When Luck Runs Out

Death Follows Us Around

It only focused on the final battle and it showed Greg, who was definitely not smiling, trudging through what looked like a swamp. There were lily pads, mud, and dark water up to his waist, and he looked miserable. He had a sword in his hand, but that looked to be about all he had, but he didn't look like he was dying of starvation though, so obviously he had some supplies. Then, suddenly, a girl popped out of the water, covered in mud as a sort of camouflage, and jumped at him with a knife in her hand. But, unfortunately for the mud girl, Greg's reaction time was superb, and he skewered her on the end of his sword before she could even get close. That was the end of the clip, and we watched a couple more. Sebastian, Jim's friend, had hacked apart people with a curved cavalry sword, and was running around bare chested with their blood caking onto his skin.
"Is there something they put in the water in District Three that makes them all insane?" I asked as Moran struck down another helpless girl.
"I think Jim's just a bad influence." Mrs. Hudson guessed. Jeanette's was particularly interesting; once again we didn't give her enough credit. She was actually quite smart, and had constructed a wooden trap, where she trapped three careers and set fire to them, inside the cage, therefore winning her games.
"Even the most innocent of them obviously have a dark side." Molly guessed as we listening to the screams of the careers, cooking on extra crispy. All of the others were just as morbid and just as surprising. The smallest, most innocent of girls let loose their inner homicidal maniac (although one girl from eight won from accidentally creating a landslide), and the most muscular of men were struck down by stupid, blundering mistakes. The games could go anyway, and there was no stopping the bloodshed. On that happy note we split up to go to bed, but my brain was still tingling with horror. I wouldn't stand a chance, not against these people, these beasts, they were unstoppable, they were homicidal, they were terrifying. I had just barely won, it was an accident almost, reflexes that I just couldn't help using. And Jim, he was going to mimic his old habits undoubtedly, kill for fun, slaughter us like cattle. What if he got John? What if he carved up John like he did the rest, hang him from his limbs and carved out his organs as he withered and screamed...? I locked the door and collapsed on the bathroom floor, holding a cigarette to my trembling lips. I was just about to light it when there was a knock on the door, making me curse and stuff the cigarette and lighter away, behind the shower curtain, where he couldn't see.
"Sherlock, it's me!" he called, knocking louder. I went over to the door, trying desperately to look like I wasn't having a sort of mental breakdown, and opened the door. John looked terrible, his face white and his hands shaking, he looked like he needed the cigarette more than I did.
"Oh god, are you okay?" I asked with worry, holding the door open farther so that he could come in.
"How could I be, I just saw... well I saw what might happen to us." He muttered.
"You won't die John, I won't let you die." I insisted, shutting the door rather aggressively.
"I know you won't let me, I know you don't want to let me, but you're not God Sherlock, you can't control what happens. If I get hit in the back of the head with an arrow, there's no bringing me back, and if you get caught by Jim there is no length in which I wouldn't go to free you, even if it means taking your place. I would get tortured and killed a hundred times before I let him touch one of the hairs on your head." John insisted.
"I can't let you die, I promised you, I promised myself..." I started.
"I promised myself as well. You need to win Sherlock; you're so much more worthy." John insisted.
"I promised your mother." I pointed out. John's little fury turned to confusion, if only for a moment.
"What?" he snapped.
"She came to see me when in the visiting rooms; she made me swear to protect you with all I have." I pointed out.
"Does she not care what I think?" John asked.
"No, and she shouldn't. You have family John, you have a family that has already lost one daughter, don't make them lose a son!" I insisted.
"What did she say?" John asked.
"I already told you." I pointed out.
"No, her exact words." John insisted.
"She made me swear, and she said 'if all goes well, I won't see you again.'" I muttered. John's anger seemed to disappear, and he threw his arms around me, standing on his tiptoes to complete such a feat.
"If she cares so little for you then maybe she deserves to lose me." he insisted.
"She's your mother John; she's only worried for your wellbeing." I pointed out.
"Sherlock, she's my mother, but that doesn't mean she can pick if I live or die. I love you, and that's all that matters to me. If I die then that means you live, if you die that means you died happy, and if we both die then bless us because we'll be in heaven together." John decided. I smiled, feeling like there was nothing better he could've said. I couldn't pretend like John's mother's words didn't affect me. I only wanted to make a good impression, I wanted them to accept me even though I wasn't exactly the daughter in law they so hoped they would get. Now there was nothing I could do, but I could protect John, I could do what I set out to do, I what I promised I would do, and there was no stopping me now. Not even if you were a homicidal maniac.