Author Games: Dacnomania Nexus Accourt

Final - The Final Twist - Laurent Bloom

District One - Laurent Bloom

There was a finger growing from his eye.

They were long, tan things that ripped right through the cornea. The ends were blunt; no nail or curled point. Just a stump that blinded him.

He let out a blood curling scream, holding his stomach in pain. He mumbled something, but the words got caught and he vomited a pool of black liquid. Thin, odorless liquid. "Shh." I soothed, rubbing his back, trying to avoid the massive blisters that had spread there. They poked out from under his suit, growing to a size that nearly burst the seams.

He faced me, or tried to. Though he never vocalized it, I was sure the right eye was just as useless as the other. "Laurent, I can't do this." He moaned, his entire body shaking, "I can't, I can't." He exploded into a chant of negative thoughts.  "Laurent, can you-" He closed his good eye, the other unable to fit around the stump. "Can you kill me?"

The breath was knocked out of my throat. At the moment, I had nothing wrong with my physically, just a hard time breathing. No blisters or warts or stumps. I shook my head, even though he couldn't see me. "Please, I am dying. They can't kill me. You have to."

I tried to wipe away my tear, but the mask prevented it. "Oh, philosophical." My laugh was shrill and short; entirely forced. "Are you sure?" He nodded, his lips pressed into a determined line.

Pulling the mask away from his face, he took a deep breath of air; the polluted garbage the called air. He was silent for a moment, before his frown turned to a smile. "Thanks, buddy." My face itched as a tear rolled down, but I couldn't wipe it away. I couldn't die too.

"Before you do it, I have one request." He slurred the word request, and I clutched the dagger to my hand. I was loosing him. I nodded, swallowing back tears. "For once, you give that asshole father of yours a punch."

I nodded, holding the knife to his throat. He felt it, but didn't show any fear on his face. "Bye, Laurie." He said, as the blood spilled from his neck to the sandy ground. Don't let death bother you, my father always said."

His cannon drowned out my reply of, "Bye, Thorny."

That had been a month and a half ago. I had murdered the only thing I could call a friend a month  and two weeks ago. Sure, Lynx had been a friend, but he had gone too early. Too early to be a friend like Strider. 

By now, Striders symptoms had transferred to me. Thankfully, nothing had bothered my eyes; though my night-vision had be entirely useless, it kept my eyes functioning. Still, I was sure a sixth toe was growing beneath my boot and there was a nasty rash like thing on my stomach. Not to mention my frequent bouts of black vomit and the inconsistent heart rate. 

Since that stump first pierced Strider's eye, there had been one question on my mind. Not even a question, just a single word ending with a question mark. Why? Why were we growing extra limbs? Why was this happening to the last bunch of us? 

My guess was on the food. All Tributes had eaten the small, tiny portion of food that was supposedly safe at the Feast; Strider, Rhea, Tommy and I. I had yet to find the others, but I was sure it had something to do with the Capitol. According to their standards, radioactive air and lack of food wasn't dramatic enough. They needed to add extra arms for their pleasure. 

Still, that was a long shot. Father always said, don't make unsupportable claims. Facts, and facts only. But still, maybe something had happened when our new features were injected into us. Maybe our super speed and night-vision had been the cause. It was laughable, really. What we thought was so advanced and unheard of had been what would kill us.

It was night when I finally stumbled across Rhea. Her tiny body was racked with uncontrollable, violent tremors. Her suit was ripped open in the back; a small hand, small enough to be from a newborn child, wiggled its way out. There were multiple pools of black vomit, some even sprayed on the inside of her mask.

"Rhea?" There was a flash of fear in her her eyes, but it disappeared just as quickly as it appeared. The fingers of the baby hand in her back wouldn't stop twitching. I looked away.

"Matthew?" She whispered, crawling towards me. "Oh, I thought they killed you. I thought the killed you." 

The hand froze. "Rhea, this is Laurent. Matthew is dead." Her eyes crinkled into something unreadable. Then she laughed.

"Laurent? The pathetic Career from One? You killed him, Matty." She laughed again, placing a hand on my leg. "You killed him." She began to giggle, unable to stop. With a flash of anger, I flung the spear into her chest, baring my teeth as the cannon rung.

No one was going to kill me, especially not some boy from Five. 

Days passed, and I lost count of how many of us were left. Two? Five? My mind was cloudy, and only pieces of memories remained. I could remember the names of my allies, but not what they looked like. I could remember the color of my bedroom walls, but not where my bed was placed.

My heart had been on a downward spiral. At times, it would beat so fast I thought it was sure to burst from my chest. Other days, it was so slow, I thought it had stopped. These mutations had to be internal as well. 

I had been laying on my back when I had seen him. At home, I always preferred sleeping on my stomach, but my rash had turned to violent blisters, and any pressure would pop them. "Laurent." The voice commanded. "Get up." 

My eyes opened slightly at the voice, my head unable to find a connection. It was familiar, but who did it belong to? At first sight of his face, all of my memories came back to me at once. My head snapped from cloudy to perfect clarity. I mouth went dry as I stuttered. "Dad, what are you doing here?"

"Stop stuttering." He snapped, and my mouth clamped shut. His blonde hair was slicked back perfectly, not a wrinkle on his business suit. "What do you think you are doing?" 

"Winning. I am going to win. For you-" He cut me off with a wave of his hand. He rolled his eyes, as he glanced down at where I had been sleeping. 

"Looks like you were sleeping. What have I told you? No sleeping with enemies around." He pushed a hand through his hair. "For the sake of Warwell, you are stupid."

I nodded violently, agreeing. "I know, I am sorry. I will-" Something hard slammed into my stomach. His fist. I moaned as the pus from a popped blister stainined the front of my suit. 

"Don't say sorry, fix it." He snapped, holding his hand on the air warningly at me. "Kill Tommy and be the Victor. Stop being such a fucking disgrace." 

I nodded, but my stomach still ached. Yet another bruise. The Arena, the only place I could get away from my father and here he was, critiquing my every move. "Why are you here? I don't need you." I spat, my hands shaking. My heart was beating out of control, but I couldn't steady my breathing. 

He leaned in closer to me, breathing his liquor stained breath onto my face. I could smell it through the suit. "What did you say?"

"I don't need you!" Another punch. This one barely skimmed my ribs as I jumped away. 

"You will never win! You wouldn't be good at anything if it wasn't for me teaching you! I am your success, not you!" His words dug deep into my chest, but I ignored it. I had to win this time. Years of him saying this, years of me agreeing with him. He wasn't in the Arena for the last two months. He didn't kill his friends. He didn't understand what was happening to me.

I shook my head. His hands shoved me backwards, but I caught myself. "Don't touch me!" I screamed, my fist colliding with his face. The tip of my spear pierced his heart before he could respond. 

I closed my eyes, my entire body shaking. When I could finally bear to look at what I had done, I gasped. My father wasn't laying on the ground with a spear in his heart. He wasn't in the Arena, which would explain the lack of a suit and mask. It was Tommy.

What was it that my father always used to say? Never trust the Mutts. Wonder what he would say if he could see me now. I wonder if I would listen.