EIGHT.

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ALL I WANT.
act one―nightmares & daydreams

    NIGHTMARES SWALLOWED HER WHOLE AS SHE TOSSED AND TURNED IN HER SLEEP— it was as if every horrifying memory imaginable had seeped its way into her mind as Ophelia placed her head on the pillow

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    NIGHTMARES SWALLOWED HER WHOLE AS SHE TOSSED AND TURNED IN HER SLEEP— it was as if every horrifying memory imaginable had seeped its way into her mind as Ophelia placed her head on the pillow. Oh, how she wished it could all end. As much as she wanted to scream, for her yells to echo in the room she could not bear to do so. Not while her cries would mean nothing. Time was ticking and soon she would find herself in the arena once more. All would be meaningless if she shed her tears in her chambers. For soon her blood would smear the ground. Ophelia would soon be no more.

    Perhaps that was why she could not bat an eye to take her down into slumber. Once the nightmares consumed her mind, she was awake in her silk bedsheets. Her forehead stained with sweat as she drew from her sleep with wide eyes and rushed gasps as Ophelia was rid free from all that was good in the world. Pushing back the loose strands of hair with a ragged breath, her eyes took to gaze at the shut curtains that echoed the trivial glow which was the Capitol. No ounce of energy could make her get up from her bed and shatter the window. Not even if they were to blame for her sudden death.

    It seemed like her first game all over again.

     The panic that swelled inside of her throat, the uneasy sensation to vomit in her stomach. How she wanted to grab something that could be the closest thing to a weapon and end her life right then and there. This time she was to enter the games with the title of Victor, no doubt there would be some sort of metal trinket that would mock her previous win. No Daeyrs. The shadow of his ghost would be the closest thing she would have to his face, to his smile to his lips. Fate had been so cruel to take him from her so soon —and at a place where bloodshed was the only option for survival.

Now she was to fight her battles alone, just as she did before. The chances of having any allies seemed slim to none. There would be no one that would take her under her wing this time. No one would show her the ropes. In other words, Daeyrs was a blessing. Brought out of life too soon for her to survive. Yet, here she was, back in the pits of hell. Having to fight for her life once more. This time no one else would die, only her.

Perhaps that was better. This time she wouldn't have to face the agony, those lonely nights battling nightmares and tears. Watching his death over and over again, the painful memory that would haunt her mind even as she found herself in the comforts of a lavish home. Ophelia had watched her only friend, her first love have the apex of his heart stabbed with an arrow. The life draining from his eyes as he handed her the weapon that had been his to hone since the beginning of the games.

    How was it that the world could be so vile and cruel? Vicious that it would dare to spit itself upon her with the blood of the only person who ever cared to love her? And there he lay, blood draining out as with his life until Daeyrs was nothing but a lifeless soul. A lifeless lover. And it was all her fault.

    She hitches her breath before allowing the tears to stream down her face. Ophelia glances at her reflection in the windows. Perhaps the Capitol may see her as this pretty face, yet they are wrong to brand her as such a thing. They dare not to look past the cracks of her soul, to even dare to catch a glimpse of the bandages, the glue that she tries to cement her broken pieces together —too bad that it's failing.

    Ophelia follows her feet where they wander. Of course, they had to lead her to the washroom. Instantly, she touches the gold-trimmed faucets, hearing the water stream down the sink as she gazes at her own tear-stained complexion. Quickly, her hands fly to the water, cupping the cold liquid in her hands as she douses her face in it until it slowly soothes the tension that floods her almost entirely.

    Gazing up at her reflection one last time, does she feel the tiny beads of water trickle down her eyelashes before pricking their way onto her skin. Her hands shake as she clings onto the sides of the sink as her eyes continue to bear into the glass in front of her.

    "You're going to die one day, Starkov. Might as well accept that now,"








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    THERE IS SOMETHING ABOUT THIS NIGHT THAT PREVENTS HIM FROM FALLING— asleep. Could it be that Katniss is entering the games again as a Victor in the Quarter Quell or something more? No, that doesn't seem to be the reason at all. Gale lets out a small sigh as he gazes up at the ceiling, almost unnerving as he was awake at such an unholy hour.

    Okay, maybe it wasn't an unholy hour —but it was too early for whatever shit had decided to wake Gale up. Today was the start of the Quarter Quell, surely it would be enough for him to start the mourning process. The nail-biting as he would watch as his friend entered the games once more.  It should have been that way, had it not been that his mind wandered elsewhere.

    What was going to happen to her? Ophelia. May he be damned for thinking about a complete stranger rather than his best friend but the concern lurched in his body at an alarming rate. And what for? He didn't even know her! So why should he even give a damn!

    Gale knew the answer to that fucking question, it wasn't exactly like it was the hardest thing for him to answer.

    Any guy could have stared at her and had who knows how many fantasies about Ophelia Starkov. He just so happened to didn't see her in that way. Whatever trauma Ophelia had faced may have been more than Katniss. After all, she was lucky to have survived the games with someone else in her district. And it wasn't like the woman from District Two felt like sharing much about the shit she faced in that hellhole of the games.

    But he wanted to know. Damn, all he would give in the world is to see a genuine smile on her face. The changes of that happening seemed slim to none. There was a 99.99% chance that Ophelia Starkov wouldn't come out of the games alive. It was the 0.01% chance that he was clinging on to. After all—

    —a guy can only dream.











ACT ONE:
━━━━━━
NIGHTMARES & DAYDREAMS







tryn' everyday when i hold my breath
spinnin' out in space pressing on my chest
i don't wanna lose control
━━zoe wees

ALL I WANT, gale hawthorneWhere stories live. Discover now