ACT II, CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO ❛ all your love has rotted ❜ content: drug withdrawal, heavy angst, vomiting/emetophobia, violence, blood/gore, alcohol abuse, smoking.
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a/n . . . this is the edited chapter 22 which depicts heavy drug withdrawal and a lot of madaket's darkest thoughts about herself. A.K.A. this is very heavy. if you are sensitive to descriptions of drug withdrawal/addiction, i recommend skipping this one.
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The sun is blinding and her grip on Azula's knife is bloody. Madaket hears the wind picking up sand, feels the sharp granules biting into her face. When her eyes finally adjust, she's standing atop a dune, facing Kaimana. Madaket's heart skips a beat. Black smoke rises from the desert beside them. Blood covers Kaimana's tattered shirt, runs down her chin when she opens her mouth to speak. "Kill her!"
Someone shoves Madaket off her feet, and she tumbles down the side of the dune, hands scrabbling for something to hold onto. She stabs Azula's knife into the sand to slow her downward momentum. As she comes to a stop midway down, Marie's shadow blots out the sun above. The girl from District 10 hops over the crest of the dune, and walks casually toward where Madaket lay, sword in hand.
"Stop." Madaket's voice is hoarse. She isn't here in the arena. She can't be. Can she? "I already killed you."
"Yes," Marie says. "And you'll kill me again. And again and again. Forever."
"It's the prize you fought to win," came Kaimana's voice. Kaimana's shadow falls over Madaket now, watching from atop the dune. Before Madaket can protest, Marie is upon her, wrestling her to the ground.
"Stop!" Madaket screams. "I never wanted— I never chose—"
"But you did." Kaimana stood behind Marie, leering at Madaket with hatred burning in her eyes. "You chose to kill us. And now we get to kill you."
More people materialized around her. The boy from District 9, Azula, Copper. Even Wylan, the bloody gash in his throat weeping down his neck. Each of them holding a dagger. Marie presses her fist into Madaket's throat, choking her. Madaket cannot fight them off as they swarm her, daggers raised, steel glinting in the sunlight. She can only scream as the blades sink into her chest and linger there . . . Forever.
Madaket wakes so violently she falls off the bed, sheets stuck to her legs with cold sweat. A knife is already in her hand. She holds it out into the gloom of the dark bedroom and frantically crawls into the nearest corner, back pressed between two walls. Her eyes are wide as she tries to catch her breath, searches for ghosts with daggers and familiar faces. But nobody is here except her. Rain-scented wind breezes through the curtains, sends a chill through her body. It was just a nightmare. Panting, she lowers the trembling knife.
