Kamalyn
I'm sitting in bed with a tray on my lap, eating my breakfast. Iris has been telling me about the talking I was doing in my sleep, and I remember everything she's describing. Especially Benedict dying. That happens every night, and it hurts every time. In fact, every time I fall asleep or zone out I watch myself die, and I watch Benedict die, I watch it all happen again and again
"So last night, when you were asleep, you were talking to me and we had an entire conversation," Iris says from the other side of the room.
"What? How?"
"You were talking in your sleep, just memories from the arena. I do the same, except I'm no talker. You were crying a lot too. And screaming. But the time in training when you were bullying my brother, we had the entire conversation all over again."
"Which time in training?" I ask, "The bullying your brother part doesn't narrow it down much."
"The first time?"
"Oh, when you threw knives? Yeah, I remember that. I dreamed about it last night."
"Makes sense." she says.
I take another bite of my toast, trying to ignore the slightly burnt corner. Personally, toast isn't my favourite, but Iris chose what we ate today, and she likes toast. I don't know why.
"How many times did you bully me or my brother in training?" Iris asks casually.
"Robin on day one once and twice on day three, so that's three times on him and you..." I honestly can't remember. I think it was every day? "Day one, I guess, day two as well, day three and the morning of day four. I did well on that."
She rolls her eyes. "Yeah. I wouldn't call it doing well, but if that's what they teach you in career school, then you did well on that."
I roll my eyes this time and slide my plate onto the table next to my bed. I'm not hungry any more. I'm in the mood for arguing. "Actually, in career school, they taught me how to kill, how to tie knots, how to climb, throw knives and survive. What did you do with your little friend?"
"Oh, we just did what we could. Much of the same things, actually."
I nod a little, trying not to be fascinated. "It's just a shame that you had to fit it around work."
"Why? Didn't you?"
"No, work was fit around training. That's the benefit of going to 'career school', instead of messing around in your friend's garden."
"Messing around?" Iris is clearly irritated.
"If that's what you call it?"
"No, I would call it useful. It means I can do this."
She steps out of bed very purposefully, picks up her plate, and throws it. At my head.
The plate smashes on contact, shattering and spreading shards of ceramic everywhere. My face is covered in tiny cuts, and blood is trickling down my cheeks. I can't see anything, it's just a blur of red and moving objects. Is this how Iris felt before she died?
Something else smashes into my head at high speed, probably the other plate, and then everything goes black.
Not a very long chapter, because I just wanted to upload because I'm demotivated. And also I had a very murderous dream that I wanted to write down before I forgot it.
-Katherine
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Grain & Blood | A Hunger Games collection
FanficDISCLAIMER!! THE HUNGER GAMES IS NOT MY IDEA!! CREDIT TO SUZANNE COLLINS!! (Mild Language) Iris Sheaf from District 9 is 14 years old. She hopes for another uneventful reaping day, but luck isn't on her side. When the name of someone close to her ge...