't said anything but the cold silence and the slap'd been enough. I've always kind of known where I'm not wanted and I'm pretty sure she just kept me around to be Castor's bloodbank anyway.

And I've got enough money saved for another night in Selma's bed and breakfast but then I have to start looking for more work.

And Cas is dead I guess, after all that effort to keep him alive, he's dead and I don't believe in anything but I still hope that he's somewhere waiting for me. I don't want to wrap my head around the fact that I'll never see him again, so I don't. I can pretend that half of me is still out there, just far away and then it doesn't feel like total agony.

The dials on the old piece of crap stick a little and I need to fiddle with them a lot before I get any music out of it. I've fallen on some instrumental channel and the square is empty now, the screens just showing the last two sleeping tributes.

But no one cares because they aren't from Five, we've already lost.

I pull the radio into my lap, cradling it in the same way that I used to cradle Castor's head when he was exhausted and in too much pain to sleep.

"What are you gonna be when you grow up?" he'd asked me once.

"Your brother," I'd said.

And that stupid song starts playing, that one Cas and Sin danced to a couple of nights ago, when Castor looked so happy I hardly recognized him.

I can't blame him for leaving, so I don't.

There's a pressure against my back, a soft hum of greeting when Wolfgang sits back to back with me in the dark. He doesn't say anything as he passes me one of those shitty menthols he likes to smoke and I take it, the heat barely warming my fingers up. Sutton's been dead for days but instead of breaking like I thought he was going to, he just went back to normal.

I say nothing when I pass the cigarette back.

He doesn't leave.

And the radio plays another song.