The Writers' Games: Disney Games

Round 4: Entries

Haven

 I feel as if I'm drowning. Choking and gasping and sputtering as my lungs struggle for every particle of oxygen that I manage to take in. Breathing shouldn't be this hard, breathing should be as easy as... well... breathing. It's something I've taken for granted since I was born but it's also something I shouldn't have to fight for. It's just air, it's just oxygen. There's no logic in this. No sense in drowning on dry land. 

Maybe it's the lack of oxygen to my brain or maybe it's Delilah's death or maybe it's my already-existing insanity, but everything is harder to grasp right now. I'm slower than usual, much slower. My thoughts haven't stopped cycling in hours. It never ends. Meadow to Ben to death the blood soaking the hem of my gown to Calla to crippling fear to needing to cry to Meadow again, it hasn't stopped. I don't know how to stop it or how to make it go away. How do you run away from your own shattered mind?

I feel lightheaded, an incredible feat considering the fact that I'm lying down. I've been lying here for hours, trying not to reach meltdown level in terms of my wild emotions. If Ben's mother was here, she would dismiss it as hormones and tell me to get up and at last try to act dignified. However she isn't and that's wrong anyways, I'm always like this. No, laying motionless on the floor of the rowboat would be fine if my brain was functioning and my lungs weren't burning like I'm breathing acid instead of air. Things would be wonderful then. But I'm fighting to the death, not having a tea party.

Life isn't always easy.

One of the presidents has started speaking. In my addled state, I don't notice until the voices and words running through my mind have grown quiet for just a moment before starting up again. I can't hear what she's saying, really. I'm too busy losing my mind and choking on dry air. Focus has never come naturally to me, just like calm and sanity never have and never will. Right now I could go for a little focus, anything to help me in the Games and keep me from hearing my own thoughts. Anything to help me stay alive. 

"...help you..."

"...a little ball..."

"...oxygen masks..."

"...Cornucopia..."

"...within the hour..."

"...you will die..." 

It sounds just like this, a mix of nonsense and seemingly-helpful words. The president speaking, I'm still not sure which one it is but it doesn't truly matter, has this gleeful tone of voice that makes me wonder if she's even crazier than I am. It's hard to trust somebody that sounds like they could be your cellmate in an insane asylum. However, I have no choice but to trust them. I'm trapped here, just a pawn to be played and forced into horrible situations. I have no power here. I have to obey. It's a funny thing, going from a future queen to a scared pregnant girl in a matter of a few days. Everything I've become has been stolen and now I'm just a toy to be broken. 

What I can make sense of seems to suggest that there's a chance that I won't die, but only if I venture to the Cornucopia along with everybody else that's still alive. That in itself is a potential death sentence in my current state but my other option is certain death, which would be okay with me if not for Calla. If I wasn't risking or saving another life with my every action, I would give in now to suffocation and accept the fact that I'm a monster for doing so. Meadow would forget me soon enough. My mother is dying anyways. The Queen wouldn't care, the King would mourn privately. Ben would understand and move on in the end. Only Calla truly holds me back from giving up. 

I attempt to sit but I'm quickly back on my back when my body lurches to the side and the world spins just a little bit. Five minutes of my precious time is wasted as I wait for the clouds in my brain to clear enough that I can sit up without fainting. I still cannot breathe but that matters less and less as I try to focus on the task of getting back to the Cornucopia. I still have the boat at my disposal, I'm still sitting in it, so getting there isn't the issue. Getting away will be the problem, but I worry less about that now.