Call me blind, but I didn't see it comin'. Everyone was runnin' but I couldn't hear nothin; except gun blasts, it happened so fast, I didn't really know this kid though I sat by her in class.
Reggie couldn't feel anything. The swamp around him buzzed with wildlife, crocodile-snake mutts lurked deep underneath the murky, clouded waters, hissing almost silently, slithering along the bottom of the swamp, mud kicking up under the creature's belly, creating ripples and clouds in the water. Reggie didn't turn to meet the small waves in the water, he stood forward, feeling hollow and frightened. He was so frightened. He wanted to go home, he wanted to feel again, he wanted comfort. After witnessing Mercury's slaughter yesterday afternoon as the sky stained red with his blood, he felt sick, and he felt like crying forever. He'd never grown so close to a person that he wasn't related too, and Reggie was only now realizing how terrible it was to be in the Hunger Games. His optimism seemed completely drained at this point.
His new ally, the girl from twelve, wasn't near as friendly as Mercury was, and he knew he probably should talk to her, since they would possibly be together for the rest of their lives, but words couldn't form. His breath was still gone, being sucked from his lungs through a mask, and his lips were a solid stone, to talk would cause him to crumble, so he had to keep still and make no sudden movements unless she spoke up first.
Memories of Mercury continued to swirl in his mind, causing him to whimper every so often. This was just so unfair. He didn't want to be sitting here with Laurel on a log, he wanted to be frolicking in the meadow with Mercury. They could be singing louder than the cannons themselves, twirling and laughing while others sat, consumed with depression and sobbed. Mercury was gone though, he was dead, missing limbs and in a box off in District Six.
And because of this, Reggie wouldn't be frolicking any time soon.
He numbly felt his lip tremble, without real reason, and his eyes dried, not threatening to leak his sorrows any longer. He wasn't going to let this bother him? was he? Reggie was trying to hard, so so hard, to try to be optimistic, but coming face to face with death, holding Mercury's life in his hand like that...Then letting it slip past his fingers... There was no chance he could pull a smile. Mercury's death was his wrongdoing, and he was just going to have to accept that.
An hour or so drooped past, and Reggie felt like he was doing nothing except watching the grass grow. He'd still said no more than a few words to Laurel, but, she hadn't said anything either. The only excuse she had, was her terrible, festering wounds. She must have gotten hurt at some point, but by whom he wondered? He glanced at Laurel slightly, feeling his eyes flicker down to his feet again, then he muttered quietly, "So, How've the games been for you so far...?" Reggie almost recoiled from the sound of his voice. He didn't sound anything like himself anymore, and he felt like his tongue was speaking a foreign, ragged language. He wanted to wish the words away too, because obviously, in her state, Laurel hadn't had a very good Hunger Games, but they were alive. That was all that mattered.
Reggie looked back at her, eyes probably red and swollen from the tears shed over the past few hours, and he almost expected tears from her as well, considering her district partner had exited and not once returned. It looked as if the two had been in love, briefly touching lips before he departed into the reeds and daunting trees. Hopefully he hadn't died. Part of him wished he could die, so they could both share their feelings about their lost friends and lovers, but nobody knew what was to happen. All Reggie knew was that he needed encouragement. He needed to be lifted out of the hole he was digging, because pessimism was not something he was strictly fond of.
"If it makes you feel better...I haven't had a cake-walk either..." He murmured, his voice raspy and raw from his coughing fits he'd endured since day two. Reggie waited for the girl to speak up and talk to him too, pressing his lips together as the seconds passed like hours. His old self had to peak back again soon, there had to be a glimmer of his old self left...There just had to be.
Bright and early, for the daily races, goin' nowhere, goin' nowhere...
I find it hard to tell ya, I find it hard to take, people run in circles, it's a very verry...Mad world. Mad world.
Lyrics are copyright to P.O.D. From the song "the youth of the nation", and of course, "MAD WORLD".
also. FEELS. I CANNOT.
Laurel hadn't been able to make it far after breakfast that day. Her wounds, sustained in a battle against the career girl from two, a battle in which she'd almost lost her life, were grave. Without Hunter's help, Laurel was restricted to slouching on an old moldy log, slumped over in exhaustion. Her face was gaunt and pale, dark circles under her eyes and her hair hanging around her face in clumps, matted by blood. Occasionally she would cough, a few sprays of blood emerging on the back of her muddy wrist.
She had spared the scared miserable looking boy from five earlier in the day from Hunter's ruthless knife. In her heart, Laurel knew she wasn't long for this world and she wanted no more to see hurt and pain and killing. Despite her heroics, Laurel didn't really give Reggie, their newfound ally, a warm welcome. She didn't even ask for his name or introduce herself. She simply sat there sullenly, miserable and in pain. Even breathing was difficult and she hurt all over, deep into her very bones. The wound on her leg, where the cutlass she now gripped tightly in one hand had stabbed into her flesh, was swollen and through the tear in her pants the skin around it was dark and splotchy. Hunter was gone, Laurel was dying, District 12 was out of hope and somewhere far away Laurel imagined her sister watching her slip away.
Just then a voice brought her out of her dreary reverie. She glanced sideways at him, her lips pressing together as she raised an eyebrow. "Are you serious?" She said weakly, with a bit of a cough that stained her lips crimson with her own blood. She looked away, not really wanting to talk to this kid.
But he continued on, perhaps trying to remedy for his silly question by relating their situations. Laurel, in a sour mood, continued to stare at the swampy earth. "Is that why you've been crying pretty much all day?" She muttered bitterly.