only a matter of time | prop & lock

[bailee]

lock o'malley.

They said keep your eyes open
And we'll teach you to dream while you are awake
Well, they haven't spoken
Since their branches were broken for the fire that they told me to

Three days had gone by, and there were still twenty-one other tributes in the arena. Twenty-one lives would have to be lost for me to see my little brother again. Twenty-one other tributes that each had their own families to return home to at the expense of Six's life. Death had never looked me in the eyes so closely before, yet all of my selfishness wanted it to continue glaring, seething into the eyes of all the other tributes until it finally captured him. Then Six would arrive home, smiling as he stepped off of the train and spotted us, his family.

I am the goofy sibling, the class clown, the one that everyone makes laugh in times of desperation. Yet even I couldn't crack a joke as I watched Estelle, Six's district partner, bleeding out after being viciously attacked by a Sheepish.

But as I always tell our little siblings, we are O'Malleys, and O'Malley's don't give up. Even as Six struggled to fight the muttation on Day Two, I turned to my siblings and told them Six was a fighter. And as each day went on, his fight would grow stronger and stronger, until the last tribute was gone and he was crowned the victor. And he would come back and we could all go for diner pancakes and live happily. And all we had to do was cheer from him on the sidelines, say a prayer for him each night before we go to bed, and get through the worst week of our year.

Though, I was exhausted. Feigning a smile during the most destitute of times took its toll on me, and all I had wanted to do was lay in bed and never wake up until Six was back home. But, I had to be strong, just like Six was being.

Yet I was a hypocrite. I had never shed so many more tears in my life.

"Prop, let's go for a walk," I walked into my older brother's room, cheeks puffy and red shedding light on my sorrows. The good thing about Prop was that I never needed to be his protector, his source of comedy when everything seems like a tragedy. He never expected me to be there for him like my younger siblings. He understood grief better than I did. Being with him was like a breath of fresh air after my lungs were drowning in my false optimism.

And as we stepped outside of the O'Malley farm, I had never felt more alive than I had since Six was reaped. The sun was shining, the breeze gently touched my skin keeping us cool. I wrapped my flannel around my waist as I looked beyond the farm, home. Filled with life and activity, yet without Six it felt terribly empty.

I turned to Prop. "I'm exhausted," I told him, hoping that he would understand.

[Deleted]

PROP O'MALLEY - 691 WORDS

L

 ock is only a year younger than me, but he feels a hell of a lot younger than that. He's smart, he's way fucking smarter than someone like me will ever be. But, he's naive and sheltered. All of my siblings - other than maybe Four - live sheltered. And Six being reaped was a hole in their shelter, exposing them to the elements for the first time. But, it was just a taste. It was a blizzard pouring through the ceiling, it may not seem like much to someone without any shelter but to them it was the beginning of the end.

And when Lock came to me and asked to go for a walk, I got up without hesitation and started walking with him. It was hot out and summer was truly in full swing. My flannel was unbuttoned, revealing my black tank top underneath, but I didn't take it off like he did. Some of my siblings tanned, but I definitely sunburned so the flannel stayed on year round. As we walked, I didn't speak. There was a reason Lock suddenly wanted to go for a walk and I knew if I stayed quiet long enough, that reason would reveal itself.

And sure enough, I was right. I was definitely effected by Six being reaped. The day of the Bloodbath I ended up breaking down and screaming at Vasco Izar. But, I was out of the shelter for longer than Lock. I had been exposed to the elements in the past. I had an idea of how this might feel. My toe had been dipped into the pool of grief while Lock had never even seen the pool before. We may have both been thrown in head first, but I knew how to swim. We were in the same Hell, but dealing with different devils.

When he said he was exhausted I knew what he meant. He made people happy. That was his role in the family. My role was to be the one who acted out, facing punishment to help my family. His role was to be the one who lifted the spirits of all of us. But right now, he was drowning. And the more he tried to save everyone else from drowning the further he sank to the bottom. He was so focused on saving everyone else that he didn't realise it was too late to save himself. I know what that felt like.

I ruffled Lock's hair slightly, trying to calm him down as we walked. Then I remembered what I had in my pocket. A few cigarettes and a flask. I wasn't going to give Lock a cigarette. I refused to fuck up my little brothers lungs or get him started on an addiction like that. But one drink of alcohol? It wouldn't kill him. It might make him feel even the smallest bit better, it might be enough to keep him afloat.

"I know you are, kiddo. I wish I could tell you it would just get better magically one day. But it probably won't. It'll either get a whole lot better or it'll suddenly become infinitely worse. It's only a matter of time and we won't know which one until it happens. It's hard to get through this shit. That's why we have to stick together. I do have something that might make you feel a little better, you just can't tell anyone I gave you it and we shouldn't go home for a little while after."

I pulled out the flask from my back pocket and opened it up, taking a small drink. Normally I'd take a much bigger one but I didn't want Lock to get the wrong idea. If I got Lock drunk, I could only imagine what our parents would do. Fuck, Four would probably come back to the family just to kick my ass if she knew I got him drunk. Plus, I'm not cleaning up any vomit unless I absolutely have to. I handed the flask over to Lock as I explained.

"It's whiskey, kiddo. Just take a little drink, and know it'll taste really bad considering you aren't used to alcohol."

MADE BY KAGNEY

[bailee]

lock o'malley.

They said keep your eyes open
And we'll teach you to dream while you are awake
Well, they haven't spoken
Since their branches were broken for the fire that they told me to burn

Alcohol was not something that had graced my lips in my sixteen years of living. Even at communion, when the altar boys would bring around the communion wafers and wine my parents forbade any of the children from taking a sip. I remembered when One became of age took a sip for the first time, cringing at the bitterness of their drink.

"Prop, where did you get the alcohol?" I asked him, "you know we're not supposed to have that..." my eyes lingered around the flask, as Prop took a gentle sip. He lacked the reaction that One had to her first sip of alcohol. I knew this wasn't the first time he had pressed a flask to his lips and indulged in the tastes of whiskey, whatever that was.

I took the flask from his hands anyway, sniffing it out of curiosity. The unsultry tastes of grain and liquor entered my senses, causing me to pull the flask away from my nose instinctively and cringe. How could Prop enjoy this?

But Prop had been dealing with this better than anyone else in the family, his cheeks as dry as bones as he consoled the younger kids in his arms. I was the goofy one, I was the one who made everyone laugh in time of need, yet Prop never received near as much credit for keeping the house as calm as possible in our grief. He was the true patriarch, the one who kept us all safe, the one who fought our sadness head first while Six was fighting for his life in the Capitol.

Prop had revealed his secret to me, and in my desperation, I was willing to try anything. I pressed the flask to my lips and chugged, unaware of the strongness of the liquid that would now be traveling down my throat. After gulping a few times, the liquor began to stain my tastebuds, burning my throat and making my lungs beg for air. I coughed desperately, almost dropping the full flask of whiskey in my hand as I gathered my breath.

But when the strength of the liquor finally disappeared, I understood what Prop meant. I felt relaxed, the world around me seemed just that much better. With a laugh, I handed the flask back to Prop. "That was nasty, Prop," I giggled and took a seat on a nearby rock. That was the first time someone had genuinely made me laugh since Six was reaped.